Chapter One

IRIS’S POV

I woke up to the usual silence of our Manhattan penthouse. 

The spot beside me on the massive king-sized bed was cold and untouched, the bed sheets were still perfectly smooth as if no one had slept there at all. 

I stared at the empty space for a long moment, brushing my hand over the fabric before I pulled it back. Three years of marriage, and this had become normal. Ambrose was already gone for work…again.

At least today was supposed to be different.

I dragged myself out of bed, the silk of my nightdress slid against my skin as I walked barefoot across the heated marble floors. 

The tall glass windows showed a perfect view of the New York skyline, but the beauty of the view felt hollow this morning. 

I wrapped my arms around myself and moved toward the kitchen, my bare feet made light  sounds on the ground as I moved.

“Happy anniversary to me,” I whispered, forcing a small smile on my face.

The staff were already moving around quietly when I got downstairs. Maria, our head housekeeper, looked up from arranging some fresh flowers and gave me a gentle nod.

“Good morning, Mrs. Dupont. Should I prepare your usual breakfast?”

I shook my head. “Not today. I’ll handle most of the preparations myself. It’s our third anniversary and I want everything to be perfect.”

Maria’s eyes softened with understanding, but she didn’t say much. They never did. Everyone in this household knew what our marriage really looked like behind the tabloid photos and the glamorous events. 

Ambrose gave me everything money could buy—designer clothes, this luxurious penthouse, credit cards with no limit, but what he hadn’t given me was his time or his touch in months.

I spent the morning going through every detail for the dinner I had planned weeks ago. The private chef would arrive later, but I wanted to choose the flowers, the candles, and the wine myself. 

As I arranged a vase of white roses in the dining area, my fingers came in contact with a small package tucked behind the arrangement. A beautifully wrapped gift with a simple cream envelope attached.

My heart lifted a little. Ambrose?

I opened it carefully and pulled out a rare first edition Marie Cathleen novel I had mentioned wanting months ago during one of our few quiet conversations. The note inside was written in neat handwriting: “You looked sad yesterday.”

Tears pricked at my eyes as I smiled softly, running my fingers over the old pages. He had remembered. For the first time in a long while, it felt like he was paying attention. 

Maybe tonight would finally change things, maybe he would finally see me again.

I spent the rest of the day overseeing everything. The dining table was set with our finest china, romantic music played in the background when I tested the speakers, and the scent of fresh lilies filled the air. 

I even chose my dress early—a light champagne-colored gown that hugged my figure elegantly without being too revealing. I just wanted to look like the wife he used to desire.

By afternoon, my best friend Camille arrived, carrying a small gift bag and her usual bright energy. She hugged me tightly the moment she stepped inside, her perfume made the atmosphere around me feel comfortable.

“Iris, you look beautiful already. Let me help you get ready. Come on, sit down and tell me everything.”

We moved to the bedroom where she helped me with my hair, twisting it into an elegant updo while we talked. 

Camille had been my rock through everything—the cold family dinners with Vivienne, the lonely nights, the way Ambrose sometimes looked right through me.

“You’re really going all out for tonight,” she said, pinning a strand of my dark hair. “I hope Ambrose appreciates it. He’s been so busy lately.”

I nodded, staring at my reflection. “He works hard and the company demands a lot from him. But tonight… I just want us to remember why we got married.”

Camille was quiet for a moment, her hands felt gentle as she worked. 

Then she spoke carefully. “I’ve seen him around more often these days. At a few events, with a woman from the Adeline family. Blair something. They looked… close. I really didn’t want to say anything before, but I’m worried about you.”

My stomach churned, but I quickly brushed it off, forcing a laugh that sounded fake even to my own ears.

“It’s probably just business, Camille. You know how these circles work, appearances and all that. Ambrose would tell me if it was anything more.”

She met my eyes in the mirror, her expression was soft but serious. “You always see the best in him, Iris. That’s why I love you. But promise me you’ll be careful. You deserve to be loved properly, not just tolerated.”

Her words unsettled me more than I wanted to admit. I quickly changed the subject, asking about her own life and laughing at her stories about recent galas. 

Having her here made the waiting easier. By the time she left, promising to call me tomorrow, the penthouse looked magical and everything was ready.

The hours ticked by slowly.

I waited at the dining table, the candles burned lower as time passed. The food stayed warm under the silver covers. 

I kept checking my phone again and again, but there were no messages from Ambrose. Just the usual silence.

By the time the clock showed almost three hours late, my heart was already heaving with disappointment. Still, I held onto hope. He would come. He had to.

The sound of the private elevator finally dinged. My heart jumped as I stood up to smoothen down my dress. I heard the sound of footsteps echoing across the marble—Ambrose’s familiar confident stride… and the loud clicking of heels beside him.

I froze.

A beautiful woman stepped into view beside my husband. She was tall, with flawless skin and long dark hair that fell in perfect curls. 

She wore a beautiful designer dress, and Ambrose’s suit jacket was draped casually over her shoulders. Her hand rested lightly on her stomach in a protective gesture as she looked at me with a polite, almost pitying smile.

“Happy anniversary, Mrs. Dupont.”