Chapter 1— THE CAKE, THE LIE, AND THE DOOR

ARIANA’S POV

I don’t know why my hands were shaking.

Maybe it was excitement—or nerves. Four years. That’s how long Lucas and I had been married. Four years of building, loving, and forgiving. I had spent the last four months quietly planning a surprise he would never see coming. His favorite cake sat beside me on the passenger seat—a hazelnut praline with dark chocolate glaze and gold lettering: Happy 4th Anniversary, Love.

It was only part of the surprise. A sweet appetizer before the real celebration waiting at home—candles, our wedding photos, and a letter I had written and rewritten a dozen times. I poured my soul into that letter, trying to remember who we were when we first started.

Back then, he had nothing but dreams. I had everything—my father’s company, our family name, and a position in society he never could have reached on his own. But I gave him the keys to all of it because I believed in him. Because I loved him.

As I parked in front of Bennett Corp headquarters, I smiled. My father’s legacy stood tall. And Lucas—he had led it well. I wanted to remind him of what we had built together.

But the moment I stepped inside, something felt… off.

The receptionist looked up in surprise—almost guilt. She was young. New. She didn’t recognize me.

“Good afternoon,” I said warmly. “I’m here to see Lucas.”

“Um… do you have an appointment?” she asked, her voice uneven.

“I’m his wife,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.

Her eyes widened. “Mr. Marshall is in a meeting right now.”

“A meeting he didn’t tell his wife about?” I tilted my head. “On our anniversary?”

She looked away.

I didn’t have time for this.

Without another word, I walked past her desk and toward the elevator. I didn’t need permission—not in this building. I had given Lucas everything. The least I deserved was respect.

As the elevator rose to the executive floor, I clutched the cake box tighter, trying to calm the strange tension crawling up my spine. Don’t overthink it. It’s just nerves.

But the moment I stepped out, everything shattered.

“Will you sleep over at my place tonight?” a woman’s voice said, soft and sweet.

I froze.

“I can’t,” Lucas replied. “Have you forgotten what today is?”

My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

That voice—I knew it. Too well.

I walked slowly down the hall, each step heavier than the last. His office door was slightly open.

And then I saw them.

Lucas. And Vanessa.

My best friend. My college roommate. The woman who helped me pick my wedding dress. Her hands rested on his chest, her head tilted toward him like this wasn’t the first time—like it was routine.

Something inside me went cold.

The cake slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud.

Vanessa turned to me—not with guilt, not with shame—but with indifference.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked, my voice hollow.

She scoffed. “I think it’s time you tell her everything, Lucas.”

Then she walked past me, brushing my shoulder as if I were nothing more than a stranger.

“Lucas?” I whispered, staring at him. “Tell me what?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to meet my eyes. “Ariana…”

“What. Is. She. Talking. About?”

He finally looked up. And what I saw in his eyes shattered me.

“She’s pregnant.”

I blinked. Once. Twice.

“Pregnant?” I whispered.

He nodded. “Yes. She… she did what you couldn’t do for four years.”

My world stopped.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

“You think this is about a baby?” I said slowly, disbelief choking my voice. “Is that all this is to you?”

“She—”

“I gave you everything!” I snapped. “The company. My name. My father’s empire. You were nothing before me, Lucas! I made you somebody!”

He didn’t deny it. He just stood there. Silent.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I turned and stormed out, ignoring the crushed cake, the stunned receptionist, and the echo of my heart breaking. I walked out of the building like I was leaving a funeral.

Our funeral.

I didn’t know where I was going.

The road blurred. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. My eyes burned, but I refused to cry—not here, not for him.

Then nausea hit me like a wave.

I swerved to the side of the road, flung the door open, and barely made it to the grass before I threw up.

For a long moment, I stood there, gripping the car door, the wind whipping through my hair, my heart shattered and heavy.

Then a terrifying thought crossed my mind.

Wait… when was my last period?

I closed my eyes, counting backward.

No. It can’t be. Could I…?

I slowly sank into the driver’s seat, the thought spreading through me like fire.

Am I pregnant?