“Happy anniversary,” I whispered to the woman in the mirror. The words tasted like dust. Outside, the city glittered, a thousand lights celebrating a thousand stories. Laughter spilled from rooftop bars. Couples leaned into each other under streetlamps. Somewhere, someone was being kissed like they mattered. But not here, not tonight and not for me. I adjusted the strap of my silk dress, the fabric cool against my skin. It was the color of midnight, elegant and expensive, just like everything else in this penthouse. My makeup was flawless. My hair was perfectly curled. I looked like a woman who had it all. And I did. I had the fame, fortune and adoration. Everything except the one thing I’d quietly, desperately wanted for the last 1,095 days. My husband, Damian Blackwood. The man whose last name I wore like a crown, even though he never treated me like a queen. I glanced at the clock on the marble mantelpiece, the time was 10:47 p.m. He's late again. I knew the signs. The empt
Last Updated : 2025-08-05 Read more