Chapter 1

Lena's POV 

I was pacing the marble floors of our penthouse, checking my watch for the tenth time in the last five minutes.

Where the hell is Xander? It’s past one in the morning. Past one.

My mind was racing, imagination running wild. Maybe he was stuck in traffic. Maybe the board meeting ran late. Maybe… no, I didn’t even want to go there.

I rubbed my temples and muttered under my breath. “Where the fuck are you, Xander?”

The faint click of the front door made me whip around. My heart raced. Finally.

“Where the fuck have you been, Xander?” I barked, striding toward him.

He sighed, dropping his briefcase by the door. “Lena, I’m sorry I’m late, okay? I was busy.”

“Busy with what?” My voice rose, sharp as glass.

“Work…” he muttered, avoiding my gaze.

“Fuck you, Xander, and work!” I yelled. “You’re always at work! Never at home! Never busy here!”

He ran a hand through his hair, tired. “You know how hectic my job can be, Lena.”

“And you’re not working?” I shot back, my eyes blazing. “You’re cheating. That’s exactly what you’re doing, Xander.”

“What? No! Lena, I’m not cheating on you,” he said, his voice defensive now.

I laughed bitterly, tears threatening to fall. “Oh, really? Then why was the marriage counselor left waiting? Why was our anniversary forgotten? Why are you always late for everything that matters?”

He didn’t answer. His silence spoke volumes, and I could see it in his eyes—he knew I was hitting too close to the truth.

“But you know who you’re never late for?” I asked, my voice trembling, almost soft now, a taunt wrapped in pain.

“Who? Who, Lena? Tell me!” he said, stepping closer, his frustration creeping in.

“Isabel. Your secretary. You’re never late for her,” I spat, the words sharp as knives.

He froze. Shock painted across his face. “What? Le… Le… Lena, there’s nothing between me and Isabel! She’s just… she’s just my worker.”

I threw up my hands, laughing and crying all at once. “I’m tired, Xander. I’m tired of you coming late, missing important things, treating me like I don’t exist. Look at me! I’m not pregnant. I don’t have a child. I’m not doing anything wrong! And I’m fucking tired!”

“I’m tired too,” he snapped, the anger and exhaustion in his voice matching mine. “I’m tired of working all day, all night, sacrificing everything for you, only to be accused! I give and give, and what do I get in return? Accusations and drama.”

I laughed again, tears rolling down my cheeks. “Then we both know what we want, don’t we?”

He nodded slowly, eyes dark, resigned.

“Then I guess this is it,” I said, my voice breaking but firm.

“It’s for the best,” he replied, almost whispering, his jaw tight.

I nodded, taking a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I’ll come back tomorrow for my things.”

He simply nodded.

Before I could step out, I turned back, fury burning through me. “Xander, look around you! You’re a multi-millionaire, maybe even a billionaire. Everything is in check. Missing one day of work as CEO shouldn’t be an issue. But we both know—you’re seeing someone else.”

He didn’t respond. Didn’t even blink.

I took a step closer, voice cold as ice. “I’ll see you in court, Alexander Knight.”

And I walked out, slamming the door behind me.

The cab ride down the empty streets was quiet except for the hum of the engine. My hands shook, my chest heaving. I was free… but not really. My heart ached with betrayal, and anger coursed through me like fire.

I thought about all the years wasted, the lies, the nights waiting for him to come home, the anniversaries forgotten, the stolen moments that never were. And now, as the city lights blurred past, I realized something terrifying.

I deserved so much better than Xander Knight. So much better than this hollow, suffocating life.

And I wasn’t going to wait for him to realize it.

I’d sleep tonight in a hotel, away from the memories of our home, away from the man who had promised everything and delivered nothing.

But as I lay on the stiff hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, I knew one thing for sure. Xander Knight would not let this go quietly. And I wasn’t sure I was ready for what he’d do next.

I don’t know when I started crying. Maybe I had been crying all along and only noticed when my chest began to ache.

Every fucking thing… I loved Xander. I loved him so much. And that was the reason I stayed. That was always the reason.

I stayed when the late nights became normal.

I stayed when the apologies sounded rehearsed.

I stayed when I learned how to sleep alone in a king-sized bed.

Love made me patient. Love made me foolish. Love made me quiet when I should have screamed.

I wrapped my arms around myself as the night air hit my skin. I needed fresh air. Needed space. Needed to breathe without feeling like my lungs were collapsing under years of disappointment.

I walked outside and sat on a cold concrete block near the entrance of the building. The city lights glowed softly in the distance, cars passing, people living their lives like nothing had shattered tonight.

I stared into space.

Just stared.

My marriage was ending. Ending just like that. With the man I once loved more than myself. With the man I defended to friends, to family, to strangers who hinted that something wasn’t right.

And there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.

That realization hurt more than the argument. More than the accusations. More than the silence he gave me at the end.

Because deep down, I knew the truth.

Love didn’t die tonight.

It died slowly. Quietly. Over missed dinners and forgotten promises. Over nights I waited up just to hear his footsteps. Over mornings he kissed my cheek like it was an obligation.

It died the day I started begging for attention from my own husband.

I pressed my fingers against my eyes, breathing shakily. How did we get here? How did love turn into resentment? How did a marriage become a battlefield?

I remembered the early days. Xander’s laugh. His hands on my waist. The way he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world. Back then, he made time. Back then, work wasn’t an excuse.

Now, work was everything.

And I was just… an afterthought.

A sob tore out of my chest, and I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. I felt stupid for hoping he’d run after me. Stupid for imagining he’d call my name, tell me to stay, tell me we could fix this.

But he didn’t.

Because Alexander Knight never begged. Never chased. Never looked back.

And maybe that was the final proof I needed.