The Enemy Took His Wife And Baby.

The ballroom at the Velez Estate gleamed with gold and crystal, every corner dripping with wealth and elegance. It was a scene stolen straight from a luxury magazine spread. Guests twirled in couture gowns and designer tuxedos, glasses clinked, laughter bubbled, and cameras flashed from discreet corners.

But amidst all the celebration, Alessia Velez stood perfectly still beside her husband, trying to remember how to breathe. Every event was like this, her heart would race and search for perfection, not a hair that's out of place.

Her silver gown shimmered like ice, perfectly tailored to accentuate the curves that Roman once couldn't keep his hands off. Tonight, she felt like a mannequin on display very polished, posed, and utterly hollow inside.

Roman Velez, billionaire tech mogul and the coldest man she'd ever known, had barely looked at her since they arrived. He had fucked her, minutes before they got into the car but now, she is a ghost.

He was sculpted to perfection in a three piece black suit, his raven-black hair slicked back, jaw sharp enough to cut glass. He didn't smile, he never did unless he was winning something or ruining someone.

Tonight, it would be both.

Alessia's fingers tightened around her champagne glass. Her lips held a polite smile as the string quartet played softly in the background. This was their fifth wedding anniversary. Five years of standing by his side, of trying to crack through his armor. Five years of cold sheets and colder silences, five years of a marriage signed in a contract.

But some part of her had still hoped, hoped he would touch her again tonight, hoped that he would say something kind and remember who they used to be. It may have been just love on paper, but years ago? He was in love.

Roman walked toward the stage with effortless grace, took the mic from the event coordinator, and said,

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming."

There was applause, cheers, whistles, camera flashes, and the silence. Alessia held her breath.

"Tonight isn't just about celebrating Velez Tech's international expansion or our fifth wedding anniversary," Roman continued, his deep voice echoing through the hall.

"It's also about... clarity."

Alessia blinked. What? She has read his speech for tonight and this wasn't it. He has always made sure that she would reach his speeches, and signal when something wasn't right. She was a wife to the world but something less behind the camera.

Roman reached into his suit pocket, the guests leaned in. He pulled out a cream-colored envelope, the kind their legal team used.

"Alessia," he said, his tone calm, emotionless, final.

"Sign these."

The room fell silent, someone dropped a fork, the sound resonated and there were a few gasps.

Alessia's throat closed.

“What... what is this?"

He walked back toward her, placed the envelope in her trembling hands.

"Divorce papers." Roman didn't need her opinion, he didn't need her anymore either, not for the sex– he referred to the sex as ‘good’ and nothing more, his routine strippers gave him more.

He didn't need her for anything anymore, and what better way to let the world know that he was done.

She stared at him, heart pounding so hard she could hear it over the music. She stared at the crowd, and gulped. She was losing her mind, the room spun and every other sound drowned away.

"Roman, not here, not like this," she whispered, with a smile, trying to take hold of the situation.

He leaned in, lips brushing her ear, the way he used to before he had made her knees weak. But now, his voice was cold steel, this wasn't a role play sex scene, this wasn't where she would beg up to make her cum. This was real, Roman was done with her.

"You thought I wouldn't find out about Zane Wolfe? The messages? The meetings? You betrayed me." Roman yelled out, Alessia's eyes widened, he had gotten it all wrong, he could have asked her.

Her body trembled.

"Nothing happened, Roman. I never slept with him, you know I didn't. We were talking about something else."

He pulled back, his face unreadable.

"It doesn't matter. I can’t trust you anymore. And I won’t let you humiliate me."

The crowd was frozen, watching, the reporters had their microphone inches away from them, the camera flashed over and over getting every angle possible.

Alessia looked down at the papers, it had her name, his name, the date of marriage. And the reason for the divorce: Spelled out in Roman bold,

“Irreconcilable Differences.”

Her lips parted. "This is how you end five years?"

He didn't respond to her question, he ignored and whispered.

“There's a Sudan outside, in it is your belongings and a check for ten million dollars. I don't want to see you, I have a restraining order too.

Her hand shook as she took the pen the legal aide brought forward, she looked at the paper and saw his signature. She couldn't cry, she gathered every ounce of strength and confidence.

She signed the papers and stared at him, gasps rippled through the room.

Roman gave a single nod, the cameras kept flashing. Alessia’s hand dropped the pen like it burned her. She turned and ran.

The bathroom was too white, too bright. Alessia collapsed on the marble floor, heels tossed aside, her chest heaving.

How did it come to this? How had the man she gave her entire heart to throw her away like a business liability?

She gripped the edge of the counter, staring at herself in the mirror. Her mascara had run, her lips trembled. Her phone buzzed. A message from her doctor.

She had missed the appointment, but they had results.

With shaking hands, she tapped to call.

"Alessia? I'm so glad you called back," her OB said. "I wanted to confirm your test. The bloodwork is accurate. You’re…"

There was a pause, there was silence and just then, her head spun and her world froze.

"You're pregnant."

Alessia dropped the phone. She sat frozen on the floor, hand hovering over her stomach.

She couldn’t breathe. Roman had just divorced her. And now... she was carrying his child.