The seventh time Sophia Sterling went in for intimate rejuvenation surgery, the doctor frowned. But if she didn’t do that, Adrian he won’t want to sex with her. “Miss, even for commercial wear and tear, you shouldn’t put your body through this.” She gripped the sheet, humiliation burning her cheeks. “My husband likes it.” The truth was, her marriage to Adrian Sterling had once read like a perfect campus romance. She was a housekeeper’s daughter. They met when she was ten. She fell for him at eighteen. On the night she came of age, she gave him everything. At twenty-four, Adrian threw her a fairy-tale wedding. Five years of marriage followed, and every one of them burned white-hot. They had christened his private helicopter, the beach house in the Hamptons, the rooftop of Sterling Tower — everywhere they went, they left traces of each other behind. Thousands of condoms over the years. Then came their seventh anniversary. Sophia wore something sheer. She tried to seduce him—nine times, from dusk to dawn. He stroked her sweat-damp back and said gently, “Let’s stop, Sophia. I’m tired.” The shame was instant, suffocating. She scoured the internet for solutions — toys, supplements, every trick in the book — but nothing sparked even a flicker of interest in his eyes. Except one thing: the surgery. Only after her intimate rejuvenation did Adrian show any interest again. After the seventh procedure, she came home still burning between her legs. He pushed her down onto the bed, and when his breathing grew ragged and his body tensed above hers, he whispered a name. “Bella.” Her blood turned to ice. It wasn’t her name. So it wasn’t that Adrian couldn’t perform. He simply had no interest in her anymore. A dull, throbbing ache spread through her chest. She stared up at the man moving above her, and tears rolled silently down her temples. One hot drop landed on his arm. He froze, as if startled awake, and cupped her face in both hands, pressing gentle kisses across her cheeks. “My love, why are you crying? Does something hurt?” He gazed at her with such focus that his dark eyes held nothing but her reflection. If she hadn’t heard the other woman’s name, she might never have doubted him. “Who is Bella?” The words came out before she could stop them. Adrian paused, then laughed. “You’re jealous? She’s just my secretary. If you don’t believe me, check my phone.” There were no secrets between them. There never had been. She typed his birthday. The top contact was “Wifey 💖.” She scrolled down. Found Bella’s chat. Mostly work. The only personal messages were Adrian asking Bella for gift advice for Sophia. But a woman’s instinct snagged on something else. 【Is Your wife still mad? The plane tickets to Hawaii are booked.】 【All women love jewelry. Don’t forget a gift for anniversary — I’ve already picked out a few options and left them in your office.】 【Still not in the mood for your wife? Maybe a change of scenery will bring back the spark.】 Her thumb froze. Her thumb hovered over the screen as a chill crawled through her body despite the summer heat. Adrian was fiercely territorial — about his personal space, about his inner world. Yet he discussed the most intimate details of their marriage with Bella. That crossed every boundary. The shower stopped. Adrian stepped out in a cloud of steam, water still trailing down the hard lines of his stomach before disappearing beneath the towel slung low around his hips. Someone had once warned Sophia, “Your husband is so handsome and successful. Women will throw themselves at him. You have to watch him.” She hadn’t worried then. She had watched it happen firsthand: a business rival had once sent a naked woman to Adrian’s hotel suite. The moment the door opened, his expression turned to ice. He shoved the woman out without a word, scrubbed himself raw with disinfectant ten times over, and drove home that same night. He knelt at Sophia’s feet. “My love, another woman touched me. I’m dirty. You won’t leave me, will you?” A man like that could never cheat. His phone buzzed on the nightstand. **Bella White** flashed across the screen. Adrian didn’t flinch. He answered in front of her. Then gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry, honey. The company needs me.” He dressed quickly and left. Thunder cracked outside. Sophia flinched and curled into herself beneath the sheets, making herself as small as possible. Adrian knew she was terrified of storms, but he didn’t come back. At midnight, her phone jolted her awake. She answered groggily. Adrian’s voice was breathless on the other end. “Sterling Group, 28th floor. The executive office.” She opened her mouth to ask if he needed documents. He cut her off. “Condoms. Ten minutes.” Her mind went blank. She drove through the rain. When she reached his office, the door was open a crack. Adrian—who went limp at the sight of her—had his secretary pinned beneath him. “Didn’t the wife satisfy you? You’re insatiable tonight.” Bella’s voice was breathy, teasing. “Any woman gets boring after ten years. Even one you love.” “Then why don’t you divorce her?” Adrian lit a cigarette. Smoke blurred his features. “She was my entire youth. I’ll love Sophia forever. I’m just not interested in her anymore.” The pain didn’t hit all at once. It seeped in slowly, numbing everything — her fingertips, her chest, the part of her brain that still wanted to scream. Sophia released the door handle without making a sound. Adrian, if you don’t love me, then let me go. She, Sophia Sterling, had always known how to walk away.
