Chapter 2

One day, everything fell apart unexpectedly.

A message appeared on my phone—an image of Killian peacefully slumbering. His face was serene, but what grabbed my attention was the unfamiliar, lengthy strand of hair resting on his cheek.

In that instant, the harsh reality became apparent. Another woman had entered his life. All the lavish presents—the jewels, the designer gowns, the extravagant trips—were merely his way of assuaging his guilt, a wordless admission after each act of infidelity.

As I gazed at the image, my phone vibrated. The screen displayed his name—Killian, the man the world viewed as the quintessential spouse.

"Darling," he began, his tone warm and recognizable, "I've purchased a gift to compensate for missing our anniversary."

I looked up at the massive screen in the shopping center where his likeness loomed over admiring throngs, his every action inspiring jealousy and reverence. A wry smile played on my lips.

"I appreciate that," I responded calmly. "As it happens, I have something for you as well."

His astonishment was evident even through the phone. "Is that so? Darling, you're incredible! It's my mistake, yet you still made the effort to prepare a gift for me. I'm so fortunate to have you."

"You're welcome," I replied, my voice betraying none of the turmoil within. "I hope it meets your approval."

That evening, I carefully placed the meticulously prepared divorce papers into an envelope, sealing it decisively.

This would be my offering to Killian.

Killian requested my presence at his firm, insisting on a grand gesture. Before an assembly of employees and spectators, he presented me with the pink diamond necklace, its radiance mirrored in the admiring eyes of the onlookers.

He regarded me as if I were his entire world. "Darling, happy fifth anniversary!" he proclaimed, his voice brimming with fondness.

I smiled but remained silent. Because I was well aware—our fifth anniversary had passed three days prior.

As he secured the necklace around my neck, he leaned in close, his voice dropping to a murmur. "Darling, I apologize. There was an urgent matter at the company a few days ago—someone caused issues, and I had to intervene."

I nodded, indicating my comprehension. His posture visibly relaxed, as if unburdened.

Applause erupted as we embraced before the crowd, projecting the image of a contented couple. But as his arms encircled me, I detected a faint, unmistakable aroma clinging to his shirt—a feminine fragrance no man would wear.

A scent belonging to another woman.

I pulled back slightly and retrieved an envelope from my bag. "I have something for you as well," I said with a gentle smile, offering it to him.

Intrigue lit up his features as he accepted it, clutching the envelope to his chest like a prized possession. "Open it in fifteen days," I added, my tone light. "It will be a pleasant surprise."

His smile broadened, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. "A love letter, I presume? You've always been so sentimental. I still recall how we pledged in college to write each other a love letter annually, to keep the romance alive."

He sighed, his expression turning wistful. "It's been a decade since we began dating. Darling, you're remarkable—you never overlook the small gestures. I'm so blessed to have you."

I smiled and nodded, maintaining the facade.

For the past ten years, I had indeed composed a love letter for him annually, just as he claimed. But they never left my drawer, accumulating dust instead of memories. Now, as I considered it, those letters deserved the same fate as my feelings—a quiet, definitive conclusion.

The staff sighed in admiration around us, their voices filled with playful envy.

"Mr. Barnes, you and your wife exemplify true love! A decade together and still going strong!"

Another colleague chimed in, feigning a pout, "Please, Mr. Barnes, cease flaunting your relationship! It's almost criminal how perfect you two are!"

Killian laughed heartily, drawing me closer with an arm around my shoulders. Cameras flashed as people captured our "perfect" moment, and within minutes, the photos and videos would inundate social media, painting a glossy picture of the ideal couple.

Yet amid the sea of cheerful faces, one stood out—Anastacia Harris, Killian's assistant. Her lips were pressed together, her expression carefully neutral but her eyes betraying a smoldering anger.

After the spectacle, Killian leaned close and whispered, "Let's celebrate properly. I'll take you to that new French restaurant everyone's been talking about."

I nodded, maintaining my smile, and excused myself to the restroom.

As I washed my hands, a conversation drifted in from the corridor.

"Did you see that pink diamond necklace today? Oh my goodness, it's enormous—800 million dollars! President Barnes truly spares no expense for his wife!"

"I know! Ugh, I'm so envious. When will I ever find someone who treats me like that?"

Amid the excited chatter, a sharp scoff interrupted.