Leaving Mr wrong:The Heiress return

Annie’s pov

I stared at my wristwatch again 9:00 p.m. Still no sign of Mark.

The sound of the television hummed softly in the background, but I wasn’t watching. The anchor’s voice blurred into white noise as I sank onto the couch, one leg tucked under me, staring into nothing. He said he had been busy with work lately, but how much work could keep a man occupied for days or should I say, weeks?

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. The faint aroma of roasted turkey and wine drifted from the dining table my hopeless attempt at celebrating tonight.

Our fifth anniversary. And my birthday.

Both forgotten.

The candles I had lit had melted away, and even the decorations looked like trash now. The food sat almost cold.

I'd tried to believe he'd remember. That maybe he'd walk through the door with a bouquet of lilies, pretending it had slipped his mind. But the truth pressed harder the longer I sat there.

He wasn't coming home for me.

I remembered those days in college. He used to send me gifts every year, and for my final birthday, he made it unforgettable. I loved him with everything in me. He was intelligent and goodlooking, but things didn't go as planned after college. In secret, I asked my father for money and poured all my resources into helping him. He was surprised by how much I had, but I lied and told him I'd won a lottery.

He used to call me his peace ,his world ,his anchor .now I wasn’t even a priority.just maybe it was my punishment.five years of marriage and I still hand t been able to give him a child .

We'd adopted Lena , a sweet four-year-old who called me "mom" in a way that melted my heart. Mark said he was fine with it, that she was ours

The sound of the television pulled me back . A familiar name made my stomach twist

"Business tycoon CEO Mark Vale was spotted leaving the Haven Hotel tonight with award-winning actress Zita Torres..."

My head snapped up.

There he was.

My husband.

Handsome as ever in his black suit, one arm casually looped around the waist of a woman l'd only ever seen on magazine covers. She was radiant, her smile.

blinding under the camera flashes. And Mark-my Mark -was smiling too.

Not the polite, public smile I was used to.

But the kind that said he wanted to be there.

A hollow ache spread through my chest. I wanted to scream, to throw something, to shatter the silence that pressed in around me.

My phone chimed. It was a message from kate, my best friend.

Can I call?

"Yeah," | typed quickly, my fingers shaking.

Seconds later, her familiar face appeared on the screen.

"Happy birthday, bitch!" She shouted, her grin wide and bright.

"You already told me that at midnight," I said softly, forcing a smile.

"I know but it's still vour birthdav and I refuse to let your cocky husband ruin it ..”her eyes narrowed

“Wait…what channel was that on ?tell me you didn’t see it .

“I did..”I murmured

She sighed, her playful tone fading. "Maddie, I'm sorry. He's playing a dangerous game. I told you billionaires don't cheat; they invest in heartbreak."

I managed a weak laugh. "You're ridiculous."

"That's why you love me."

Kate had been my best friend since college; she was practically my sister. She had a successful fashion business. I had believed in her since college, and I always knew she would make it. So when she asked for help, I did not hesitate. I gave her the money to fund it.

"He hasn't even wished me a happy birthday," I admitted, my voice trembling.

"Then screw him. I promise you, he will pay. Happy birthday, gorgeous. Now go grab a glass of wine and stop waiting for a man who doesn't deserve your silence."

"Don't do anything, kate ," I said quickly. "Please."

"Fine. Just promise me you won't sit there crying all night. Go to bed, babe."

"I'll try."

The garage door creaked open. My pulse quickened. I stood, wiping my face with shaky hands.

The front door clicked, and then he was there, Mark Vale, every inch the powerful man the world saw: tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a black suit that fit like sin. His jaw was sharp, his expression unreadable.

He didn't look like a man caught in a scandal. He looked... indifferent.

"How could you, Mark ?" | blurted out before I could stop myself.

He paused mid-step, one brow arching. "How could I what?"

"You forgot my birthday," I said, my voice trembling.

"Our anniversary."

He scoffed, tossing his keys onto the console. "I didn't have time for childish celebrations. I was working."

"Working?" | choked out a bitter laugh. "Is that what you call being spotted at a hotel with Zita Torres?"

His eyes darkened. "It was a business meeting, Maddie . Don't make this into something it's not."

"Business meetings don't involve holding her waist,"

I snapped.

He exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You're being irrational again. Maybe if you focused on yourself instead of stalking tabloids, you'd stop humiliating both of us."

My lips parted in shock. "Humiliating you? I'm your wife."

He brushed past me, his shoulder hitting mine, the faint scent of whiskey clinging to him. "Don't wake Lena with your drama. Her room's beside ours."

"Drama," | repeated, my voice breaking. "That's what you call my pain?"

He didn't answer. He walked into the bedroom, his movements calm and detached, as if our life together wasn't burning to ashes around us..

I followed him, my bare feet cold against the marble floor. "Mark, look at me," | demanded.

He ignored me, unbuttoning his shirt with slow precision. "I've had a long day," he muttered. "I'm not doing this tonight."

Then he picked up a towel and disappeared into the bathroom.

The sound of running water filled the room.

For a long moment, I just stood there. My heart pounded in my ears, my hands shaking so badly ! had to clutch the edge of the bed to stay upright.

Then my gaze landed on his discarded trousers lying on the floor. Something inside me shifted -quiet, cold, deliberate.

I picked them up. My fingers searched through the pockets, trembling, desperate for proof I prayed I wouldn't find.

But I did.

A silver foil packet.