001- The Picture Perfect Life

Billy’s arm was draped around Anne, his wife's waist, his breathing steady and deep.

She turned slightly, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the familiar slope of his nose, the faint scar near his eyebrow that she once kissed while he slept.

A smile played at her lips.

This was their ritual.

She slipped out of bed, throwing on one of his shirts, oversized, crisp, and comforting. In the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee quickly filled the space.

Moments later, Billy padded in behind her, shirtless, pressing a kiss to her temple as he reached for a mug.

“Morning, Mrs. Jackson.” he teased.

“Morning, Mr. Almost Billionaire,” she replied with a chuckle.

He smirked. “You’re never going to let that nickname go, are you?”

Anne turned, handed him his cup, and let her gaze linger. “I’m proud of you, Billy. I know I don’t say it enough, but what you’ve built and how far you’ve taken your company…it’s incredible.”

There was a flicker in his eyes. Something unreadable. He covered it with a grin and leaned in for a playful kiss. “I had help,” he said, tapping her nose.

But beneath the warm banter, there was a strange stillness. A tension. A hesitation in his touch. She felt it deeply but chose, as always, to ignore it.

******

Billy’s office stood in the heart of downtown—a glass fortress of ambition and control. Inside, everything reflected his personality: sharp, calculated, meticulously designed.

He sat behind his desk, exuding power, talking numbers, closing deals, commanding respect.

Watching him from across the room was Yvette. His assistant—sophisticated, poised, and ever-present—hovered just within reach but never too close. Her blouse clung a little too well, her smile lasted a beat too long.

“You have that lunch with Thompson at one,” she said smoothly, handing him a sleek folder. “But you might want to skip the shrimp this time. You know what it does to your stomach.”

Billy chuckled. “Noted. What would I do without you, Yvette?”

“I try to make myself indispensable,” she replied, tilting her head.

Her eyes darted toward the framed photo on his desk, Anne, her arms around Billy, laughing in the sunlight.

Yvette’s lips tightened for a split second but she blinked it away quickly.

Her phone buzzed. A message flashed on the screen.

*”Luis Santos: Still waiting for your move.”*

Without hesitation, she replied: *”My plan is none of your business.”*

The corners of her mouth curled, and she slipped her phone away before returning to her facade of competence and grace.

Meanwhile, across town, Anne sat at a small café terrace, sipping juice while Julie, her longtime friend.

“I’m telling you, Anne! That assistant of his… What’s her name again? Yvette? She gives off serious side-chick energy.”

Anne laughed lightly. “Julie, don’t start. She’s harmless.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “So was the snake in Eden. Don’t let your guard down.”

Anne sighed delicately. “I trust Billy,” she stated firmly.

“Do you, though? Or do you trust what you want him to be?”

Anne’s smile faltered.

Julie reached across the table, squeezing her hand. “Look, all I’m saying is be careful with her.”

“It’s okay, Julie,” Anne murmured. “There’s nothing she can do now. I have something that she will never have.”

Julie frowned. “What?”

Anne’s hand unconsciously moved to her belly. “I’m pregnant,” she announced with a grin.

Julie’s eyes widened. “Oh my God! Does Billy know?”

“Not yet. I want the announcement to be special. A dinner. Candles. Something he’ll remember forever.”

Julie looked skeptical but didn’t push. “Just... be careful. I know you’re happy, but don’t be blind too.”

Anne didn’t answer. She silently stroked her belly, staring into the distance with a smile. None of her friends words reached her ears.

Back at the office, as the sun dipped lower behind the skyline, Yvette hovered outside Billy’s door once again.

Her eyes glinted as she watched him step out to take a call. Seizing the opportunity, she slid inside. She moved swiftly, first to his desk then to his phone. With practiced fingers, she unlocked it, opened his calendar, and found the reservation Anne had made:

Dinner at 7:30. Home. Special surprise.

Her lips curled slightly as she deleted the reminder. In its place, she added a new one:

Dinner Meeting with Luis Santos. The Grand Monarch Hotel. Urgent.

She logged out and set the phone back in place.

Flawless.

Meanwhile, across town, Anne lit candles and laid the table with trembling hands. Her heart fluttered with anticipation as she checked the clock again.

The dinner was perfect—salmon, wine (non-alcoholic for her), and her favorite chocolate cake waiting in the fridge. Everything was just right. Now all she had to do was wait…

The clock ticked in the background.

Seven-thirty passed.

She sent him a text. No response.

Eight o’clock.

She called his number. It went straight to voicemail.

Eight thirty.

She walked over to the window, staring out into the darkness. Still no Billy. Her texts remained unread. Her calls went to voicemail.

By nine, the candles had melted into puddles. The food was cold. Her heart shattered.

Anne slumped on the couch, cradling her stomach and trying not to cry.

“Maybe he got stuck at work,” she told herself. “Maybe there was an emergency. Maybe—“

But a tiny voice whispered what she didn’t want to hear: “Maybe he’s not just not coming.”

Meanwhile, Billy stepped out of his car at the Grand Monarch Hotel, brows furrowed.

He glanced at his phone again, confused by the sudden dinner meeting he'd supposedly scheduled.

His mind replayed the reminder, but he couldn’t recall ever arranging it.

The lobby doors slid open. And then—

“Billy?” Yvette’s voice rang out in feigned surprise. She stood beside Luis Santos, her face a portrait of fabricated innocence.

“I thought you were meeting Anne here,” she said, blinking. “She told me she’d be here with Luis for some kind of special dinner? I didn’t know you were invited too... I guess she changed her mind?”

Luis stepped forward smoothly, adjusting his cufflinks. “I didn’t realize you’d be joining us, Billy. Anne said she wanted us…alone.”

Billy froze. Sparks flew in his head at Luis’ words. The tone. The insinuation. His jaw clenched. “She said that?”

Luis gave a slight shrug. “That’s what Yvette told me.”

Billy turned slowly toward Yvette, but her expression remained unreadable.

Something cold settled into his gut. He said nothing—just nodded curtly, and turned on his heel.

As he disappeared into the elevator, Yvette and Luis exchanged a knowing look.

Checkmate.

Back at the penthouse, Anne finally blew out the last candle and slid to the floor, arms wrapped around her knees, whispering to her unborn child.

“It’s okay,” she said softly, tears slipping down her cheeks. “He probably just got held up.”

But she didn’t believe it—not anymore.

And somewhere deep inside her, the picture-perfect lie she’d clung to began to crack.