I didn’t even remember how fast I moved. One moment, Hannah was right beside me.
Next, her eyes went distant, and her knees started to give way.
She was losing consciousness.
I caught her before she hit the ground. Oh God, what do I do?
“Hannah,” I called out. I shook her gently. “Please look at me.”
She didn’t respond.
“Somebody help!” My voice came out hoarse as I shouted..
The maid screamed behind me. Johnson, one of our drivers, rushed over. “Sir, what happened?”
“She fainted,” I said. “Open the car. Now!”
“Should we call an ambulance?” someone asked.
I didn’t wait. I was already carrying her to the car.
Hannah’s head rested against my shoulder. I held her tight. She felt so light in my arms. So still.
Please, I prayed. Just let her be okay.
I’ll fix this. I’ll do anything.
I never meant for it to go this far. It was supposed to be nothing. Only a stupid mistake.
I never planned on cheating. I didn’t love the other woman. I barely knew her.
It was after one of the worst fights Hannah and I had. When the test came back negative again, she locked herself in the bathroom for hours.
Hannah wouldn’t talk to me. I just wanted the pain to stop… You know, to feel like someone needed me.
But that night turned into a mess I could never take back.
I knew she was already suspicious. I saw it in her eyes last night.
I thought a special dinner would make things better, that it would ease whatever doubts she had.
But it didn’t.
Hannah only seemed more certain that something was off.
I can’t let her find out. I had to keep this secret.
If she knew… she’d leave. I couldn’t lose her. Not like this.
She’s my precious in my whole life.
“Stay with me,” I whispered to her. “I need you more than anything.”
**********************************
HANNAH
I woke to the bright lights above me. There was also a steady beeping noise somewhere.
Everything in my body ached. I blinked slowly. The first thing I see is white.
The second was him.
Nico.
He was sitting on my bedside. His hands were clasped. It looked like he had been praying.
For a moment, I should’ve been touched. He’d been here, waiting for me to wake up.
But no.
Everything that happened before I fainted came rushing back. I wasn’t overthinking. I wasn’t imagining things.
Nico slept with another woman. I just needed to hear it from him.
He looks relieved when he sees I’m awake. Something in him unclenched.
Too bad for him. All I felt was rage. Fuck, I wanted to slap him right now.
“Honey?” he called out. “Thank goodness. You’re awake.”
“You cheated on me,” I whispered.
His expression faltered. He caught it instantly.
“What are you talking about?” he asked. His eyebrows furrowed like he didn’t know what I was talking about.
Lying son of a bitch.
“I saw the photo,” I said, louder now. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
He blinked. “I don’t… What photo?”
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” I shouted. “Give me my phone.”
He didn’t argue. Without a word, Nico reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out my phone.
He placed it carefully in my hand. I was filled with adrenaline as I grabbed it. I swiped through everything — messages, gallery, and deleted folders.
But nothing.
No image. No message. Just proof.
Someone had wiped the evidence clean. I feel cold all over.
I knew what I saw.
“I didn’t delete it,” I said. “It was there. I didn’t even save it. H-how the hell—”
Nico reached for me. I jerked away the second he touched me.
“Hannah,” he said. “Listen. You’ve been through so much lately. Maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe your mind — ”
He even had the audacity to gaslight me. “Don’t. You do not get to say that to me,” I snapped.
“I’m not trying to upset you. I just think you need to rest. You've been under pressure for months now. The fertility treatments, my mom, and the stress… I know you’re just overwhelmed right now.”
“Overwhelmed?” I scoffed. “You really think I hallucinated a picture of you in bed with another woman?”
“I think you need time and space. You know what? Let’s go away. Just you and me. No phones. No appointments. We’ll reset.”
“You really think a silly vacation would fix this?” I laughed. “You must be joking.”
He walked slowly to my side. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”
“Then why wasn’t I enough?”
He flinched. “You are enough. You’ve always been enough.”
God, I wanted to believe him so badly. A part of me still yearned for him to tell me everything would be okay.
But I couldn’t. Not after what I’d seen.
For a second, I thought I might break right there. My tears were about to spill.
I blinked hard and looked away. I wouldn’t let him see me cry.
I knew he would use my vulnerability. I need to get the fuck out of here.
“I’m leaving,” I said coldly.
“You’re not going anywhere like this.”
“Try and stop me.”
He blocked the door. “Hannah, please. Just talk to me.”
“I am talking. I’m saying I’m done!”
I was about to leave but he kissed me passionately.
It was the kind of kiss that once made my heart skip, back when I believed him. But now, all I feel is disgust.
The thought of him kissing me after fucking another woman made my skin crawl.
It felt dirty. I shoved him, wishing I could wipe the taste of his lips away.
He didn’t budge. He was still forcing himself into me.
I bit him for him to back off. His lip split beneath my teeth. He stumbled back with a curse.
“Shit!” he yelled. “Why did you do that for?”
I stared at the blood at the corner of his mouth.
I wiped my own lips. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
“Hannah — ” he said, trying to calm himself down. “I was shocked. I didn’t mean to…”
“I want a divorce!” I cut him off and shouted.
And this time, I meant it more than I’ve ever meant anything in my life.
