LOGINEve, a loyal homemaker and mother, is blindsided when her billionaire husband Gabriel’s affair with his secretary Emily is exposed. Broken and betrayed, Eve files for divorce. Gabriel, arrogant and emotionally distant, strings Emily along with promises of a future he hasn’t committed to. Just days before finalizing the divorce, Gabriel is involved in a helicopter crash that causes partial memory loss. He forgets everything from the past three years—including the affair. He wakes believing he’s still married to Eve. Emily is told to stay away for his psychological safety, but bitterness festers. She watches as Gabriel grows closer to Eve again—unknowingly betraying her all over again. Eve is furious, but intrigued. This version of Gabriel is nothing like the man who betrayed her. As feelings begin to stir, Emily begins to fight harder, manipulating the truth to take back what she believes was promised. Only one woman will reclaim him. Only one will walk away healed.
View MoreThe morning started like any other.
The sky outside was dull and grey, matching my mood as I emptied the dryer, folding clothes in neat, practised movements. I lined the sleeves of Gabriel’s dress shirts just right and creased the slacks the way he liked them. Routine made things feel safe. Predictable. Manageable.
I stacked his folded laundry on the counter, humming softly, trying not to think about how little he’d been home lately.
"Business trip," he always said. "Late meetings.
"The excuses were old, but I accepted them. Not because I believed them. But because it was easier than confrontation.
I reached for his navy wool coat—one I hadn’t seen before. Italian, expensive, heavier than it looked. I searched the pockets before putting it in the dry-cleaning pile.
Lint.
A pen.
And—
My hands wrapped around something unexpected. Cold. Rectangular.
A phone.
Not his.
Not his phone.
My stomach dropped.
I turned it over in my palm. Small. Burnt edges. No case. Cheap. Discreet. The kind you buy to hide something.
My fingers moved on autopilot as I pressed the power button. The screen lit up.
No password.
Just a string of notifications.
One from an app I didn’t recognise.
Another from “Emily”. Attached to her name was a kissing emoji.
My hands trembled.
I tapped the first message.“Can’t stop thinking about last night.”
The next:
“You left your tie here, G. It smells like you.”
Then a photo.
Legs. Red sheets. Nothing else.
My husband’s tie draped on a woman’s thigh.
My heart twisted.
For a long moment, I didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.
My hands, normally so steady, shook as I scrolled through messages, photos, and voice notes. All from the same woman.
All within the past few weeks.
All during the nights Gabriel claimed to be “in meetings”.
I stood up too fast. The phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the tile floor. I stared down at it, as if it had just confirmed something my heart already suspected.
Gabriel was cheating.
The image of his perfect smile, his crisp suits, his cold kisses—all of it cracked like glass in my mind.
The truth wasn’t subtle. It didn’t whisper. It screamed.
My ears rang.
I picked up the phone again and kept scrolling. Severe morning sickness. My stomach churned, but my eyes kept searching, like I wanted to hurt more. Like I needed to feel it.
There was a video.
I didn’t open it.
I didn’t have to.
I deleted nothing. Instead, I walked to the kitchen, dropped the phone into a Ziploc bag, and tucked it into the back of the freezer behind frozen peas.
I would need it later.
Gabriel came home that night around 11 p.m.
I was seated in the living room, in my robe, the TV playing some muted documentary I wasn’t watching.
He stepped inside like nothing was wrong.
Suit jacket over his arm, hair perfectly in place, face unreadable.
He looked at me once—and walked past toward the stairs.
“Where have you been?” I asked.
No emotion in my voice. Just quiet. Too quiet.
He paused halfway up the steps.
“Late meeting,” he said over his shoulder.
“You’ve had a lot of those lately.
”He turned. “That’s how the business works, Eve.
”I stood slowly, my hands clasped in front of me. “Do you know someone named Emily?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw.
He didn’t answer.
“Because she knows you,” I continued, voice low. “Intimately.”
“Don’t start this tonight,” Gabriel said, descending the stairs one step at a time. “I’m tired. I don’t want drama.
”I tilted my head. “Are you sleeping with her?”
He stopped at the bottom step.
Silence.
Long. Heavy. Final.
“Yes.”
I flinched like he’d slapped me.
But I didn’t cry.
I nodded once, as if checking something off a list in my head.
“How long?”
“Does it matter?” he asked coolly.
“No,” I replied. “Not anymore.
”His voice was flat. “Then don’t make this harder than it needs to be. We can handle this like adults.”
“Like adults,” I repeated. “You mean quietly? Like you’ve already planned my silence?”
Gabriel didn’t answer.
I laughed. Just once. Short. Bitter.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
“Eventually.”
“I gave you everything.” My voice cracked, but only once.
“And I gave you a life most women only dream about,” he snapped.
I took a step forward. “You gave me loneliness and lies.”
“I gave you freedom from struggling.”
“No, you gave me a cage and called it a castle.”
They stood facing each other in the quiet of their luxurious home—two strangers bound by a dying marriage.
I turned away.
“Go sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight,” I said.
“You’re being irrational.
”I looked over my shoulder, my eyes colder than he’d ever seen.
“No, Gabriel. I’m being very, very clear.”
The next morning, I called a lawyer.
My hands didn’t shake anymore.
My voice was steady.
“I want a divorce,” I said. “Today.”
Later that day, I stood outside the glass doors of the law firm with my paperwork in hand.
I took a breath. This was the beginning of something, though I didn’t know what. Just that it wasn’t him anymore.
As I moved to step inside, a voice rang out behind me.
“Pretty suit,” a woman said casually.
I turned.
I didn’t recognise her at first. Tall, red lips, long waves of brunette hair.
The woman smiled, holding a cup of iced coffee. “Gabriel always had good taste.”
I blinked.
Emily.
