Chapter 3

Two years ago, Alec started staying out all night, claiming he was busy with overseas expansion.

He said it was for our future. Back then, I was touched.

Now I understood.

He was busy building her brand. Busy making her dreams come true.

He had designed their secret affair into a jewelry line, packaging it as a top-tier luxury brand, letting the whole world applaud his mistress without even knowing it.

How absurd.

I sat there, the pain in my chest making it hard to breathe.

"What's wrong?" He stood up immediately, looking at me with tender concern. "Is your stomach hurting? I'll take you to the hospital right now."

Before I could answer, Angelina approached.

"Stop acting so fragile. So what if you took a bullet for him? men are grateful to their lifesavers, sure, but they don't love them forever. I'm the one he—"

I shoved my chair back, shaking with the urge to stand up and rip that smirk off her face.

A sharp crack cut me off.

Alec’s hand was still suspended in the air. Angelina had been knocked to the floor, a red handprint blooming rapidly across her cheek.

The private room fell into a deathly silence.

Alec adjusted his cuff, his tone terrifyingly flat.

"Get out."

She stood up, clutching her face. There was fire in her eyes, but she knew he wasn't joking.

After she left, the laughter around the table slowly returned. I sat there, freezing cold.

He took my hand. "Come on. I’m taking you out of here."

"I'm fine, really." I pulled my hand back. "I just need to use the restroom."

Angelina was at the mirror fixing her makeup. That side of her face was swollen so badly foundation couldn't cover it. But the madness in her eyes hadn't diminished one bit.

"You think you won?" She slammed her compact onto the sink, lowering her voice.

"That slap meant nothing. We have two children between us—that’s a blood tie you can’t cut. You? You’re just a heavy burden of gratitude he has to carry. If either of my sons has so much as a headache, he’ll be in my bed tonight. Want to bet?"

I ignored her and turned to leave.

None of this mattered anymore.

When I got back to the room, he was already waiting by the door. His face was pale.

He took my hand. "Something urgent came up. I'll be back as soon as I can. You eat properly."

I grabbed his sleeve. "You said you'd spend today with me. Stay."

Something flickered in his eyes. Guilt? Hesitation?

Then he kissed my forehead and said, "I'll be back tonight. I promise."

And just like that, he was gone too.

Thirty minutes later, my phone buzzed.

It was a video from Angelina.

I knew I shouldn't look. That way lay the abyss. But I pressed play like I was possessed. Just to kill whatever hope I had left.

The camera shook, then focused on Alec.

The background was a nursery filled with toys. The man who had just sworn to stay with me was now holding a baby, smiling like a doting father.

"Honey, I heard you bought Montrose Manor for Ella? I’m so jealous. How about we give that estate to our son as a christening gift?"

He frowned. "No. That’s for Ella and our children."

"Giving it to her is repaying a life debt," Angelina walked over, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Giving it to us shows the boys that you acknowledge them. Don't you want them to be acknowledged?"

"Besides, her IVF hasn't worked yet, has it? Let's talk about it when she actually gets pregnant, okay?"

He was silent for a few seconds. Then, he nodded.

Angelina leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. Alec didn't dodge.

"I had to slap you earlier," he murmured, stroking her cheek, his voice low. "It was for Ella's benefit. After all, that’s the status I want to give you—can’t have her making a scene. Don't be so impulsive next time, be good."

On screen, Angelina smiled the victor’s smile at the camera.

A caption followed the video: [See? Whatever is yours, if I want it, it’s mine.]

The phone felt like a block of ice in my hand.

I understood now. Everything he could do for me, he could do for her. Better. More carefully.

I was done.

Tomorrow, I would leave for good.

When he came back that night, I was already in bed, my back to the door.

He lay down and hugged me from behind. The familiar scent of cedarwood was mixed with the faint, unfamiliar smell of milk.

"Just a few hours apart and I felt like I was going crazy missing you," he whispered. "If you ever left me, I don't think I could survive."

"...Is that so?" I kept my eyes closed.

He kissed my shoulder, his hands wandering a little too freely. "By the way, that manor—I suddenly realized it isn't perfect enough. You deserve better. I looked at two new properties. You can pick one tomorrow."

How funny. He promised it to another woman for her son's christening, yet told me I "deserved better."

He thought if he just changed the cage, he could keep his obedient canary.

Dream on.

I smiled in the darkness. "Whatever."

He paused. He sensed something off in my tone.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No." I took a deep breath. "By the way, our anniversary is coming up. I need to go to the marina tomorrow to pick up your gift."

"The marina? I'll go with you."

"I want to go alone."

"Take the boat then. The Lady Volkov I gave you last year. It's more comfortable than driving."

I guessed he would say that.

The Lady Volkov. The yacht he built with his own hands, named after me.

I said okay.

Then let me die on the ship he built.

He made breakfast the next morning. Before leaving, I handed him an envelope.

"Anniversary gift," I said. "Open it the day after tomorrow."

Inside were two things.

My pregnancy report.

And a flash drive full of evidence regarding him and Angelina.

When he received the news of the ship's wreck, he would open it.

He would know that he personally killed me and his unborn child.

After he left, I packed my things and drove to the marina.

On the way, my phone buzzed.

A message from Angelina.

[St. Patrick’s Cathedral. 10 AM.]

I shouldn't have gone. I knew what I would see.

But I went anyway. One last time.

The front of the cathedral was lined with black sedans. I recognized everyone getting out. The elders of the Volkov family. His mother. The relatives who offered me fake smiles at family gatherings.

Hiding in a back corner, I saw Alec.

He stood before the altar, one hand resting on Angelina's waist.

The priest was reading the baptismal vows.

His mother held the baby, kissing its forehead. Then she turned to her, her voice loud enough for the whole church to hear.

"Angelina, you are the most important person to the Volkov family."

People around them laughed and nodded in agreement.

They all knew. Everyone but me.

Waiters passed with champagne, addressing her as "Mrs. Volkov."

He didn't correct them.

He just turned his head and smiled at her. The kind of smile I once thought belonged only to me for this lifetime.

"If it weren't for her, the Volkov family wouldn't have an heir by now. These two boys are the life of our family," his mother continued.

He nodded. "I know."

I stood there, and all the sounds faded into the distance.

Every vow he once made, every kiss, turned into the most vicious curse in that moment.

"Goodbye, Alexander Volkov," I recited silently in my heart. "See you in hell."

I turned and walked out. Before the heavy doors closed, I looked back one last time.

He was bowing his head, kissing the baby's forehead.

Forty minutes later, the Lady Volkov left the marina.

Two hours later, Alec was teasing the baby with a silver rattle when he received a call from the Coast Guard.

"Mr. Volkov. Your ship, the Lady Volkov, has lost signal near Bermuda."

Alec's hand, shaking the silver bell, froze in mid-air.

"Search and rescue operations are underway, but only debris has been found on site... No survivors have been located so far."

The silver rattle slipped from his hand and smashed heavily onto the floor.

The piercing sound instantly startled the baby in the cradle into tears.

It was his most beloved son crying, but it was as if he’d gone deaf.

"What... what did you say?"