A Wife Without a Name

I read the email three times.

Your access to the Aster Tower project management system has been terminated, effective immediately.

For a moment, I wondered if there had been some mistake.

Maybe the system was undergoing maintenance. Maybe someone in IT had accidentally removed my account.

But after what happened in the ballroom, I knew better.

I opened my phone's browser and searched for the official Aster Tower website.

There it was.

A beautiful photograph of the building I had spent five years designing.

Below it was a headline.

An Extraordinary Vision Brought to Life by Cross Meridian Group.

I scrolled down.

Adrian Cross, Chief Executive Officer.

Martin Voss, Chief Operating Officer.

Celeste Wynn, Creative Director.

I kept scrolling.

Surely my name was somewhere.

It wasn't.

Not even a small acknowledgment at the bottom.

I searched the page for "Elena Reyes."

Zero results.

I tried "Elena Cross."

Nothing.

I felt sick.

"Elena?"

Leah found me sitting on a bench near the elevators.

She took one look at my face and sat beside me.

"What happened?"

I handed her my phone.

She read the email, then opened the website.

Her expression changed.

"That son of a bitch."

I almost smiled.

Leah rarely swore.

When she did, someone had usually earned it.

"He removed everything," I said. "My name, my access, even my project history."

"Do you still have your original contract?"

"Somewhere at home. I think."

"Then we need to find it."

I looked toward the ballroom doors.

Music was playing. People were laughing.

Adrian was probably shaking hands with another investor, telling everyone what a wonderful evening it had been.

"I can't believe he did this."

Leah touched my arm.

"Elena, listen to me. Don't confront anyone else tonight. Keep that email, take screenshots of the website, and don't try to access anything they've locked."

"Why?"

"Because if this becomes a legal fight, I don't want them accusing you of doing something improper."

A legal fight.

Against my own husband.

I used to think couples who ended up fighting over money simply stopped loving each other.

Now I was sitting in a hallway wondering whether the man I married had been planning to destroy my career.

The taxi ride home took twenty minutes.

I spent most of it looking out the window.

Port Meridian was beautiful at night. The waterfront glittered beneath the streetlights, and the towers downtown stood like enormous pieces of jewelry against the dark sky.

I used to love looking at buildings.

Even as a child, I would stare at old houses and wonder who designed them, who lived inside them, and whether the people who built them ever imagined what their work would become.

Tonight, I couldn't stop thinking about one building.

Aster Tower.

My building.

Or perhaps I wasn't supposed to call it that anymore.

When I arrived at our penthouse, the housekeeper had already gone home.

Everything was exactly as I'd left it.

The expensive furniture.

The enormous windows.

The framed wedding photograph above the fireplace.

In the picture, Adrian was looking at me like I was the only woman in the world.

I remembered that day.

He had whispered into my ear during our first dance.

"Whatever happens, Elena, we're a team."

I stood in front of the photograph for a long time.

Then I took it down.

Not because I hated him.

That would have been easier.

I took it down because I couldn't bear looking at two people who no longer seemed to exist.

I went straight to my home office.

Adrian liked calling it my little corner.

As though the room where I'd designed a forty-eight-story skyscraper was some cute hobby space.

I opened the filing cabinet beneath my desk.

Old invoices.

Tax records.

Sketches.

The original Aster Tower proposal.

I smiled when I found that one.

Its cover was stained with coffee, and the title had been handwritten in blue ink.

The Seventh Lantern — Elena Reyes.

My name.

Written before Adrian hired a marketing team.

Before the investors arrived.

Before Celeste Wynn had ever heard of the project.

I held the folder against my chest.

At least this much was still mine.

Then I searched for the signed design agreement.

It should have been in the second drawer.

I remembered putting it there after Leah insisted I keep a copy.

But the folder was empty.

I searched again.

Then a third time.

Nothing.

My phone rang.

Adrian.

I stared at the screen until the call ended.

A message appeared seconds later.

Adrian: Where are you?

I typed a reply.

Home.

Another message came.

Adrian: We need to talk. Don't make any decisions while you're upset.

I stared at those words.

There it was again.

That assumption that my feelings made me incapable of thinking clearly.

I put my phone down and opened my suitcase.

Adrian arrived shortly after eleven.

I heard the front door close.

"Elena?"

I kept folding my clothes.

He appeared in our bedroom doorway, still wearing his tuxedo.

His expression changed when he saw the suitcase.

"What are you doing?"

"Packing."

"I can see that."

"Then why did you ask?"

