---

The next morning came too quickly.

I hadn’t slept. My eyes ached, my head throbbed, but I still forced myself up.

The air in the room was cold, heavy with silence. Elijah’s side of the bed was untouched.

He hadn’t come home.

I took a long shower, trying to wash away the ache in my chest. By the time I stepped into my office clothes — a soft beige blouse tucked into a dark pencil skirt my reflection already looked tired. Pale. Fragile.

But I had to go.

I couldn’t give Gwen the satisfaction of knowing I’d broken down.

When I arrived at Skydom Company.The reception area was busier than usual. Staff hurried about with anxious faces, adjusting decorations and banners. Something was happening.

“Ma’am!” My assistant, Clara, hurried up to me, her voice laced with excitement. “They said Ms. Gwen is coming in today. She’s meeting with the board. It’s about the new collaboration deal with the overseas branch.”

Gwen.

Of course.

She was Skydom’s darling — the charming PR consultant who had Elijah’s full attention and the shareholders’ praise. Beautiful, manipulative, and cunning. Everything came easily to her.

I swallowed my discomfort and nodded calmly.

“Thank you, Clara. Go ahead, I’ll join the meeting shortly.”

But as I turned toward the elevator, my stomach twisted.

Today, I would have to face her.

---

The boardroom gleamed with glass walls and polished tables.

Elijah sat at the head of the table, unreadable as ever in his navy suit. His fingers tapped his pen lazily, but his eyes — those sharp, cold eyes — didn’t lift when I entered.

“Good morning, everyone,” I greeted quietly, taking my seat near the end of the table.

“Ah, she’s here,” a voice sang.

Gwen.

She glided into the room as though she owned it — soft curls brushing her shoulders, lips painted in the perfect shade of confidence.

And beside her, Elijah’s gaze softened in a way I hadn’t seen in years.

That same softness I heard in his voice last night.

My heart clenched painfully.

She smiled sweetly at the board before her eyes flicked to me — mock surprise lighting her expression.

“Oh, Jenna,” she purred. “You’re here too? I didn’t expect to see you in this meeting. Isn’t this a bit above your position?”

A few of the executives exchanged awkward glances. One cleared his throat. “Mrs. Spencer is our senior design consultant. She’s part of the project development team.”

Gwen’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh, right. I forgot. You’re still playing designer, aren’t you?”

Her tone dripped with sarcasm.

Elijah said nothing. Not a word.

He didn’t even look at me.

The silence burned.

I forced a small, polite smile. “Designing is still my job, Gwen. Even if some people forget it.”

Her lips twitched. “Of course.” Then she tilted her head innocently. “But shouldn’t you focus more on charity events and social dinners? Or perhaps… on keeping her husband company?”

The words were casual, but the message behind them was poisonous.

Everyone knew who Elijah spent his nights with.

A soft murmur rippled through the room. I kept my hands clasped tightly on my lap, nails digging into my skin beneath the table.

“I prefer work over gossip,” I replied calmly, though my throat burned. “It’s more productive.”

Gwen’s smile faltered for just a second before she masked it with a laugh. “Still as defensive as ever, I see. You haven’t changed a bit.”

Elijah’s pen tapped once, sharp against the table. “That’s enough,” he said coolly — but his tone wasn’t for her. It was directed at the room, not at Gwen. Not for me.

He wasn’t protecting me. He was ending the scene for his own convenience.

---

After the meeting, I gathered my files and turned to leave. My hands trembled slightly as I closed my laptop.

Behind me, Gwen’s laughter echoed.

“Oh, Jenna,” she called sweetly, “you should drop by my office later. I have some design drafts you might want to *approve*. After all, we wouldn’t want the company’s image to suffer, right?”

I knew exactly what she was doing — reminding everyone that I was beneath her, even though she wasn’t even officially part of the design team.

I straightened my back and met her gaze. “Of course,” I said softly. “Send them over. I’ll review them.”

She didn’t expect that. Her smile stiffened, but she quickly recovered, flipping her hair. “Perfect. See you then.”

Elijah finally looked at me, his eyes unreadable. “You can leave now, Jenna.”

And that was it.

No defense. No care. No trace of the man I once believed could feel anything for me.

---

By the time I reached my office, my hands were shaking.

