He Stole My Love, Heart and My Future... But I'm Taking It Back.

Emily's POV

Five years married to Carlos Reyes and I still put fresh flowers on our breakfast table. Today's flowers are special, juliet red roses for our five-year mark. My hands shake a bit as I put the wrapped gift box next to his coffee cup. I'm still hoping, after all this time, that something might change between us.

"Happy anniversary," I say softly as Carlos walks into the kitchen, wearing is Brioni (Italy) black luxury suit, eyes stuck to his phone as always. The morning light shines on his expensive watch, Richard Mille RM 56-02 Sapphire, last year's gift from me, a watch he wears every day even though he seems to care less and less about me.

He barely looks at me, not even glancing at the juliet rose that cost me a lot of money. "Just put it somewhere. I'm busy." His words drop like stones in the quiet kitchen.

I push down my sad feelings, the familiar pain settling in my chest. This coldness has become normal, especially since Daniela and her son Mateo moved into our home two years ago. Carlos said she was his step-sister who had recently lost her husband. Since then, I've become like a stranger in my own house, the house my grandmother's money helped buy, just as my family's money had helped start Carlos's now-growing business.

"I made dinner plans at Amoroso's for tonight," I say, pouring his coffee the way he likes it, black with one sugar. The cup makes a small clink against the saucer, the sound echoing in the tense quiet. "Seven o'clock. Remember you promised we'd celebrate properly this year."

"Cancel them," Carlos cuts me off, scrolling through emails on his phone. "Daniela and I have dinner with the Rivera business people. It couldn't be helped, they're only in town tonight."

The coffee pot bangs against the stone counter as I put it down too hard. "On our anniversary? Carlos, we talked about this last week. You promised."

"Is there a problem?" Daniela glides into the kitchen, perfectly dressed in a Valentino red off-shoulder dress that showed off her still flat stomach. Her long dark hair falls in perfect waves, and her Christian Louboutin Beauty makeup is perfect despite the early hour. Her five-year-old son Mateo follows behind her, wearing that smirk I've grown to hate.

"Family business," I say stiffly, wiping spilled coffee from the counter.

"Actually," Daniela smiles, placing her well-kept hand on Carlos's shoulder with easy closeness, "anything about Carlos concerns me. As his main helper and family."

Mateo deliberately knocks my gift to the floor with a thud. "Oops," he says, pretending to be innocent.

"Mateo, pick that up," I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite the anger growing inside me.

He crosses his arms, defiant. "You can't tell me what to do. You're just the help around here."

I look to Carlos, waiting for him to correct his so-called nephew. "Are you going to say something?"

My husband sighs as if I'm the problem, putting down his phone with clear annoyance. "Emily, he's just a child. You're being too sensitive again. This is why we can never have a peaceful morning."

Daniela picks up the gift with a winning smile, her red nails standing out against the silver wrapping paper. "I'll take care of this, Carlos. We need to leave soon for that meeting with the design team before the investor dinner."

I notice she's wearing the Clive Christian perfume Carlos bought me for Christmas, an expensive French scent I've never used because it gave me headaches. How did she get it? The question burns in my throat, unasked, as I watch her place the gift in her Crystal Minaudières fancy handbag.

"I'll be late tonight," Carlos announces, not looking at me as he picks up his Ralph Lauren Alligator Briefcase. "Don't wait up."

"You haven't been home before midnight all week," I say quietly, folding my hands to stop them from shaking. "We still need to go over the final details for tomorrow's charity event. It's the biggest event of the year, Carlos."

Carlos waves his hand dismissively, checking his Richard Mille RM 56-02 Sapphire watch. "Just handle it. That's why I let you run the charity, isn't it? It makes me look good, and it keeps you busy."

His casual meanness stings, but I've learned to hide my pain. The Reyes Children's Foundation is my life's work, built from the ground up with my passion and hard work over the last four years. Yet in Carlos's eyes, it's merely a part of his business image, another tax write-off.

"The new children's hospital plans will be shown tomorrow," I remind him, trying to keep my voice professional. "The building designer, Alejandro Vega, needs you to approve the final budget before we can announce the building start date."

"Then approve it for me," he snaps, anger flashing in his dark eyes. "Do I have to do everything? Wasn't your college degree in something useful like business or design? Use it for once."