I didn’t have to guess.
“I thought he’d keep you longer,” Emily added, sipping her coffee. “But I guess even diamonds crack under pressure.
”I stared at her, stunned, my heartbeat thunderous.
Emily winked.
“I’m sure this will be quick. You were always… the simple one.”
Then I turned and walked away.
I stood there, trembling.
Not from fear.
From fury.
The kind of fury that changed people.
The door clicked shut behind me and Sebastian.Silence spilt into the apartment — a strange, heavy quiet that pressed into every corner. Gabriel didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at the black screen of his phone, its reflection fractured across the glass table.Emily watched him carefully, her posture soft but deliberate — the perfect balance between concern and control.“She’s good,” she said finally, her voice a whisper. “I’ll give her that.”Gabriel didn’t look up. “What did you do, Emily?”Her lashes lowered. “I’m protecting what’s mine.”“What did you do?” His tone sharpened, brittle as glass.She tilted her head, studying him — the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand twitched against the table. “You think I faked that? That I have time to… what, hire an editor, stage a film crew?” Her voice cracked slightly, perfectly timed. “You really think I’d go that far?”He didn’t answer. The silence said enough.Emily took a slow step closer, her heels silent on the polishe
“Eve?”Gabriel’s voice echoed down the dim corridor — hoarse, disoriented, trembling.He looked ghostly under the flickering fluorescent lights, his once-impeccable suit wrinkled, collar undone, and eyes glassy with confusion. The folder in his hand hung loose, pages threatening to spill.“Gabriel?” I whispered, stepping closer.Sebastian’s hand shot out, lightly catching my wrist. “Careful,” he murmured.My pulse thundered. Behind Gabriel, a shape stirred — the faint rustle of silk, the deliberate sound of heels against concrete.Then Emily stepped forward.She was radiant in that cold, sharp way — every hair in place, lipstick perfect, eyes alive with triumph.The smile she wore wasn’t kind. It was a conquest.“Looks like everyone decided to crash the same party,” she said, her tone dripping with mock delight. “How cosy.”My stomach twisted. “What are you doing here?”Emily tilted her head. “Me? Oh, just tying up loose ends. Gabriel and I had some things to discuss.”Gabriel blinked
For a moment, Gabriel couldn’t breathe.Her words hung there — soft, poisonous — echoing in his mind long after the sound died.You told me once that she’d never forgive you if she knew what you did before the crash.He stared at Emily, searching her face for a lie. But her expression was unreadable — too calm, too sure.“What did I tell you?” His voice came out low and rough, like gravel.She tilted her head, lashes lowering. “You don’t remember, do you?”“Don’t play games with me.”“I’m not.” She took a step closer, her voice gentler now, almost pitying. “You were drunk. Angry. The night it happened. You said things… things I shouldn’t repeat. About Eve. About what you’d done to her.”He felt it — a flash. Not a memory, not exactly, but something close.A scream.A door slamming.Rain against glass.Then it was gone, slipping through his mind like smoke.“What did I do?” he asked, barely recognising his own voice.Emily smiled — slow, sad, perfect. “Maybe it’s better if you don’t re
The first ping came at 6:42 a.m.Then another.And another.By the time I reached for my phone, the sound had become a storm — messages lighting the screen faster than I could blink. My stomach knotted even before I looked.Then I saw the headline.Billionaire’s Wife in a Secret Affair? Exclusive Photos Raise Questions About Eve Grayson’s Marriage.My thumb froze over the glass.Beneath the headline were three photos — grainy but clear enough to kill me.My hand on Sebastian’s arm.Their faces close in the shadows.The two of us stood by the car as though we had something to hide.The caption beneath was worse than the images themselves:Sources close to the family confirm tensions within the Grayson household following the CEO’s memory loss and recent paternity scandal.My lungs refused to work. For a moment I didn’t even move. The screen dimmed, darkened, and reflected my own pale face back at me.“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no…”I dropped the phone on the counter, grabbed it again,
“Eve?”Gabriel’s voice was closer now—rough, heavy with sleep, but edged with suspicion.I froze by the doorway, my hand still resting against the back door. The house felt too quiet. Too exposed.“I—” My throat tightened. “I couldn’t sleep.”Gabriel descended the stairs slowly, one hand on the railing, the other buried in his pocket. His white T-shirt clung to his shoulders, his eyes catching the faint glow of the kitchen light.“You couldn’t sleep,” he repeated, his tone calm but flat—too calm. “So you decided to go outside?”I forced a shaky smile. “I needed air. That’s all.”He studied me, eyes sweeping from my robe to my bare feet to the faint tremor in my hand. “Air.” His gaze lingered on the door behind me. “At two in the morning.”My pulse thundered. He wasn’t yelling. That was worse. Gabriel only got quiet when he was angry.Or suspicious.I stepped forward, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’re overreacting. I just needed to think. About everything.”He didn’t move. Didn’t
The moment the door clicked shut, I sagged against it, pressing my forehead to the cool wood. My heartbeat refused to slow.I stared at the message again, its words pulsing like a heartbeat of their own.You did the right thing. Trust me. Don’t tell him yet.My thumb hovered above the reply box. Who are you? What do you want? But before I could type, the screen dimmed.I sat on the edge of the bed, fingers tangling in the blanket. The night outside seemed heavier now, thick with unseen eyes.Downstairs, I could hear Gabriel sweeping up glass. The rhythmic scrape of the broom against the tiles was oddly grounding—so normal it almost made me doubt myself.Almost.But that sound at the door. That shadow. The messages. Those weren’t my imagination.I opened my phone again, this time swiping to the number. No name. No contact photo. The number wasn’t even local—an unregistered line masked through some kind of encryption app.My stomach dropped.This wasn’t Emily’s style. Emily would want m






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