Sophia drifted through the rain like a ghost. She didn’t even remember leaving the Sterling tower. She left her car in the garage and walked all the way back to the mansion. The cold rain soaked through her thin clothes, seeping into her bones. She had never set foot in Adrian’s study. Not once. But tonight she pushed the door open. The first drawer she pulled held a torn pair of black stockings. Stained with something she didn’t want to name. Those weren’t hers. Every night Adrian claimed he had work, he was here. Pleasuring himself with his secretary’s stockings. Bile climbed her throat. She doubled over, dry-heaving onto the polished mahogany. Underneath the stockings, she found the divorce papers. Adrian had already signed them. Before the wedding, he had knelt before her. “If I ever betray you, you will leave me forever. I will die alone.” Her fingertip traced the dark stroke of his name. A dull, splintering pain bloomed behind her ribs. A flood of memories washed over her. When she was mocked as the housekeeper’s daughter, Adrian shielded her. “Who dares bully her?” When someone confessed to her, he announced to the world, “Sophia is my future wife.” When she felt she wasn’t good enough, he proposed five times. Five rings worth a fortune. She still kept them safe. By the time she came back to herself, her face was wet. Stroke by careful stroke, she signed her name beside his. Ten years of love. And in the end, Adrian had betrayed her anyway. A tear fell on the paper. She saw him again—the first time he proposed. When his mother had ordered Sophia out of the Sterling household, had thrown himself into the lake and threatened to drown unless they let her stay. After the staff had pulled him out, blue-lipped and shivering, he had pressed a ring into her palm and proposed for the first time. *Sophia, you are the only choice I will ever make. Forever.* The diamond had been just as bright then as it was now. Only the heart that had given it had changed. Sophia walked out to the manor’s private lake. She pulled the ring off her finger and let it fall into the dark water. It sank without a sound. Like their love had been swallowed, beyond any hope of rescue. She stood in the night wind until dawn broke. She collapsed in the foyer of the mansion. The maid screamed. Everyone knew Sophia was Adrian’s whole world. She fumbled for the phone and called him at once. The call connected, then dropped. She tried again. And again. Nine calls in a row before someone finally picked up. It was not Adrian’s voice on the other end. It was a woman’s moan. The maid froze, the phone shaking in her hand, and turned slowly toward Sophia. Sophia had woken at some point. She did not know when. She lay on the marble floor with her chest squeezed in a fist of pain, every breath a knife. She let out a soft, broken laugh. “He won’t come. Call an ambulance.” Her fever spiked. Seizures. The paramedics rushed her to the ER. Through the haze, she saw Adrian carrying a woman—Bella. He was lowering her onto a gurney with terrible, tender care. A doctor said, “Mr. Sterling, your friend just has a small tear from… enthusiasm. She’ll be fine.” But Adrian still panicked. “Call every specialist. Operate now.” “Sir, there’s only one OR left. Another patient is critical—” *“She can wait.”* His voice was ice. Sophia’s gurney was pushed against the corridor wall. A fire burned inside her—but it burned away every last ember of their youth. Of her love. Her belly cramped, sharp and wrong. A nurse gasped. “Blood! So much blood! This patient is miscarrying!” Adrian glanced over. He saw nothing but half a face, drained of all color. The nurse begged. *“Mr. Sterling, this patient won’t make it. Could we—”* “My friend is my love, she is badly hurt. As for the other… she was just unlucky.” Each word drove a knife into Sophia’s heart. In Adrian’s eyes, she meant nothing. She blacked out. When she woke, her abdomen still ached. A nurse looked at her with pity. *“I’m sorry, miss. Ten minutes earlier, and we could have saved your baby…”* The child she had waited ten years for. Dead. Killed by its own father. *Adrian,* she thought. *I wonder how you’ll feel when you find out.* She pressed her palm to her flat belly. *I’m sorry, little one. If there’s no love, better you never came.* Her tears had all run dry. Her voice was sandpaper. *“Can I see him?”* The four‑month fetus was tiny. No fingers or toes yet. Sophia took the body to the crematorium herself. The small urn fit in her arms. Afterward, she did two things. She filed for divorce at the courthouse. And she bought a plane ticket. One month away. She would leave Adrian. Forever.