He sighed and stepped into the room.

"Can we please behave like adults?"

I placed another shirt inside the suitcase.

"I'm trying."

"By running away?"

I looked at him.

"I'm leaving for a few days."

"That's ridiculous."

"Maybe."

He loosened his tie.

"You're overreacting to a publicity decision."

I laughed.

A short, tired laugh.

"Is that what we're calling it?"

"Elena, you know exactly what I mean."

"Then explain the email."

He frowned.

"What email?"

"The one from IT. The one telling me I no longer have access to Aster Tower."

For the first time that evening, he looked uncomfortable.

Only for a second.

Then his expression returned to normal.

"Your involvement in that project has ended. We're restructuring the team."

"Without telling me?"

"It was an administrative decision."

"Made by whom?"

He didn't answer.

I nodded slowly.

"Of course."

He walked toward me.

"Look, I understand you're disappointed about tonight."

"Disappointed?"

"Let me finish."

"No, Adrian. For once, you listen."

He stopped.

I took a breath.

"I gave you five years. I worked when I was sick. I missed birthdays, holidays, everything. I even closed my own studio because you said we needed to focus on building our future."

His eyes narrowed.

"And I gave you everything you could possibly want."

I looked around the room.

The designer furniture. The imported marble. The enormous bed we barely shared anymore.

"Everything except respect."

He looked genuinely offended.

"That's unfair."

"Is it?"

"Do you have any idea what I've sacrificed for this marriage?"

I shook my head.

"I'm not doing this anymore."

"Doing what?"

"Arguing until I get tired enough to apologize."

He stared at me.

I closed the suitcase.

"Where is my original design agreement?"

His expression became guarded.

"What agreement?"

"The one between my studio and Cross Meridian. The signed copy I kept in my office."

"Why do you need it?"

"Because I want to know exactly what I agreed to."

Adrian was silent for a moment.

Then he said something that made my stomach tighten.

"You should read your contract carefully before making accusations."

I studied his face.

"What does that mean?"

"It means business is complicated, Elena. You can't simply claim ownership of something because you worked on it."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Something?"

"The company paid for the project."

"I created the design before the company even had the money to build it."

He looked away.

And suddenly, I realized I was having the wrong argument.

He wasn't trying to convince me that Celeste deserved the award.

He was trying to convince me that I never deserved it in the first place.

I grabbed my suitcase.

"Move, Adrian."

He remained in the doorway.

"Where are you going?"

"Leah's."

"You're my wife."

I looked at him.

"Apparently, that's the only title I'm allowed to have."

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he stepped aside.

I walked past him.

He didn't follow.

Leah was waiting downstairs when I reached the building entrance.

She got out of her car and helped put my suitcase in the trunk.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

I wanted to tell her yes.

Instead, I shook my head.

"No."

She hugged me.

And that was when I finally cried.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just enough that I couldn't pretend anymore.

Leah held me until I could breathe properly.

Then she opened the passenger door.

"Come on. We'll figure everything out tomorrow."

I climbed inside.

As we drove away, I looked back at the penthouse windows.

The lights were still on.

Adrian was probably already thinking about how to manage the situation.

How to protect his reputation.

How to make this problem disappear.

Maybe he thought I'd return after a few days.

Maybe he thought another expensive gift would fix everything.

He didn't know I had already decided something.

I wasn't going back simply because he wanted me to.

My phone vibrated.

An unfamiliar email address appeared on the screen.

The subject line made me sit up straight.

ASTER TOWER — FINAL DESIGN APPROVAL

I opened it.

Dear Ms. Reyes,

We are following up regarding the revised construction documents submitted under your professional authorization.

Our records indicate that your approval was received last month.

Please confirm whether you acknowledge the final revisions.

I read the message again.

Then I turned to Leah.

"There's something wrong."

She glanced at me.

"What is it?"

I showed her the screen.

Her eyebrows drew together.

"Did you approve these revisions?"

I shook my head.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

I looked down at my phone.

I remembered every major drawing I had approved.

Every meeting.

Every argument over materials and safety specifications.

And I knew one thing with absolute certainty.

"I never signed any final revisions last month."

Leah pulled the car to the side of the road.

"Elena," she said slowly, "then we need to find out who did."

I looked at the email again.

Somewhere inside Aster Tower's official records was a document carrying my professional authorization.

An approval I had never given.

And for the first time that night, I felt something stronger than heartbreak.

Fear.

Because stealing my name was one thing.

Using it to approve something I had never seen was something else entirely.