I closed the door quietly behind me and sank into my chair, burying my face in my palms.

I wasn’t just humiliated — I was invisible.

A soft knock came moments later. Clara peeked in, holding a small cup of tea. “Ma’am, I… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened out there. Ms. Gwen shouldn’t have said those things.”

I looked up at her and forced a small smile. “It’s fine, Clara. People like Gwen don’t change. They just find new ways to hurt others.”

She hesitated, then lowered her voice. “Everyone says she’s the reason Mr. Elijah even got married. That there was an arrangement between their families. Is that true?”

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

I wanted to tell her no. That there was more to it. That maybe — once — Elijah had cared, even a little. But lying felt heavier than silence.

“I should get back to work,” I whispered finally.

Hours passed. I stayed buried in design drafts, trying to focus on lines and colors instead of the ache in my chest.

When the office lights dimmed for the evening, I reached into my bag and touched the ultrasound photo again.

Three tiny lives. Two reasons to keep breathing.

“Don’t worry,” I whispered, pressing a hand to my stomach. “Grandma Elise used to say love doesn’t always come wrapped in kindness. But I’ll give you all the love she gave me.”

I smiled faintly through tears. “You’ll never have to beg for it like I did.”

Outside my door, Gwen’s laughter drifted down the hallway again — bright, confident, poisonous.

And mixed with it was Elijah’s deep, familiar voice.

For a brief moment, I thought I’d break.

But instead, I stood up, straightened my blouse, and whispered to myself,

“You’re not her shadow anymore, Jenna. Not this time.”

The building was quieter by evening.

Most employees had gone home, leaving behind only the faint hum of the air conditioners and the muted clicking of cleaning staff down the hall

l

I was still in my office, gathering files, when the door creaked open.

I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

The soft fragrance of Gwen’s designer perfume gave her away before her voice even did.

“Still working late, Jenna?”

I looked up, slowly closing the file in front of me. “Gwen.”

She leaned against the doorway, all casual charm and effortless poise. Her red heels gleamed beneath the warm light, her smile perfectly curved — but her eyes held nothing but disdain.

“It’s surprising,” she said, stepping inside. “You actually take this job seriously. I would’ve thought by now you’d be tired of pretending.”

“Pretending?” I repeated quietly.

She walked closer, her tone almost teasing.

“Come on, Jenna. You can drop the act. We both know you don’t belong here — not in this company, not in Elijah’s life. You were just... a convenient cover.”

Her words hit like tiny shards of glass, but I didn’t flinch. Not this time.

I stacked the papers neatly, pretending not to notice her circling around my desk like a vulture.

“If you’re here to gloat,” I said softly, “you can save your breath. You’ve already done that in front of the whole board.”

Gwen chuckled. “Oh, darling, that wasn’t gloating. That was just a little reminder of how high above you I stand.”

She reached out and picked up one of my sketches — a design draft I’d spent hours perfecting. Her eyes scanned it briefly before she dropped it carelessly back on the desk.

“Elijah asked me to look over the design proposals. I might make a few changes before he signs them.”

My jaw tightened. “You’re not part of the design team, Gwen.”

“But Elijah trusts my judgment,” she said sweetly. “Something you’ve failed to earn even after two years of marriage.”

My pulse quickened, anger rippling through my veins. I wanted to scream, to throw something, to make her see what she was doing — but I didn’t.

Instead, I met her gaze, calm and steady.

“You can have his attention, Gwen,” I said quietly. “You always could. But what you’ll never have is peace. Because no matter how many times you win, you’ll still be jealous of what you can’t destroy.”

Her smile froze. For the first time, her confidence cracked — just slightly.

“Jealous?” she repeated, a small laugh escaping her lips. “Jealous of *you*?”

I didn’t answer. I just stood up, gathering my bag.

“You hate me because you need me to exist,” I whispered. “Without me, there’s no one left to compete with.”

Gwen’s expression darkened, her voice lowering into a dangerous whisper.

“You think you’ve won something just because Elijah put a ring on your finger? Please. That ring was a transaction. You were the charity case — the pitiful substitute he needed when I wasn’t available.”

Her words burned.

For a moment, I froze — my hand tightening on my bag strap.

“You should’ve stayed hidden, Jenna. You had your quiet, pitiful life. You didn’t need to step into ours.”

