Once a rejected wife, now a billionaire’s obsession

Caroline

The first thing I hear is screaming—many voices. My eyes flicker open. The big bedroom is empty, and the other side of the bed is cold too.

My fingers touch the sheet beside me, and a small frown forms on my face.

Grey must have left early. Again.

Part of me feels disappointed, but another part tries to make excuses for him, as I always do. He’s busy. He has meetings.

That’s what being married to a powerful man means, right?

The sunlight creeps through the curtains, soft and warm against my face. The sheets are still tangled around me.

The screaming continues, making me sit up.

What the hell is going on?

My body becomes so alert. This kind of noise doesn’t just fill the house. Are the maids fighting?

I throw off the sheets and get out of bed. Immediately, I step into the living room, and the voice grows louder.

So many voices—female and male—make my ears bleed.

The maids are also in the living room, whispering among themselves. If they’re not fighting, then what could be happening?

I go to the floor-to-ceiling window and pull back the curtains.

My body freezes.

There are many people outside my house—dozens with cameras, microphones, reporters swimming everywhere. Paparazzi too. Oh my God. What the fuck is this?

For a moment, I simply stare. Why are there reporters in my home?

Then one of them notices me staring. “Mrs. Grand.”

My stomach twists as I watch the scene, confused.

More cameras turn toward the window, flashes explode.

“Mrs. Grand, is it true?”

“Did you know about your husband's affair?”

“Are you divorcing him? Is that why you don't care?”

“Are you okay with him cheating openly?”

The words hit me one after another, causing my brain to roar. I take an unsteady step back.

Is this a dream?

Affair. My husband. Another woman. Divorcing.

My fingers tighten on the curtains. “What are you talking about?” I mouth, sounding stupid to myself.

The front door suddenly shakes, almost making me jump out of my skin.

Someone is knocking. “Mrs. Grand, come outside and answer the questions.”

The maids whisper among themselves, some looking at something on their phones.

None of this makes sense. Why would strangers be telling me stuff about my husband?

The man I’ve been married to for six years. Grey can't cheat on me. He’s not like that. He loves me so much. He gives me everything I want.

Maybe there's a mistake. Maybe they’re at the wrong house.

My phone starts ringing. I grab it from the table, my legs trembling with every step.

Hundreds of notifications light up on my screen—different messages. The phone buzzes endlessly in my hand, and I clutch it tight.

My hands tremble as I open the first notification.

A picture—no, several pictures—of my husband with a woman, her face covered by her hair and oversized glasses.

BILLIONAIRE GREY GRAND SPOTTED WITH A MYSTERY WOMAN AT A HOTEL.

The words stare at me, like they’re meant to torment.

My husband, Grey, standing outside a hotel with a woman wrapped in his arms. She’s smiling, but the cameras didn't capture her face directly, so it’s hard to tell who she is.

Grey isn’t pushing her away. He’s not uncomfortable. He looks completely at ease, happy. His face radiates so much love I forget to breathe.

He holds her so tightly, as if she belongs to him. Like they’re in love.

My vision blurs. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood.

Blinking a few times, I try to make sure I'm not imagining things.

This is fake, I tell myself. The public is trying to ruin his image. It can’t be true.

But as I keep scrolling through the pictures, my legs begin to buckle.

The woman is wearing his shirt—the one I recognize so well, the one I saw him in yesterday.

The phone nearly slips from my hand. The TV in the living room suddenly fills with his face and hers.

The sound of reporters talking fills the room.

“Breaking news this morning, Grey Grand, CEO of Grand Enterprise, has been photographed with an unknown woman believed to be his longtime lover….”

I clutch the wall to keep from falling onto the marble tiles.

Longtime secret lover? Is this some kind of joke?

The reporters outside start shouting.

“Mrs. Grand.”

“Mrs. Grand.”

“Did your husband cheat on you?”

“Did you know about the other woman?”

Unknowingly, I walk toward the door. I don't even understand why. Maybe because part of me still believes if I step outside and look people in the eyes, Grey will explain this stupid misunderstanding, and maybe everything will be okay.

I will be okay.

When I open the door, the noise becomes overwhelming. Cameras flash in my face. Microphones are shoved toward me.

Everyone is screaming my name. My humiliation is public.

“Mrs. Grand, please say something.”

“Was your marriage a lie?”

I try to speak, but nothing comes out. I don't know the answers; I don't know anything. I look back at my phone—at the picture of my husband holding another woman with so much affection.

And for the first time in six years, I wonder if I really know the man who claims to love me with all his heart.

Everything feels like a dream. Things like this happen, but I never thought it would happen to me. I thought he loved me so much. I thought I was his everything. But right now, as I see the faces of strangers demanding answers to things that should be private, I'm not so sure.

I try to say something—anything—“I….”

My vision begins to spin. Everyone wants my reaction, my words. But I feel numb. As if I can't believe this is really happening, that I might wake up in my bed and realize all of this is just a terrible nightmare.

My voice breaks. “I don't know….” Tears burn behind my lashes. I sniff to stop them from falling.

The crowd falls silent. They look at me with various expressions, their eyes full of pity.

It’s so crazy—the wife of the powerful billionaire Grey Grand, pitied by the whole public.

The woman everyone envied, standing in front of her house as the world watches her marriage fall apart.

Suddenly, the honking of a car pulling into the compound shifts my attention from the reporters to the gate.

It’s my husband’s Rolls-Royce.

I used to be happy hearing that sound. Now, I'm terrified to see my husband.