bCHAPTER /bb003 /b

OLIVIA’S POV

Adrian didn’te home that night and I wasn’tfortable since I knew he left with HER. I waited in bed, staring at the clock as hours passed. Midnight approached and still, there was no sign of him.

Was he spending the night with her? Was Adrian really cheating on me?

My chest felt hollow, the silence of the house taunting me. Sleep refused toe, so I sat up, hugging my knees, wondering if I’d ever truly mattered to him.

The next morning, I decided I couldn’t wait around in the house for him anymore. I needed to see him, to talk to him, to get to know who Dora was to him even if it meant facing his anger or indifference.

I didn’t care anymore.

I told myself this was my right as his wife, even if he seemed to forget that fact.

I arrived at his office, my heart pounding as I approached the desk of his secretary, a chubby woman named Rita. She looked up from herputer, her expression neutral.

“Good morning, Mrs. Westwoodi,” /ishe greeted politely, though her tone was quite different.

“I need to see Adrian,” I said, my voice calm despite the storm building inside me.

Rita hesitated, her fingers ced on her keyboard. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but Mr. Westwood has given strict instructions not to be disturbed.”

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I could feel the humiliation crawling up my spine. She knew I was his wife, yet she still denied me entry.

This is the humiliation I constantly have to endure ever since I married Adrian.

“Please,” I said, lowering my voice. “It’s important.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m afraid I can’t, ma’am. Mr. Westwood doesn’t want to see anyone right now.”

Before I could respond, the door to Adrian’s office swung open. My breathing stopped for a moment as I saw him step out, his deepugh filling the hallway.

He wasn’t alone.

Walking beside him was Dora, her heels clicking confidently against the marble floor.

What was she doing here?

Adrian’s expression was the same as hers – light, carefree, so unlike the cold mask he

wore around me.

I remain rooted to my spot, unsure whether to stay or walk away. They were lost in conversationb, /btheir voices low but filled with warmth. I wondered if they saw me or

were pretending not to have.

When they reached the lobby, Adrian turned to Dora with a smile. “I’ll see youter,” he said, his tone easy and familiar like how he talked to me before our marriage.

Dora leaned closer, brushing a hand against his arm. “Don’t forget about our ns.”

What ns?

He nodded, his smile unwavering.

As she walked off, her eyes darted to me for a brief moment, her lips curving into a knowing smirk before she disappeared into the elevator.

My hands clenched into fists, my knuckles turning white. Adrian turned to head back into his office, but I stepped forward, blocking his path.

“Adrian,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He stopped, his gaze cold as it settled on me.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone devoid of any emotion.

“I came to talk,” I replied, fighting the anger in my voice. “Why didn’t iyou /ie…”

“Not nowi,/ii” /ihe cut me off, signaling to Rita with his hand. “Make sure ino /ione disturbs

me.”

Rita stepped forward, her presence creating a distance between us.

“But…” I started, only for him to turn and walk back into his office, the door clicking

shut behind him.

The humiliation burned like fire in my chest. I didn’t argue further. I couldn’t keep on embarrassing myself there was no point. I made my way to the car garage.

My marriage was supposed to be my shield, my safe ce, but here, it was nothing more than a badge of shame.

In the dimly lit garage, I spotted Dora standing by her car, her posture rxed as she waited. When our eyes met, her smirk returned, sharper this time.

“You look upset,” she said, her tone dripping with mock concern. “Rough day?”

I ignored her, walking ito /imy car, but she stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“You know, Olivia,” she began, her voice sweet butced with venom, “you really shouldn’t cling to a man who clearly doesn’t want you. It’s… sad and pathetic.”

I told myself to calm down, I refused to let her see my pain. “Is there something you want?” I asked, keeping my tone as steady as I could.

Sheughed, a sound that made my chest tighten. “I just thought I’d give you some girly advice.”

I clenched my fists, biting back the urge tosh out. “Are you done?” I asked, but didn’t wait for her response..

As I opened my car door, her parting words reached me. “You’re fighting a losing battle, Olivia. You should know when to quit.”

I drove home in silence, her words settling over me like a dark cloud.

That night, Adrian didn’te home early which had be a routine ever since he came back from his supposed business trip.

And I knew it was because of Dora.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I found myself walking toward the one ce Adrian had forbidden me to enter his study.

—

I had a strong feeling that I might find something there that would reveal more about Dora and her rtionship with Adrian.

I hesitated in front of the door, my pulse racing, but Dora’s smug smile shed in my mind and I found myself breaking the rules I hadn’t broken in three years.

While going through his drawers, I stumbled upon an old, slightly worn–out photograph that made my heartbeat slow and froze me in ce.

It was a picture of young Adrian, a pretty woman holding him iclose/i, whom I assumed to be his mother because of the resemnce and my parents, all smiling at the

camera.

Everything in me screamed confusion. Why were they together? How was this possible?

My parents never seemed to know Adrian when I first introduced him to them, and even Adrian never mentioned knowing my parents.

My head was filled with different questions, each one adding to the headache that was starting to build.

Why hadn’t Adrian mentioned knowing my parents? Was he hiding something from me? Or was there something my parents had kept from me?

I was snapped back to reality when I heard the door click open downstairs. My heart leaped, and I quickly shoved the photograph back into the drawer, my hands trembling as I hurried back to the bedroom.

Adrian walked in without a word, and the room was filled with the stench of alcohol. I stood awkwardly by the bed, unsure whether to speak or remain silent.

Without warning, he closed the distance between us, his hands gripped my waist.

I hated the way my heart leaped, I knew I should have pushed him, yelled at him, or better still pped him but I found myself yearning for more.

My heart thumped faster as he kissed me, his movements hungry like a lion that had been starved for days.

“Adrian,” I whispered, but he silenced me, pulling me closer and undressing me.

I knew I shouldn’t enjoy it but I did.

That night, he touched me for the second time in three years.

I remembered the first time we were intimate a month ago he was drunk and tonight he was also drunk.

I knew what it meant but I deceived my mind into thinking that it was a hope that things might get better.

The next morning, Adrian acted as if nothing had happened. He stood by the dresser, buttoning his shirt while Iy in bed, watching him.

“Good morning,” I greeted, a blush creeping up my cheeks.

He didn’t respond, his focus was on his tie.

“Adrian,” I said softly, sitting up. “Aboutst night…”

He turned to me, his expression cold. “What about it?”

I hesitated, unsure how to interpret his tone. “I…I just thought…”

“Don’t overthink it,” he interrupted. “I sent some money to your ount. Consider it payment for your services.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. My lips parted, but no sound came out.

Without another nce, he grabbed his briefcase and left, leaving me sitting there in stunned silence.

Tears blurred my vision as I clutched the sheets, my heart bleeding.

Was this what I had be? A service to be paid for?