I feel something break inside me, a small crack in the wall holding back years of bad feelings. "I don't think my degree is what's failing here."

"What?" Carlos turns to me fully for the first time this morning.

"My degree works fine," I say quietly. "It's this marriage that doesn't."

That gets his attention. He grabs my arm, fingers digging into my skin, pulling me into the hallway away from Daniela's watching eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm tired, Carlos. Tired of being treated like I'm nothing in my own home. Tired of being put down and undermined all the time."

"Not this again," he hisses, lowering his voice. "Daniela lost her husband. Mateo needs a stable home. How many times must we go through this? You're acting like a jealous teenager instead of a grown woman."

"And what about what I need?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as I look into the eyes of the man I once loved deeply. "When did I become invisible to you?"

"You're being dramatic," Carlos says dismissively, checking his watch again. "This is exactly why I can't talk to you anymore. Everything becomes a big scene."

"Am I? Every time I try to talk to you about how they treat me, you shut me down. Every time I ask for even the smallest bit of care, you make me feel unreasonable."

Carlos's grip tightens on my arm, his wedding ring pressing into my flesh. "They're my family, Emily. Why can't you understand that?"

"And what am I?" I ask, the pain in my chest making it hard to breathe. "After everything I've given you, my family's money that started your business, my ideas that you claimed as your own, my hard work building your public image through the charity."

"Carlos!" Daniela calls from the front door, her voice sweet but demanding. "We're going to be late! The design team won't wait forever."

He immediately lets go of me, stepping back quickly. "We'll talk tonight."

"No, we won't," I say, rubbing my arm where red marks are already forming. "You'll come home drunk and crawl into bed, or sleep in the guest room again. Just like last week, and the week before."

His jaw tightens, that familiar muscle twitching in his cheek. "What do you want from me, Emily?"

What I want is the truth. I want him to admit that Daniela isn't his step-sister at all. I found a photo last week, hidden in his desk drawer, Carlos and Daniela at the beach, kissing passionately. The date on it showed it was taken two years before our marriage. And there are other clues: the way Mateo has Carlos's eyes, the way Daniela touches him, the late nights they spend "working."

But I say none of this. Not yet.

"I want respect," I say instead, straightening my shoulders. "If not love, then at least that."

"Emily-" He runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, a rare sign of frustration.

"Go," I say, turning away. "Your meeting is waiting. I wouldn't want to keep Daniela waiting any longer."

As they leave, I stand at the window watching Carlos help Daniela into his Mercedes-Maybach Exelero, his hand staying on her back in a way too close for a step-brother. Mateo jumps in behind them, sure of his place in Carlos's life. They drive away without looking back, leaving me alone in our big, empty house.

I should pack my bags. I should leave this house of lies and mind games. My friend Sofia has been telling me to go for months. "You deserve better," she keeps saying during our lunches, the one friendship Carlos hasn't managed to cut off.

But I can't leave. Not yet.

The money from my grandmother, enough to give me true freedom, is still tied up in legal matters, something Carlos knows nothing about. In three months, it will be free, and I'll have the money I need to walk away. Until then, I'm stuck, depending on the money Carlos gives me from accounts I no longer can access.

And there's more at stake than just money. The charity I've built over the last five years, the only thing that's truly mine, is legally tied to Carlos's business. Leaving now would mean abandoning the children who depend on our programs, the school money we provide, the new hospital we're building. I can't do that, not without a plan.

My phone buzzes with a text from Sofia: "Lunch today? Need to talk to you about tomorrow's charity event. Found some interesting info about the money reports."

I text back, thankful for her friendship and her skill with checking money records: "Yes. Noon at Café Mariana?"

Her reply comes right away: "Perfect. And don't forget, I'm bringing that building designer, Alejandro Vega. He has great ideas for the hospital wing. And he's not bad to look at either.

I roll my eyes at her obvious attempt at matchmaking, but for the first time today, I feel a small spark of hope breaking through the gloom. The charity is my safe place, the one place where Carlos's shadow doesn't completely darken my life. And maybe this meeting will give me the answers I need to finally understand what's happening with the charity's money.

As I go upstairs to get dressed for the day, I stop at the family picture hanging in the hallway, Carlos and me on our wedding day, both smiling. I was so young then, so blindly in love with the charming businessman who promised me the world. Five years later, all his promises are broken around us, and I'm left wondering if any of it was ever real.