DAVIDThe papers stank of smoke when Hannah slid them across the table to me.We were holed up in the flat above an abandoned storefront two blocks off the avenue, the one Elise had rigged as a “dead zone” for signals. No cameras, no bugs, no ears but ours. The curtains were nailed shut, the only light a desk lamp angled low. She’d wrapped the scraps in her shawl like contraband, and now they spread across the tabletop in black curls and ash-smudged fragments.I handled them with tweezers, my gloves streaked gray.Numbers. Account codes. Wire transfers through Belize and Cyprus, dates lining up with key contracts Mancini Industries had no business winning. A list of names scribbled in a hand I’d recognize anywhere. Nico’s.And one scrap that made my jaw clench until my teeth clicked: Hawthorne. The clinic. Right there in his handwriting, paired with a line item labeled “retainer.”“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “He wasn’t just a monster in his house. He’s been laundering half the city thr
HANNAHThe house no longer hummed with confidence; it hissed. Every corridor carried whispers. Staff voices dipped when Nico passed, eyes cutting sideways like they were checking who was still left standing. Even Alvarez, usually the model of composure, moved with clipped steps, head down, her jaw tight as she poured my tea.“Thank you,” I murmured.She gave the smallest nod, quick, like acknowledgment was dangerous.I tucked the moment away. Nico always thought power was in boardrooms, in headlines. He never understood the weight of the staff who cleaned the glasses, who carried the trays, who decided whether a door closed softly or slammed loud enough to echo. If the staff were whispering, it meant the house itself was turning against him.**********************************By noon, the cracks spread past the walls. A call with one of his biggest partners ended in silence so thick I could hear the static between his teeth when he hung up. I was sitting nearby, playing the role of dut
HANNAHThe internet moved faster than grief. By morning, the videos were everywhere—angled shots from glittering phones, some shaky, some blurred, but all carrying the same brutal truth: Nico Mancini, the perfect husband, the careful host, had shoved Sydney across the ballroom floor in front of two hundred guests and a dozen reporters.Hashtags bloomed like bruises. #ManciniMeltdown. #VowsAndViolence. #BehindTheSmile. Clips stitched together—him shouting, me standing still, Sydney’s gasp, Veronica’s thin smile frozen in the background. Commentators on morning shows dissected every gesture like they were archeologists dusting bones.The narrative he had written for himself—devoted husband, reconciled marriage, a vow renewal built on forgiveness—was unraveling in real time. And I was still here in his house, wearing his ring, brushing my teeth in the same marble sink as if everything hadn’t shifted overnight.I scrolled in silence, back braced against the headboard, phone cold in my hand
HANNAHThe last champagne glass had barely been cleared before the silence turned dangerous.Guests shuffled out in clusters, buzzing like hornets carrying the sting with them, whispers too loud to be whispers anymore. The ballroom smelled of lilies and sweat, of spilled wine and shattered glass. Phones still glowed in hands as people typed the first headlines into the world.Nico hadn’t looked at me once while they left. Not once. He’d held himself rigid, smiling too wide at the guests who dared to offer pity, shoulders square as if posture alone could glue the night back together. But the moment the last guest’s heel clicked against the marble and the front doors shut with a heavy thud, he turned.The mask dropped.“Upstairs,” he snapped. His voice wasn’t loud—he didn’t need loud. It was a command polished by years of expecting obedience.I didn’t move. My dress clung to me like another layer of skin, suffocating, emerald silk meant to scream loyalty. It screamed cage instead.His ja
DAVIDNico’s shove had already hit every lens in the room. Phones lifted, flashes stuttered, the gasps turned into the messy chorus of a scandal being born. Sydney, shaking in her blood-red dress, stood with a hand to her elbow, hair wild from his grip. Hannah… Hannah stood like she’d known all along this would be the moment. Too calm, too poised, a statue in emerald silk while the house burned behind her.I pressed my earpiece tighter. “Eyes on her,” I told Omar, who had the east exit. “Anyone gets too close, you intervene.”“Copy,” he said, low and sharp.Beside me, Elise didn’t look away from her screen, where half a dozen feeds stitched the chaos into a single story. “It’ll be online before midnight,” she whispered. “Clipped, captioned, memed. By morning, he’s not a husband. He’s a headline.”I should’ve smiled. God knows, I’d worked long enough in shadows to recognize when a tyrant dug his own grave. But the weight in my chest wasn’t pride. It was fear. Because Hannah wasn’t done.
HANNAHIt only takes one sentence to tilt the whole room.Veronica says it like she’s weighing pearls in her palm, soft enough to sound civilized and sharp enough to make people bleed: “Maybe Hannah should explain why Nico keeps so many secrets locked in his safe.”The ballroom exhales wrong. The hum of champagne and small talk collapses into a low, animal murmur. You can hear the shift—the delicate scrape of chairs, the hush of silk against silk, the microphones on the cameras waking up as hands tighten around them. Even the lilies seem to hold their breath.My spine stays straight. That’s the rule: don’t show your pulse. I keep my hands loose at my sides even though my ring finger aches to tap the signal—two taps, eyes up; three, location; four, break the glass. Not yet. Not while every lens in this room is hunting for a crack in my face.The word safe ricochets in my ribs. She knows. Maybe not what’s in it, but she knows it exists. She said secrets like she’s counted them.Nico’s he