Chapter 3

By the time I stumbled back to the house, it was already midnight.

This was the home I had designed with my own hands, every corner built with my sweat and devotion.

Yet now, it felt like a lavish tomb, burying five years of my youth.

The master bedroom glowed with a warm golden light.

Matthew wasn’t there, but his phone sat charging on the nightstand.

The screen suddenly lit up with a WhatsApp message.

Out of habit, I opened it.

Matthew had never set a password—he used to say there should be no secrets between husband and wife.

Looking back, the irony was almost laughable.

The message was from Sophie: [Miss me, baby?]

Attached was a steamy bathroom selfie, blurred by mist.

She was completely naked.

My stomach lurched.

“What are you looking at?”

I looked up.

Sophie leaned casually against the doorframe, wrapped in my bath towel.

She strolled in and sat on the edge of the bed—on my side.

“You know,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness, “this bed… we were on it last night…”

She let the words hang, her eyes taunting me.

I ignored her and scrolled through Matthew’s phone.

There was an encrypted album labeled Ella.

I tried her birthday—0415—and it opened.

Every photo was of Ella, from her first moments to now, each one captured with care.

The earliest was time-stamped April 15th, five years ago, in the early morning.

In it, Matthew held a newborn in his arms, his face glowing with pride and tenderness.

April 15th—the day after our wedding.

That morning, I had woken up alone.

He’d told me there was an urgent matter at work.

I had believed him, so much so that I made breakfast and waited for him to return.

In truth, he’d been in a delivery room with another woman.

I kept scrolling until I found a video.

Matthew held Ella, his voice melting with affection.

“You’re Daddy’s little princess… Daddy will always love you.”

Sophie’s weak voice came from behind the camera, “Thank you for being here, Matthew.”

“Of course,” he had said as he kissed the baby’s forehead.

“You gave me a daughter. I’ll always be here for you. Thank you, Sophie.”

My hands trembled.

“See?” Sophie leaned in, her chin resting on my shoulder, her breath brushing my ear.

“Ella looks just like Matthew—especially those eyes. It’s like they were carved from the same mold.”

She pulled out her phone.

“Since you’ve already seen that, why not see these too?”

She opened a video.

The camera shook, but the scene was unmistakable—two bodies tangled together. Matthew pressed over Sophie, his movements fierce, her moans sharp and grating.

“This was the night before last,” she said, licking her lips.

“While you were in the hospital, Matthew told me he missed me.”

She swiped to a photo.

Matthew, shirtless on a hotel bed, Sophie draped across his chest. Both of them looked utterly satisfied.

“This was this afternoon,” she continued.

“He told you he had a meeting. He came to me.” She leaned close enough for me to smell her perfume.

“He said you were boring. Like a dead fish.”

One picture after another. One video after another.

Five years—and they’d never stopped. And I, fool that I was, had only just learned the truth.

“Well?” Sophie tilted her head as she savored my expression.

“You were just a stand-in. Matthew needed the perfect wife for appearances. But I am his true love.”

I set Matthew’s phone down and pulled out my own.

I dialed the number I had already called once in the elevator, but I needed to hear it again.

“Changed your mind?” David asked. He sounded slightly tense.

“No.” My eyes stayed locked on Sophie.

“I just wanted to confirm—three days from now, you’ll be waiting for me at City Hall, right?”

“Ava,” his tone sharpened into certainty, “I’ve waited five years for you. I meant every word. I swear it.”

I ended the call and stood up.

Sophie blinked, caught off guard.

“Who were you speaking to? David? The Wall Street prince?”

“That’s none of your concern.”