wedding. Alexander had always been private about his writing, claiming it held his deepest thoughts, too sacred for anyon

I never knew I needed. Each entry was a declaration of love, a promise of eternal devotion. He had written about my kindness, my intelligence, my "unyielding spirit." He had fill

ruel mockery now, hollow and meaningless. This man, who had written such tender sentiments, was the same man who had just used me as a convenient cover for his sordid affair, who had

knew. With a sudden, visceral surge of revulsion, I ripped out page after page, tearing his eloquent lies into confetti. Then, I walked to the firep

the journal had been hidden. A small, intricately carved wooden box. It had a delicate clasp, almost invisib

that sparkled with a mischievous glint. She was smiling, a radiant, uninhibited grin. She loo

ntic rhythm against my ribs. Her handwriting, looping and bold, covered the back

My wedding date.

. May 10th, 2012. The day Alexander Pugh had stood before me, looked into my eyes, and vowed to love a

ng back to the very beginning of our marriage. My entire relationship, our entire life together, was a sham. A caref

I had cherished – they were all built on quicksand. He hadn't just broken my heart; he had shattered my reality. I hated him. I hated his lies, his arr

ers numb. The screen lit up, showing my social media feed. And there it was. A post from Carson Gibson. A picture of her and Alexander,

various intimate settings with Carson. Alexander kissing her. Alexander holding her hand. Alexander, his arm wrapped around her, his face beaming as he looked at her swoll

ed me, Haylie. You were just the placeholder. And that 'medicine' he gave you? It wo

sychological assault, a systematic dismantling of my identity, my womanhood, my very purpose. He had poisoned me, gasligh

almness, I blocked Carson's number. The rage that had consumed me was replaced by a cold,

acophony in my head. I didn't sleep. I plotted. The grand birthday celebration Alexander had

and. "Haylie, darling, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to leave you alone last night. That office issue was truly

ofound emptiness. "I'm fine, Alexander," I said, my voice flat. "Just a little... overwh

e. "I've been thinking. I've neglected you. I've been so focused on work. But no more.

touched my li

eagerly. "

expansion. I need to make some executive decisions. Second, I want a complete overhaul of the security systems in the penthouse. Th

asily granted, a small price to pay for my apparent forgiveness. "Consider it done, darling! All of it.

e more thing. For my birthday celebration tonight. I want some

. "A surprise? What kind of

"Oh, just the kind of surprise that