The Don's purchase

As soon as we got past the paparazzi, Wilbet immediately let go of my waist and glued his eyes to his phone. In the earlier months of our marriage, I would have been worried worried that maybe I did something wrong, something to piss him off, that made him withdraw his attention from me. But now, I honestly couldn't care less. Besides, if he held me any longer, I don't think the bruise underneath my dress would heal properly.You see, this event is a charity gala they hold every single year, with rich patrons flying in for an evening of unlimited champagne and networking spending money to make more money. This was the environment where Wilbet thrived; after all, he had an empire to run. But me? I didn't do anything. I had attended once, right after we got married, and was bored out of my mind. The rich and elite are as bland as their food, and let's not even talk about what happens when the champagne starts flowing.So, when Wilbet told me about this year's event, I declined, stating

The gala ended, and I didn't see him again. It was like he was never even there to begin with. Wilbet came hurrying down to meet me, his tie noticeably askew. I wouldn't say anything to him—I was mentally drained.After saying our goodbyes, we made our way outside, where the limo was waiting. I entered first, sitting back and settling into the seat. Wilbet shut the door with a soft click as the driver wordlessly pulled out of the parking lot. Hopefully, he wouldn't say anything, and this ride would be a peaceful one.Outside, the city went by in a beautiful blur of colors. I opened my eyes to admire the view, feeling Wilbet’s gaze on me intently.Then he broke the silence."What were you doing with that man?"I fixed my gaze outside, not giving him an answer. Maybe if I ignored him, he would leave me the hell alone.His fingers tapped along the side of the car in a slow, deliberate rhythm. He was waiting. But I still didn’t answer."Aziza," he said, quieter this time. Too quiet. "I as

"I’m all done, Mrs."Raya said as she excused herself to get her things ready to leave. As usual, she had done a stunning job—every bruise was efficiently covered, not a single trace left behind, like they had never existed at all. This was why Wilbet trusted her so much.And the dress… a work of art. A slender, simple silk gown from the archives of an ostentatious designer whose name escaped me. But it was breathtaking. Must have cost a pretty penny too. Anything to impress Malcolm Laurent, am I right?I stared at the woman in the mirror. She wasn’t me. She looked fearless. Stunning. The kind of woman people whispered about. The kind of woman others envied or wished they could be. But I was far—far—from that.I picked up the velvet box Wilbet had slid toward me earlier that morning at breakfast. Inside, nestled like temptation itself, lay the diamond necklace. I lifted the sparkling stones with careful hands and fastened them around my neck.It felt like a noose.A very expensive noo

The rain hadn’t let up all morning. It was as if the universe was on the same page with my mood. It drummed against the windows with a rhythm too deliberate to ignore. The kind of rain that didn’t ask for permission—just seeped into everything. It filled the silence with something just loud enough to muffle guilt and expensive lies.The house was still. Sarah had gone grocery shopping. Wilbet, by some small miracle, had vanished hours earlier, muttering something about a board meeting and urgent calls. I didn’t care. All I wanted was silence.And the library—smug, dark, and lined with leather-bound delusions, Wilbet’s might I add—was the one place no one would dare look for me. The kind of room that existed for appearances, not use. The scent of old paper and wood was reassuring, if I didn’t think too hard about it.I ran a hand along the spines until I found a familiar title. The Economics of Prestige. Typical.Wilbet loved to decorate shelves with things he didn’t read. As if intel

MALCOLM — POVI had always prided myself on my restraint and control. It was something I had honed over the years—carefully cultivated through brutal discipline and relentless precision. I had immense experience when it came to handling people, especially women. I knew how to make them feel wanted, understood, even cherished, all while keeping my heart locked behind iron bars. But when it came to her… all those years of experience went flying out the window.I first saw her at a debutante ball. She wasn’t the one being celebrated—no, she was simply there to support her older sister, who was making her grand entrance into society. While the entire room buzzed over the elegance and poise of the beautiful, condescending older sister, my gaze landed elsewhere. On her. She was like a breath of fresh air in that stuffy ballroom, a vision wrapped in soft silk and mystery. Her discomfort was evident—like she’d rather be anywhere else but there. That alone was amusing to me. Unpolished. Authe