Chapeter1:The Invisible Wife

Emily POV 

I woke up at 5:30 AM to an empty bed. Jason's side was cold—he had left hours ago for the gym, or so the story went. I didn't believe it anymore, but I'd stopped asking questions months ago. The answers only ever hurt.

I showered in silence, dressed in beige slacks and a sweater that had long lost its shape, and tied my hair back. The woman in the mirror looked nothing like the girl who had once commanded Formula 1 tracks at 200 miles per hour. That girl died seven years ago when I chose love over everything else.

Downstairs, I moved through my normal routine like clockwork. Coffee for Jason—two shots of espresso, a splash of oat milk, no sugar. I'd memorized it years ago. He had never once thanked me for remembering. I prepared his breakfast tray, arranged the newspaper he pretended to read, and set out his vitamins in the small crystal dish his mother had given us as a wedding gift. Everything had to be perfect. It was never enough.

The twins thundered down the stairs at 6:45. Ethan crashed into me immediately, wrapping his arms around my waist. "Morning, Mama!"

I kissed the top of his head, breathing in his little-boy scent. "Morning, sweetheart."

Lily didn't look up from her tablet. "Is Dad awake?"

"He left early."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course he did."

I set down the pancakes I had made from scratch, the recipe I had learned from my grandmother before the Lothan family disowned me. None of my children said anything about today being my twenty-ninth birthday. I waited, hoping, but nothing came. The kitchen felt too large, too empty despite three of us sitting there.

Margaret swept in at 7:00 sharp, her signature Chanel perfume announcing her before she spoke. She looked at the pancakes with undisguised disgust. "Emily, these things are too sweet. Jason is watching his sugar intake."

Not "good morning." Not "happy birthday." She had never called me daughter, never used any term that suggested I belonged to this family. In seven years, I had never been anything but "Emily" or "the mother of the twins."

"I'll make him eggs," I said quietly.

"See that you do and use egg whites only. His cholesterol levels were borderline at his last checkup." She poured herself coffee and sat at the head of the table like she owned the house. Technically, she did. The Blackwell mansion belonged to the family trust, and I was just living in it.

Jason arrived at 7:15, looking like he had stepped off a magazine cover. Designer suit, perfect hair, and the scent of expensive cologne mixed with something floral. The Perfume was not mine. I hadn't worn perfume in years—Margaret complained it gave her migraines. My life!

"Morning," he said without glancing my way.

"Happy—" I started, then stopped. If I had to remind my own husband it was my birthday, what was the point?

"Happy what?" He was already scrolling through his phone.

"Nothing. Your coffee's ready."

As I dropped the cup, I saw his phone screen lit up with a message from Vanessa. I watched his face change to a genuine smile, the kind he used to give me when we first met. When he thought I was just some random girl at a charity gala, before he knew I was Emily Lothan, the racing prodigy. Back when his smile meant something.

He typed back quickly, fingers flying. I caught a glimpse of the message: "Can't wait to see you too."

I turned away and busied myself with the dishes.

"I have back-to-back meetings today," Jason announced, still not looking at me. "Don't wait up for dinner."

"You said that yesterday," I replied. "And the day before."

"It's acquisition season, Emily. You wouldn't understand the pressure."

I had once negotiated multi-million dollar sponsorship deals while traveling the world. I understood pressure. I had just forgotten how to remind him of that.

At 8:00 AM, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Vanessa Brooks on our doorstep, impossibly polished in a cream dress that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Her makeup was flawless, her figure perfect in ways mine hadn't been since the twins.

"Jason forgot these contracts," she said, holding up a folder. Her eyes swept past me, cataloging the house like she was already planning how she would redecorate. "Oh, and good morning, Mrs. Blackwell."

The title sounded like an insult coming from her lips.

"Nessa!" Lily abandoned her pancakes and rushed to the door. "Did you bring more French chocolates?"

"Of course, sweetie." Vanessa produced a gold box tied with ribbon. "Only the best for my favorite girl."

My daughter had never rushed to me like that. Not anymore.

Jason emerged from his study, and I watched his face again. His shoulders relaxed. His entire carriage changed into something warm and attentive. "Vanessa, you didn't have to drive all the way here."

"Anything for you, Mr. Blackwell." She handed him the contracts, her fingers lingering too long on his. They stood close, too close, discussing business in low tones while Lily showed Vanessa a drawing she'd made.

My daughter sought praise from my husband's secretary instead of her own mother.

I was invisible.

Margaret appeared, all warmth for Vanessa. "Dear girl, you work too hard. Jason, make sure she gets a raise."

"Already done," Jason said, his hand briefly touching Vanessa's lower back as he guided her toward his study.

Of course it was.

They left together at 8:30—Jason, Vanessa, and Lily, who had begged to ride to school with them instead of me. "Nessa's car is so much cooler, Mom," she'd said. Only Ethan stayed, hugging me tight before his carpool arrived.

The house fell silent except for Margaret's disapproving sighs from the dining room.

I found myself in Jason's study. His desk held a framed photo from a recent company event—Jason and Vanessa, both laughing at something I wasn't part of. There were no photos of me. Not our wedding. Not the twins' birth. Nothing.

I opened his desk drawer, and my heart jumped when I saw the small velvet box tucked beneath some files. Maybe he had remembered. Maybe there was still something left of us.

Inside was a diamond bracelet, delicate and expensive. The receipt was dated yesterday—he'd bought it while I was home making his favorite dinner, the one that took three hours to prepare.

But it wasn't sized for me.

My wrists were broader from years of racing, from gripping steering wheels at impossible speeds. This bracelet was made for someone smaller, more delicate.

Someone like Vanessa.

I closed the box with shaking hands and placed it back exactly where I'd found it. My chest felt tight, like all the air had been sucked from the room.

"Mama?"

Ethan stood in the doorway. I hadn't heard him come back. Tears were streaming down my face, and I couldn't even wipe them away fast enough.

He ran to me and wrapped his small arms around my waist. "Mama, don't be sad. I love you."

"I love you too, baby." My voice cracked.

“I want to stay back today with you.” I should have taken him back to school but I was already exhausted as I thought of the work piled up for me. 

Through the window, I watched the gardener hauling my old racing trophies from the garage—he was acting on Margaret's orders to "clear out the junk." The championship cups that had once defined me, that had made me a household name across three continents, were being tossed into a donation truck. My first Grand Prix trophy, my championship cup, and the helmet signed by legends.

All of it—junk.

Seven years ago, I had walked away from everything for Jason. My family. My career. My identity.

What had I gotten in return?

A husband who bought jewelry for his secretary. A daughter who preferred that secretary to me. A mother-in-law who treated me like hired help. An existence so small I could barely recognize myself.

I pulled Ethan closer and stared at those trophies disappearing into the truck.

Something inside me whispered that today, my forgotten twenty-ninth birthday was the day everything would change.

I just didn't know how right it was.