LOGINMorning light leaked weakly through the curtains, washing the bedroom in pale grey. I hadn’t slept. Not really. I had dozed for minutes at a time, jerking awake with Emily’s caption flashing in my head like a neon sign.
Family First.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Gabriel’s face in that photo — relaxed, smiling. A smile I hadn’t seen since before the betrayal. And Emily’s arm hooked through his like she belonged there.
By seven o’clock, I was dressed, my hair brushed into a sharp knot, and my blouse buttoned to the throat. No mascara. No lipstick. Not this morning.
I didn’t want to look pretty.
I wanted to look unshakeable.
When Gabriel came down the stairs, his tie loose and his eyes heavy with the dull fog of memory loss, I was waiting by the dining table. Coffee untouched, hands folded tightly in front of me.
“Morning,” he said softly, as though testing the air between them.
My eyes flicked up. “We need to talk.”
The pause in his step was almost imperceptible, but I caught it. He adjusted his tie, his gaze darting toward the door like he was calculating escape routes.
“What about?” His voice was careful. Too careful.
I slid my phone across the table. The screen was lit, open to the photo. Emily and Gabriel. The smile.
I didn’t say a word.
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed as he picked it up. He stared at the image for a long time. His jaw tightened.
“That’s not—” He stopped. Rubbed a hand across his face. “I don’t remember this.”
“You don’t have to,” I said evenly. “It’s real. And she’s the one posting it. Calling you her family.”
The silence in the room stretched, heavy and raw.
Gabriel set the phone down like it burnt him. He didn’t meet my eyes. “She’s lying.”
I leaned forward. My voice was low and sharp. “Lying? That smile on your face doesn’t look like a lie. That hand around her arm doesn’t look like a lie.”
His fists clenched at his sides. “I don’t remember her, Eve. That’s the truth I have. I only remember you.”
For a flicker of a second, my chest ached. The way he said it — raw, almost pleading. But I crushed the feeling as quickly as it came.
Because wanting to believe him was dangerous.
“Then why is she so confident?” I asked, my tone biting. “Why does she act like she’s the one who belongs here?”
Gabriel finally lifted his gaze. His eyes were dark and conflicted. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s trying to trick me. Or maybe she’s trying to destroy you.”
The words landed like a strike, but I didn’t flinch.
“Destroy me?” I echoed, my voice sharp with disbelief. “And you just stand there? You don’t demand answers from her? You don’t put a stop to this circus?”
His throat bobbed. “Because I don’t know what’s true anymore!” The frustration ripped out of him, louder than he intended. He braced his palms on the table, leaning forward, his face tight with conflict. “You want me to fight her —but how do I fight someone I can’t even remember?”
The anger in his tone stung, but what hit harder was the naked confusion behind it. He wasn’t just defending Emily. He was drowning.
I stared at him, my fury wrestling with something more dangerous — pity.
I forced my nails into my palm until the sting sharpened my resolve. “Then let me make this simple for you. Either you believe her, or you believe me. There is no middle ground.”
The air between us snapped taut, silence brimming with unspoken choices.
Gabriel’s lips parted, like he wanted to answer — but just then, his phone buzzed.
He glanced down. His face shifted. His thumb hovered.
My stomach knotted. “Who is it?”
He hesitated. Too long. Too guilty.
Then the phone buzzed again, lighting up the screen.
A name.
Emily.
Emily’s name pulsed on the glowing screen.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
My eyes locked on it like a predator tracking prey. I didn’t move, didn’t breathe. I wanted to see what he would do.
Gabriel’s thumb hovered, frozen. His jaw tightened, his throat working like he was swallowing glass.
The phone buzzed again. Louder, crueller this time.
Finally, he swiped.
“Hello?” His voice was low and cautious.
My chest burnt. He hadn’t hesitated when answering. That hurt worse than any shouted argument.
“Gabriel?” Emily’s voice spilt into the air, syrupy sweet, just loud enough for me to catch. “Thank God you picked up. I’ve been so worried about you.”
His free hand curled into a fist at his side. “Emily.” He said the name like it was foreign on his tongue, but he didn’t hang up.
I stepped closer, my voice sharp. “Put it on speaker.”
Gabriel looked at me, conflict raging in his eyes. For a second, I thought he might refuse. But then he pressed the button, setting the phone on the table between them.
Emily’s voice filled the room, smooth and practised. “I saw the comments, Gabriel. People are talking. They’re saying cruel things about you — about us.”
My blood went cold. Us.
Gabriel leaned on the table, head bowed, as though Emily’s words physically weighed him down. “Emily, I don’t remember you,” he said carefully, almost pleading. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
There was a pause on the other end. Then a soft, almost mocking laugh. “Of course you don’t. That’s the tragedy. But it doesn’t change the truth. We had something real. And you can’t erase me just because it’s inconvenient now.”
I slammed my palm against the table. “Stop lying!”
The sound cracked through the room like a whip. Gabriel flinched.
Emily’s sigh hissed through the speaker. “Eve. Always so dramatic. You can scream, but you can’t change facts. You think he doesn’t remember, but memories have a way of surfacing. Sooner or later, Gabriel will remember everything.”
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with implication.
Gabriel’s face was drained of colour. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t look at the phone. His gaze was fixed somewhere far away, as though the idea of remembering terrified him more than forgetting ever had.
My heart was hammering; I leaned over the phone, my voice low and venomous. “If you think you can worm your way back into this house, into this marriage, you’re wrong. He’s mine.”
Emily laughed again, soft and cruel. “We’ll see.”
And then the line went dead.
The phone lay between us, the silence afterward screaming louder than Emily’s voice ever could.