Sophia carried the small urn back to the Sterling mansion. When she walked through the door, she saw them in the living room. Adrian—a man who scrubbed himself with disinfectant if another woman so much as touched him—knelt before Bella. He was putting stockings on her feet. Carefully. Like she was something precious. The air in the room reeked of intimacy. Then Bella saw Sophia at the door. She didn’t flinch. She smiled—just a flicker—before schooling her face into something innocent. “Mrs. Sterling.” Adrian went still. He stood and walked quickly to Sophia. “The maid said you weren’t feeling well this morning. I had something urgent. Are you all right now?” The concern in his eyes did not look fake. Those dark pupils held nothing but her reflection, as though she were the only thing in his world. “What were you busy with?” Sophia’s voice was dry. A flicker of something crossed his face. Not quite guilt. Closer to annoyance. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sterling,” Bella cut in. “I was hurt. Mr. Sterling cares about his employees — he took me to the hospital himself. That’s why he couldn’t make it home.” She tilted her calf forward. Beneath the dark stocking, faint bruising bloomed across her skin — the unmistakable shape of a man’s fingers, gripping hard. “I hope you don’t mind, Mrs. Sterling.” “Sophia isn’t petty like that.” Adrian slid an arm around Sophia’s waist. “Right, My love?” His hand brushed the bag tucked against her side and met something hard. He frowned. “What’s in there?” “It’s your—” His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and the apology was already on his lips before she had finished speaking. “Sorry, honey. There’s an emergency at the office.” He shot Bella a quick look, then walked out. Bella rose smoothly to her feet. She lifted her phone, screen tilted just enough for Sophia to see the conversation thread with Adrian still open. A photo of her in bunny lingerie. She sent him a photograph — herself in a barely-there bunny costume — and a single line of text. *Sir, are you in the mood for a little bunny tonight?* Then she walked toward Sophia. “I feel sorry for you. Holding onto old memories while men always crave something fresh.” She stepped closer. “Tell me, Mrs. Sterling. Who matters more to him? You… or me?” Her heels clicked away across the marble floor. Sophia walked to the window and stood there. In the driveway below, Adrian’s Maybach sat with its engine running, the chassis swaying in a slow, unmistakable rhythm. It went on for nearly an hour before the car finally pulled away from the estate. Her heart was too numb to hurt anymore. She remembered the second time Adrian proposed. A terrible accident. A massive pileup had torn through midtown New York. Adrian had thrown himself over her body, shielding her with his back. A length of rebar had punched clean through his shoulder. He hadn’t seemed to feel it. He had simply reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a ring, and held it up to her with blood on his teeth. “Sophia, I will be as brave as this every day for the rest of my life. I will protect you forever. Will you marry me?” “No,” she answered now, ten years later. “Adrian. I will not marry you.” She drove out to the cliffside highway alone. She stood at the guardrail and dropped the second proposal ring over the edge. It bounced once on the asphalt, rolled, and disappeared into the brush below. *Adrian. The life I owed you — I just gave it back.* The wind came up from the valley, and for an instant it sounded like a seventeen-year-old boy whispering *I love you*. Sophia stood at the top of the cliff. Her phone rang again and again. Until the battery died and the screen went black. Two hours later, Adrian found her. Two hours later, Adrian appeared at the top of the road — disheveled, breathing hard, his shirt damp through. “Sophia. My love. Why didn’t you answer? Do you know I almost went insane? You are my life.” Once, she had been kidnapped. The trauma never left him. He couldn’t bear to lose contact with her for even ten minutes. “I tore this whole damn city apart looking for you. Thank God I found you.” He was trembling. She watched him and felt nothing but disgust. How could a man love her with his whole heart while sleeping with someone else? “Let’s go home, baby.” He drove her down the mountain himself, his right