She leaned closer, her perfume suffocating, her voice venom-sweet.

“You’ll lose everything soon. Elijah’s just playing his role. And when he’s done, he’ll come back to me. He always does.”

I forced myself to breathe, to hold her gaze without breaking.

“If you’re that certain,” I said softly, “why are you here trying to convince me?”

That single line stopped her.

Her smile wavered — just enough for me to see the flash of insecurity beneath it.

For all her arrogance, Gwen hated one thing more than anything else: doubt.

I stepped around her calmly and reached for the door. “Good night, Gwen.”

But just as I reached the handle, her voice sliced through the air.

“Does Elijah even know?”

I froze.

“Know what?” I asked quietly.

She tilted her head, smiling like a predator who had just scented blood.

“That you’re pregnant.”

My breath caught.

She laughed softly. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. I have friends at the clinic. It wasn’t hard to find out. Three heartbeats, isn’t it?”

My fingers trembled on the door handle.

“How cruel of you, Jenna,” she continued, voice low and mocking. “To trap a man who doesn’t even want you — with children he’ll never love.”

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

“You don’t know anything about love,” I said hoarsely. “You only know how to take it.”

Then I pushed the door open and walked out before she could see me break.

---

In the corridor, I pressed my back against the wall, trying to breathe.

My hands shook so hard I nearly dropped my bag.

She knew.

Gwen knew about the pregnancy — and if she knew, it was only a matter of time before Elijah did too.

But the way she said it… the delight in her voice…

I knew she wouldn’t keep it quiet for long.

I clutched my stomach protectively, whispering through trembling lips,

“No one will hurt you. Not her, not him. I won’t let them.”

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside, wiping my tears before they could fall.

As the doors closed, my reflection stared back at me — pale, hollow-eyed, but still standing.

For the first time, I realized:

It wasn’t love that kept me here anymore.

It was a war.

And I was done losing.

The house was quiet when I returned.

The faint tick of the clock echoed through the wide, dimly lit living room.

Elijah sat on the couch, sleeves rolled up, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand. The city lights poured through the tall windows behind him, brushing against the sharp lines of his face.

He didn’t look up right away.

But I felt his eyes follow me the moment I stepped in.

I set my bag down by the stairs, keeping my voice steady. “I’m home.”

No response. Just the soft sound of ice clinking in his glass.

I didn’t wait for a greeting. I walked toward the kitchen, each step measured, calm. I’d long stopped expecting warmth.

Behind me, Elijah’s gaze lingered. He noticed.

How I didn’t ask if he’d eaten.

Didn’t ask if he wanted me to prepare anything.

Didn’t even glance in his direction.

She’s pretending I’m not here, he thought coldly.

His fingers tightened around the glass. She used to ask me everything — if I was tired, if I wanted dinner, if I was coming to bed. Now she moves like a stranger.

I filled a glass of water and drank quietly, my back turned to him.

She doesn’t even look anymore.

It’s like I’m invisible in my own house.

He leaned back slowly, his jaw tightening. He could tell she was keeping her distance deliberately, like she was playing a game.

Hard to get.

But Jenna didn’t look like a woman playing. Her eyes were hollow, her face pale from holding too much in.

When I walked past him again, he caught a faint trace of my perfume — familiar, clean, something that used to ground him. But tonight, it only made him restless.

She’s getting quiet. Too quiet.

For a long moment, he watched me walk away — no questions, no hesitation, no trace of the woman who used to wait by the door just to make sure he came home safe.

Now she just disappears.

His eyes dropped to his drink, the amber liquid catching the light

Let her keep pretending, he told himself.

Let her act indifferent.

It won’t last.

But as the sound of my footsteps faded up the stairs, his chest tightened unexpectedly — a flicker of something sharp and unfamiliar tightening inside him.

He didn’t understand it, didn’t want to.

He leaned back, closing his eyes briefly.

She’s really not going to say a word.

When he opened them again, the stairs were empty.

The house felt colder.

He lifted his glass, finishing what was left, letting the burn trail down his throat.

Maybe silence was what she wanted.

Fine. She could have it.

Yet as the quiet stretched through the room, he found himself listening — waiting — for the soft sound of her door closing upstairs.

And when it finally came, he realized he’d been holding his breath.