Gabriel finally lifted his gaze. His eyes were shadowed, uncertain.
“Eve…” His voice cracked. “What if she’s right?”
My stomach dropped.
“What if I did love her?”
The city blurred past the tinted car window, but Gabriel barely saw it. His temples throbbed, his jaw locked so tight it ached.He had left the house without slamming the door, without yelling, without breaking. That had to count for control. But inside, he wasn’t controlled. Inside, he was tearing apart.My words still rang in his head. “She’s lying. You know me.”But did he?The elevator doors opened into the Grayson Tower lobby, cool marble and glass gleaming under the morning lights. Conversations hummed, phones rang and heels clicked against stone. My kingdom. My empire. But for the first time, it felt… unstable.And then he saw her.Emily.She stood by the reception desk like she owned the place. A silk blouse, soft curls framing her face, a file folder tucked against her chest. When she looked up and saw him, her eyes softened instantly—rehearsed, perfect.“Gabriel,” she breathed, relief dripping from her tone.His gut twisted.“What are you doing here?” His voice came out shar
The kettle whistled.I barely heard it. My eyes were glued to the glow of my phone screen, my stomach knotting tighter with every passing second.At first, I thought it was a cruel coincidence. A gossip blog headline flashing across my feed:“Cold Wife? Sources Say Gabriel Grayson’s Spouse Neglects Family While Playing Homemaker.”My thumb scrolled lower, faster. Photos. Grainy, zoomed-in, but unmistakable—me at the grocery store, my face tight with exhaustion. Me at Lily’s school event, looking down at my phone during a speech.And then—my heart dropped—an audio clip.“…you never think, do you? Always so careless—”My voice. Cropped, harsh, jagged, twisted.The caption below screamed:“Exclusive: The REAL Eve Grayson. Cold. Heartless. Toxic.”I dropped the phone onto the counter like it was burning.The kettle screamed louder, steam hissing. My hands shook as I grabbed it and poured the boiling water too fast, scalding my fingers. I hissed, jerking back, water splashing onto the coun
Emily refreshed her feed for the twentieth time in ten minutes.The video had exploded. Comments poured in—sympathy, congratulations, and people calling her brave, radiant and an inspiration. Her smile curved sharper with every notification.#BabyGrayson was trending. Exactly as she planned.She sipped her wine, the glass catching the light, her reflection glowing back at her from the laptop screen. Let them all see. Let them all believe.Because that was the point—if the world believed her story, Gabriel would have no choice but to follow. What kind of man lets the mother of his unborn child suffer under another woman’s cruelty?She leaned back in her chair, stretching. Victory tasted sweet.Until the next notification blinked.Not a fan. Not a follower.A direct message.She frowned.The account was private. No name, no photo. Just one message.> Careful. Lies don’t last forever.Her heart skipped.Emily’s fingers tightened on the mouse. A prank. It had to be. Some jealous little no
I sat in the dim light of my kitchen; the only sound was the steady hum of the refrigerator.The folder Emily’s lawyer had left behind weeks ago lay on the table like a loaded weapon. It had sat there, unopened, daring me.I reached for it with trembling fingers. The embossed logo of the law firm glared up at me.My phone sat beside it, Sebastian’s name glowing on the screen.I pressed the call.It rang once. Twice. Then—“Eve?” His voice came low, alert, as if he’d been expecting this moment.“I need you,” I said, my throat tight.A pause, then the faint scrape of a chair on his end. I pictured him standing, straightening his tie, already moving. “What happened?”“She brought a lawyer to our door weeks ago.” My voice cracked under the memory. “She had papers—medical records, sonograms. Gabriel asked me to prove she’s lying.”Another pause. Sebastian’s inhale was sharp and deliberate. “Good.”“Good?”“That means he hasn’t chosen her,” Sebastian said evenly. “If he had, you’d already b
The café door slammed behind them, the tinkling bell jarring against the storm in my chest. The night air was sharp, cutting, but not sharp enough to clear the fog of rage clinging to me.Gabriel walked a few steps ahead, his stride clipped, shoulders stiff beneath his tailored jacket. He hadn’t touched Emily. Hadn’t spoken to her. But he hadn’t defended me either. Not once.“Gabriel.” My voice cracked like a whip.He stopped but didn’t turn.My heels clicked hard against the pavement as I closed the distance. “Why didn’t you say anything?”His jaw tightened. A muscle flicked. “Eve—”“No.” I moved in front of him, forcing him to look at me. My heart hammered, but my words came fast, unrestrained. She stood there in front of everyone and called me bitter, jealous, and hateful. She paraded her lies like gospel. And you—” my throat closed, hot with humiliation. “You just let her.”His eyes were dark, shadowed, and unreadable. “What did you want me to do? Cause a scene in the middle of a
The café was too bright, too loud. I had chosen the corner table, my back against the wall, but even that couldn’t shield me from the eyes.The women at the counter — wives of Gabriel’s colleagues, women I had once smiled at during charity galas — turned their heads together, whispering behind manicured hands. Their laughter wasn’t cruel on the surface, but the way their eyes flicked to me, then away, made my skin crawl.I stirred my coffee though I hadn’t tasted a sip. My phone lay face-down on the table, buzzing every few minutes with notifications. I didn’t have to look. I already knew what they were: the posts. The comments.Emily had made sure the world knew.#Blessed, one caption had read, beneath a sonogram picture. The kind of post designed to look innocent. Except the tag — #FamilyFirst #BabyGrayson — made my stomach twist.My friends had texted, cautious, pitying.Is it true? Do you need anything?Even my mother had called, voice tight with concern.“Eve?”I looked up, start