hand never leaving hers. “Your hands are so cold. You know you can’t be out in the wind like this. How about I make you soup when we get home?” Back at the mansion, the man who never cooked for anyone put on an apron. He made her soup. She watched his back from the doorway and felt nothing. Then she turned and looked around the mansion. Their love was everywhere—their photos, the little ceramic figures he had brought her back from Provence, the first love letter he had ever written her, framed and hung in the hall. Once, every one of these things had been precious. Now they hurt to look at. She pulled them down, one by one, and dropped them into a black trash bag. Frames cracked. Glass splintered. She did not stop. The maids stared with worry written across her face. But Adrian didn’t notice. He was looking at his phone while he stirred the pot. When he came out with the soup, he blinked. “Did you throw something out? The room looks empty.” “Just a few things that didn’t matter.” “A lot of those pieces were getting old anyway,” he said easily. “Good time to refresh.” He never realized that the *old things* he was speaking of were the entirety of what they had been.
Thunder jolted Sophia awake. Adrian’s side of the bed was empty. She had always been terrified of storms. Adrian used to stay with her every time. Even if he was thousands of miles away on business, he would fly home overnight just to hold her, then leave again before dawn. But tonight there was only the rumble outside, and a thin, ghostlike sound bleeding through the wall — a woman’s stifled whimper, the soft, rhythmic creak of furniture against the floor. She forced herself out of bed and pushed open the door of the guest room across the hall. Two figures tangled together. Bella’s moans were cut short by a hand over her mouth. Adrian’s low voice: “Don’t wake my wife.” Outside, lightning split the sky. Bella flinched. “Easy,” Adrian murmured. “I’ve got you.” The same gentleness. The same patient hands. Just aimed at someone else now. Sophia walked back to her own bed and lay down. Tears slid into her hair as the thunder rolled. She stared at the ceiling until the storm passed and the gray of dawn began to seep through the curtains. She did not close her eyes once. — At dawn, the kitchen came alive. Adrian stood at the stove in an apron, smiling. “Everyone else is already at work, lazy girl. You just woke up?” Only then did Sophia notice the figure at the dining table. Bella sat behind a laptop, fingers tapping efficiently at the keys. “Good morning, Mrs. Sterling,” Bella said. “I’m here to coordinate work with Mr. Sterling.” Sophia did not want this woman anywhere near them today. Not on the day she planned to bury her child. “Get her out of my house,” she said quietly. Bella’s eyes welled up at once. For the first time in their marriage, Adrian did not take Sophia’s side. He frowned. “Sophia, Bella is here for work. She actually contributes. You stay at home all day. Can’t you be reasonable?” So that was what he truly thought of her. He softened immediately. “I’m sorry. Forget it. Didn’t you say you had somewhere you wanted to go today? Let’s not waste the morning.” — The GPS led them to Greenhill Cemetery. Bella followed in five‑inch heels. They climbed the stone steps. Bella’s eyes flickered with malice. She reached out, grabbed Sophia’s arm, and yanked backward. “Ah!” “Look out!” Adrian’s hand shot past Sophia. He caught Bella instead. Sophia lost her balance. She tumbled down the stone steps, clutching the urn in her bag. Her body scraped against rock. Bruises bloomed everywhere. “Sophia!” Adrian’s face went white. “I’m sorry—Bella was closer to me, so I—” “Help me up,” Sophia ground out. *“Mr. Sterling,”* Bella feigned panic. *“The car has a first‑aid kit. We should tend to Mrs. Sterling’s wounds. She might get infected.”* Adrian could not seem to look Sophia in the eye. He turned and hurried back down the path toward the car, leaving the two women alone on the empty stone steps. Bella stood over her like a victor. “Everyone says Mr. Sterling adores his wife.” Her voice was light, conversational. “Apparently not as much as they think.” She tugged her collar to one side. The skin along her throat and collarbone was littered with bruises and bite marks — fresh, deliberate, unmistakable. “He told me he’s bored of you. Can’t get excited looking at your body anymore. It must hurt, lying alone every night.” Sophia grabbed a tree trunk and pulled herself up. Her voice was flat. “You like my trash so much? Take it. But if he loves you so much, why won’t he divorce me?” Bella’s face twisted. She lunged. Sophia instinctively shielded the urn. Bella noticed. She grabbed the bag and threw it down the hillside. *Crack.