Betrayal to Redemption

I could still feel the stranger's—Griffin's—gentle touch on my elbow as Adrian's hand clamped down on my wrist, pulling me away from the ballroom crowd. His fingers dug into my skin as he dragged me down a deserted corridor, throwing open the door to a small conference room and practically shoving me inside.

"What the hell was that?" His voice was low, dangerous. Not the charming entrepreneur the world saw, but the man I'd come to know behind closed doors.

I rubbed my wrist where his grip had left red marks. "I could ask you the same thing."

Adrian's expression shifted, the fury receding behind a mask of concern so practiced I almost believed it. Almost. "Baby, you don't understand what's happening here."

"I understand perfectly." My voice sounded hollow even to my own ears. "You just kissed another woman and told everyone you're single."

"It's not what you think." He raked his fingers through his perfectly styled hair, his wedding ring conspicuously absent. "Naya is Raymond Greene's daughter."

I blinked, momentarily confused. "The investor?"

"Yes." Adrian's face brightened, sensing my hesitation. "Raymond has been threatening to pull his funding. He was worried about his daughter's career in the company, thought people might think she was getting special treatment because of his investment."

I shook my head, trying to follow his convoluted explanation. "So you're... pretending to date his daughter?"

"It's just for show." Adrian stepped closer, his cologne—different from what he used to wear—filling my senses. "Raymond demanded this little charade to ensure everyone sees Naya as valuable in her own right. Just until the IPO next month, then we can go public with our marriage."

"That makes no sense," I whispered, but doubt crept in. Three years of believing his excuses made it easy to consider this one too.

"It's business, Serenity." His voice softened as he cupped my face. "You know how these things work. Haven't I always taken care of you? Haven't I always come through in the end?"

Tears pricked at my eyes. "You told everyone you were single."

"I had to." His thumb brushed away a tear. "For us. For everything we've built."

He pulled me against his chest, and I let him, hating myself for the weakness. "Remember when your parents died? Who was there for you?"

The mention of my parents sent a stab of pain through my chest. I'd been at work when the call came about their accident. Adrian had convinced me to finish an important presentation instead of rushing to the hospital. By the time I arrived, they were gone. I never got to say goodbye.

"You're all I have left," he whispered into my hair, echoing my thoughts. "We're family. You and me. Just trust me a little longer."

I pulled away, studying his face for any sign of the man I'd fallen in love with. "One month?"

"One month," he promised, his relief palpable. "Then everyone will know you're Mrs. Henderson."

The words sounded hollow, but I nodded anyway. One last chance. One final month of lies.

I left the hotel alone, declining Adrian's offer of a ride—he had to stay with Naya, of course, for appearances. The rain started as I walked, a gentle patter that quickly became a torrential downpour. I didn't bother seeking shelter. My emerald dress clung to my body, makeup streaming down my face, hair plastered to my skull.

By the time I reached our townhouse—my townhouse, since Adrian officially lived elsewhere—I was shaking uncontrollably, teeth chattering, skin burning despite the cold. I collapsed into bed without changing, fever dreams haunting me through the night.

Three days passed in a haze of chills and delirium. I called Adrian's number repeatedly, fingers fumbling with the phone, throat raw as I begged for help. On the fourth attempt, someone finally answered.

"Adrian Henderson's phone," came a cool, feminine voice.

"I need to speak to my husband," I rasped.

Naya's laugh was soft, cruel. "Your husband? Oh, Serenity. Adrian is dealing with actual important matters right now. He doesn't have time for your dramatic attention-seeking."

"Please," I whispered, hating the desperation in my voice. "I'm sick. I just need—"

"What you need," Naya interrupted, "is to understand when you've been replaced. Stop calling this number."

The line went dead. I stared at my phone through fever-blurred vision, the truth finally, painfully clear.

I was alone. I had always been alone.