Chapter 003

Inside the master bedroom of the Ashford mansion, four people occupied the same space, yet each of them was lost in a different world.

Fatima lay on the bed, her body still, her breathing shallow. Even in unconsciousness, her face looked strained, as though her body was fighting to hold on. She was suspended between awareness and darkness, her chest rising with effort, as if living itself had become something she had to work for.

Beside the bed stood a man in a white coat, he was the doctor. The man moved with calm precision, checking her vitals, adjusting his stethoscope, focused only on keeping her alive. To him, this was a patient, a body that had collapsed, a problem that needed solving. Nothing more, nothing less.

A few steps away was Nicholas.

He stood near the window, his hands clenched, his jaw tight, staring outside without seeing anything at all. Confusion and guilt twisted inside him, neither settling, neither giving him peace. He did not understand how this had happened. Only moments ago, Fatima had been standing, speaking, breathing. Now she lay unconscious, fragile, silent.

She was his wife. The mother of his children.

And yet, even as fear pressed on his chest, he knew the truth he had avoided for years. Their marriage had never been a love story. Fatima had been his partner, his support, his stability. She had stood beside him when his career was just beginning, when rumors followed him, when pressure threatened to crush him. She had given him two beautiful children and never once faltered.

He cared for her deeply. He respected her.

But love had never lived between them.

When he had become CEO, when his image mattered, he had needed a woman who fit the role. Fatima had been there. She had been suitable. Reliable. Respected.

Then three years ago, Leslie had entered his life and everything he had never felt before had found him all at once.

Leslie sat on the couch, her legs crossed, her posture stiff. Her eyes followed Nicholas as he paced, watched the worry etched into his face, and resentment burned quietly inside her. He had told her he did not love his wife. He had told her again and again that she was the one who mattered to him. So why did he look like this? Why was he falling apart over another woman?

Her fingers dug into her palms as her gaze drifted to Fatima on the bed. She could not tell whether the woman was truly unconscious or pretending, but either way, she was ruining everything. Today was supposed to be about her and Nicholas. They were supposed to be alone, relaxed, celebrating. Instead, she was here, sitting in the shadows, watching him worry about a wife he claimed meant nothing.

Leslie’s thoughts turned sharp, cruel. Renewing vows was not enough for her, was it? She had to take more. She had to collapse, to steal time, to pull him back every single time Leslie thought she had finally won. And really, who just faints like that? Leslie was convinced it was an act, another calculated move from a woman who had already taken so much.

Winning a married man with children was never easy. Leslie knew that. She had worked for this.

The doctor finally straightened and turned to Nicholas. “Give her a few minutes. She should wake up soon.”

Relief hit Nicholas hard, his breath leaving him in a rush. For a moment, panic had taken over completely. Fatima was not only his wife. She was their children’s world. Their two year old son, Wave, still needed her desperately. The thought of losing her had terrified him more than he wanted to admit.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Is there anything else we should do?”

From the corner of the room, Leslie rolled her eyes.

“I took a blood sample,” the doctor replied. “I will run some tests and call with the results.”

Nicholas thanked him again and walked him out, unaware of the danger he was leaving behind. When the door closed, silence filled the room.

Leslie did not move. She stayed where she was, staring at Fatima, her expression dark. Words slipped from her lips, low and bitter, meant only for the woman on the bed. Insults. Accusations. Quiet hatred.

When Nicholas returned, Leslie stood immediately. “What are we going to do?” she asked, stepping closer. 

“I will stay,” Nicholas said, running a hand through his hair. “Jonathan will take you home.”

Leslie’s chest tightened. That was not what she wanted to hear.

“I was thinking,” she said softly, closing the distance between them. “Maybe we should call her sister. She could look after her.” Her hands rested on his shoulders. Her lips parted slightly, her intention clear.

“She would kill me,” Nicholas replied honestly. Madelyn adored her sister. Calling her now, leaving Fatima behind, would raise questions he was not ready to answer. Fatima had protected him enough already.

“What about the maid?” Leslie whispered, her hands sliding down his chest. “I just want to be alone with you.”

His body reacted before his mind could stop it. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, temptation pulling at him. Then he stepped back.

“It is not right,” he said. “Not with her here.”

Leslie’s anger flared, but she masked it quickly. A smile replaced it. Without another word, she began to undress. Slowly… Deliberately.

Nicholas tried to resist. He truly did. But when her clothes fell away and she stood before him, naked, control slipped from his grasp. Desire overpowered guilt. He reached for her, lifting her into his arms, leading her out of the room.

When the guestroom door finally closed, Fatima opened her eyes.

She had been awake for longer than they realized. She had stayed still, afraid to move, afraid to face them. Tears slid silently down her temples as she stared at the ceiling. Her head throbbed, the bandage tight against her skin. She remembered losing balance, the dizziness, the fall.

She had not planned it. But part of her was relieved it happened.

“No,” she whispered to herself as she slowly sat up. She could still hear movement, faint sounds disappearing down the hall.

Her hands shook as she reached for her phone. The house was fitted with cameras. She hesitated, swallowing hard, hoping, praying he would have enough decency to stop.

Then she looked.

The screen showed the guestroom in real time. Clothes scattered across the floor. Nicholas and Leslie tangled together, bare skin against bare skin, moving with familiarity and hunger. His hands gripped her waist. Her head was thrown back, her body rising and falling against his. His face was twisted with pleasure, completely unguarded, completely gone.

Fatima’s fingers went numb.

Her breath caught as reality settled in, heavy and crushing. This was not a misunderstanding. Not a mistake. Not a moment of weakness.

This was choice.

A sob tore free from her chest as the phone slipped from her hand. She curled inward on the bed, clutching herself, her body shaking violently. Pain spread through her in waves, sharp and unrelenting.

He had not just betrayed her.

He had erased her.

In that moment, watching the man she had built her life around give himself so freely to another woman, something inside Fatima broke beyond repair. Whatever hope she had been holding onto dissolved completely.

Jonathan had been right.

She could not wait anymore.

Weak or not, sick or not, this was the end of pretending. The last piece of her heart had been destroyed, and she would not stay silent another second.