* The urn split in two. “No!” Sophia’s heart tore apart. She slapped Bella across the face. Bella’s mouth curved. She dropped to her knees, sobbing. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sterling. I didn’t mean to dirty your bag. Please don’t beat me to death.” “Sophia!” Adrian’s voice thundered. “What are you doing?” He had never used that tone with her before. “It’s just a bag. Is a bag more important than a person?” Bella crawled toward the broken pieces. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sterling — please, hit me, do whatever you want, just don’t fire me, my family needs me, let me clean it for you—” “Stop.” Adrian’s voice was cold. He picked up the bag and held it over the cliff. “Sophia. When did you become this cruel? Apologize to Bella.” “No!”Sophia couldn’t breathe. “Adrian! Do you know what’s in that bag? It’s your—” “I don’t care. Apologize.” He let the bag slip a fraction. Only the strap hung from his fingers. “I’m sorry!” Sophia’s nails dug into her palms. “I’m sorry!” She bowed ninety degrees to Bella. Then her knees hit the stone. She pressed her forehead to the ground. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Blood dripped from her forehead. “Is that enough? Adrian. Is that enough?” Her voice cracked. Each word came out like something bleeding. Even Adrian softened. He pressed his lips together, he opened his mouth— Bella staggered. She began to fall. “Careful!” Adrian caught her. The bag slipped from his hand. It tumbled down the cliff. Sophia did not move. “Adrian,” she said softly. “You’re going to regret this.” He didn’t hear. He was already carrying Bella down the hill. Sophia pulled the third engagement ring from her pocket. She turned it in her palm and ran her thumb along the inside of the band, where the engraving caught the light. *Forever, my Sophia.* A broken laugh escaped her. She drew her arm back and let the ring fly. “Adrian,” she whispered to the empty wind. “You are going to regret this.” She pushed herself to her feet. Her ankle screamed. She started limping, step by step, down the mountain alone. Then she heard footsteps. Several men rushed at her. One kicked the back of her knee. She crashed to the ground. A crack—her kneecap. Pain blinded her. “What do you want?” Her voice shook.
“I am Mrs. Sterling. If you touch me, Adrian will—” A laugh. A hand slammed across her face. *Slap.* Her ears rang. The man’s mouth moved, but the words came slow. “Guess who sent us?” He grabbed her chin. Forced her to look up. “Someone wants you to pay ten times over.” Slap after slap. Tears mixed with blood. The cuts on her face burned. But the bruises on her heart hurt worse. Then she fell into a complete coma. The man’s cold voice floated through. “The boss said—next time you do something stupid, offend the wrong person—it won’t be this easy.” She seemed to dreame of Adrian. Young Adrian holding her hand. “You’re so pretty. Will you be my wife when you grow up?” Teenage Adrian, fierce and possessive. “You’re mine. Only mine. Even our graves will be side by side.” Then grown Adrian—still handsome, still powerful. But his eyes held no love. “Ten years with the same body. I need something fresh. I still love you. I’m just bored.” Pain ripped her back to consciousness—in a hospital. Adrian sat by her bed. He looked very tired. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t protect you. I’ve been here three days. If you hadn’t woken up, I would have lost my mind.” She didn’t look at him. She reached for her phone. “I’m calling the police. Three days ago, I was—” He snatched the phone and hung up. “They’re… Bella’s cousins. They heard she was bullied and took matters into their own hands. I’ve punished them.” “How?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I sent them back to their hometown.” — The hospital room door cracked open. Bella’s tear‑streaked face peeked through. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sterling. If I hadn’t made you misunderstand, none of this would have happened. Please forgive me.” Sophia turned her face to the wall. She didn’t want to see that mask. Adrian’s voice was cold. “If you’re going to apologize, do it properly. Go kneel at the hospital entrance. You can stand up when my wife decides to forgive you.” Bella’s lips trembled. She looked at Adrian. He didn’t even glance her way. She walked out. She knelt on the pavement. She knelt at the hospital entrance from morning until the sky turned black. Adrian stayed by Sophia’s side the whole time. He changed her bandages. He wiped her body. He fed her. Every gesture was impossibly tender. It would have been perfect, if not for the way his gaze kept drifting toward the window — down, to the figure kneeling in the courtyard below. “I’m tired,” Sophia said. She pulled the blanket up and turned her back to him. “Rest well,” he said. He sounded relieved. The door opened and closed. Then, from the room next door, came the muffled sound of a woman’s whimper, followed by the rhythmic creak of a hospital bed. It went on until well past midnight. When the sky began to lighten, Adrian pushed open the door to Sophia’s room. Their eyes met. He startled. Then he smiled—soft, warm. “Sorry, Sophia. The company is going to be very busy for a while. I won’t be able to take care of you like I should. When this mess settles, I’ll take you around the world. Just the two of us.” The fresh mark on his neck was blinding. Sophia looked away. “”Sure.” — The days that followed were exactly as he said. He rarely came to the hospital. He did not visit. He did not call. On the day Sophia was discharged, he was not there. Sophia sat in the back of the Maybach. The driver hesitated. “Mr. Sterling has been very busy lately. He asked me to come get you. He—” Her phone buzzed. An invitation. A wedding. *Groom: Adrian Sterling* *Bride: Bella White* The photo showed them standing together. Smiling at the camera. Like lovers. So this was the “busy” Adrian had spoken of. He had been busy planning a wedding — with another woman — while his marriage to Sophia still legally existed. A moment later, the invitation was retracted. Bella sent a sticker — a cartoon face sticking out its tongue — followed by a message. “Sorry, Mrs. Sterling. Wrong person. You didn’t see that, did you?” Sophia stared at the screen until it went dark. She blinked her dry eyes. Then she gave the driver a new address. — The car stopped in front of the most extravagant hotel in New York. A sea of red roses spilled out from the lobby, cascading down the entrance steps — lavish, romantic, obscene. The guest list was small. Only Adrian’s closest friends had been invited. When they saw Sophia, their faces went rigid. “Sophia? What are you doing here?” She did not answer. She walked inside and stood at the back of the room, watching as Adrian knelt before Bella and recited his vows with the kind of sincerity that could break a woman’s heart. When it came time to exchange rings, Adrian opened the velvet box. It was empty. Bella swayed on her feet. She lifted her tear-filled eyes to Sophia. “Mrs. Sterling, he only did this out of pity. It’s a wedding in name only — I’ll leave him forever once it’s over. Please, could you just return the ring to me?” Adrian’s body went stiff. “Sophia. Let me explain.” Sophia took a step back. “Don’t come near me. You disgust me.” Her voice was steady and clear. “Adrian. Let’s get a divorce.” She turned and walked away, and the last thread of whatever she had once felt for him snapped clean. “Never! I will never divorce you!” Adrian abandoned the ceremony and chased after her. “Adrian!” Behind him, Bella let out a piercing wail. Then came the heavy, dull thud of a body hitting the floor. Adrian’s steps faltered. He turned and saw Bella lying in a pool of blood. “Bella!” She lay cradled in his arms, her voice fading to a whisper. “I never wanted a title. I just wanted one wedding — one beautiful illusion to carry with me for the rest of my lonely life. That’s all I ever asked for.” Her breathing grew thin. Adrian’s fingers were shaking. He looked back toward the door where Sophia had vanished, then down at the woman bleeding in his arms. “Sophia.” His voice cracked. “The ring. Give me the ring.” Sophia stared at him in disbelief. “You don’t believe me?” “Give it to me!”
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