Chapter 5

Elena POV

Regarding the cleared walls, Ethan only asked the next day if I was still upset.

Coming home from work, he brought the pastries I used to love, sat down beside me, cut them into neat little squares, and pushed the plate toward me.

He smiled. "Stop torturing yourself. I have a surprise prepared for you at the gala. You'll understand then."

"What surprise?" I looked up at him.

"I can't tell you yet." He squeezed my hand. "Just dress up nicely, stay close by my side, and you'll have everything. I'm sorry for making you endure so much over the years."

That last sentence sounded remarkably sincere.

I nodded, agreeing quietly, just as I had for the past eight years, never causing him an ounce of trouble.

When he slipped into bed that night, I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep.

He turned toward me, watching me for a while, before gently pulling the light throw blanket from the foot of the bed up to my shoulders, his touch so light he seemed terrified of waking me.

After tucking me in, he sat on the edge of the bed for a moment before quietly stepping out into the hallway.

I opened my eyes in the dark, listening to his hushed voice through the door, keeping my breathing slow and steady.

He whispered, "Yeah, I'm heading over now. Is Naya asleep? Don't stress, I'm driving over to get you. I already sorted out the dress and jewelry for the gala."

Whatever the woman replied, it drew a low laugh from him.

He added, "If Naya asks, tell her Daddy will be right there with her, standing next to her mommy."

I pulled the blanket up a fraction, hiding half my face.

The surprise he promised me during the day and the person he rushed out to pick up at night were the exact same thing.

He told me to dress up and sit obediently by his side, yet that very spot belonged to me by day and to another woman by night.

He shut the front door softly behind him, barely making a sound.

I waited until his car engine faded into the distance before getting up, slipping into my clothes in the dark, heading downstairs, and calling another cab to follow him.

Seeing a pale, sickly woman walking out alone in the middle of the night, the driver checked his mirror twice, but kept quiet.

I wanted to see what kind of family gala this really was.

The car didn't head toward his usual apartment. It drove straight toward the outskirts of town, stopping before the historic Miller estate where the banquet was being hosted.

My taxi idled in the shadows beneath the trees across the street.

Right under the courtyard lights, I immediately spotted Chloe’s car, its headlights still gleaming.

Sitting in the cab, my heart sank inch by inch.

His mother, his sister, the entire Miller family—they had all gathered behind those doors, happily preparing for the celebration.

All these years, I thought that no matter how little affection they held for me, I was still Mrs. Miller.

What he hid from me wasn't just a woman. It was a whole house full of people conspiring together to keep me in the dark, keeping the secret so airtight that not a whisper ever reached me.

I used to hope that someone in that family would eventually speak up for me.

Tonight, I gave up that hope. Not a single soul in that house would ever say a word on my behalf.

The invitations for tomorrow night had already been sent out, and my name was listed among the guests.

He had even reminded me today not to overexert myself, never mentioning that a seat in the main hall was already reserved for another woman.

Sitting in the shadows, looking at the brightly lit doors, I whispered softly, "I'll be there."

The driver didn't catch it and asked if I wanted to head back.

"No," I said. "Just stay here a little longer."

I needed to see it all with my own eyes. Only after seeing it could I walk away completely, otherwise, on some future night, I might wonder if I had simply misunderstood him.

Pulling out my phone, I looked at his message from earlier—*I'm sorry for making you endure so much over the years*—one last time, and deleted it.

Then I slipped the phone back into my pocket, never taking it out again.