I Wrote My Own Ending

At the dinner celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary, I held the pregnancy test report in my pocket, planning to surprise my CEO husband.

However, the moment the doors opened, I froze.

A stunning woman stood there with her arm intimately linked through my husband's. She clung to Charles Lawrence with the ease and confidence of someone who clearly belonged at his side, carrying herself like the lady of the house.

Neither Charles nor the guests found it strange. If anything, they seemed entertained.

Someone even joked,

"Mr. Lawrence and Ms. Cooper aren't just ideal partners at work. Their chemistry is something to admire as well. I've personally reserved the presidential suite at Jubilee City's finest resort for Mr. Lawrence tonight. You can be sure no one will disturb you."

Fiona blushed and slipped shyly into Charles's arms. He lowered his head and kissed her hard.

They fit together so naturally, so intimately, that the sight was unbearably glaring.

My thoughts flashed back to the night before, when Charles had pressed me into the bed. In that moment, I had caught sight of a strange message sent by someone named Fiona:

[Everyone in the company thinks we've slept together.]

Charles had explained that Fiona was only his assistant, a forty-year-old woman, and that the message was nothing more than a punishment from a lost game, a foolish dare.

That explanation had dissolved my suspicion and anger.

Then, I finally saw the truth. I was the one who had lost everything.

Inside my pocket, the pregnancy report was crushed into a tight ball. I forced the tears back, stepped away, and opened the invitation from the National Aerospace Research Institute on my phone.

Without hesitation, I tapped Accept.

Three days later, I would vanish completely from Charles's world.

Five years into our marriage, Charles Lawrence was a force to be reckoned with in the outside world. At home, he was the epitome of kindness and thoughtfulness, never pressuring me into anything I did not want to do.

However, when I showed up at the party, pregnancy test report in hand, ready to drop a happy bombshell on him, I was the one who got the shock of a lifetime: he had already trashed our vows.

Well, if that was how it was going to be, I was done for good.

From then on, I lived for myself, and only myself.

...

I pocketed my phone, my hands shaking so hard that I could barely grip it. I felt like I had been dunked in a tub of ice, frozen from the inside out.

There was Charles, not even trying to hide it, cozying up to Fiona Cooper for all to see. The crowd was eating it up, chanting Fiona's name, some even daring them to seal the show with a kiss.

The room was a roar of voices.

I stared at the man who had been all sweet whispers and cuddles with me just last night, then doting on another woman. It felt like my heart was being crushed under the weight of a truck.

I needed to get out of there, but the swarm of guests was like a wall, blocking my escape.

Charles scanned the room, eyes narrowing. "Let's keep the party rolling, but remember the golden rule: don't let any of this get back to Mrs. Lawrence.

"If Mrs. Lawrence blows a fuse, I get cranky, and trust me–nobody wants to see me cranky," he said with a smile that did not reach his eyes, his words dripping with an unspoken threat.

The crowd was quick to reassure him, "Mr. Lawrence, we've got your back. Our lips are sealed."

They were all too good at this game.

I could not help but snort at the irony. Five years of what I thought was a rock-solid marriage, my pride in our loyalty and love, all just a sham.

I felt like I was suffocating, the weight of betrayal heavy on my chest. I leaned against the wall, struggling to breathe, and just as Charles's gaze started to sweep my way, I pushed off the wall and slipped out of the banquet hall, my steps heavy but determined.

I have always been the kind of person who would rather curl up with a book than hit a party, so as I made my way there, it was no surprise that I flew under the radar. However, I could not help overhearing a few whispers about Charles and me. Some folks felt sorry for me, while others seemed green with envy that I was the one married to him.

Charles had been cool with me skipping out on the social whirlwind and even ran interference with the press for me. I used to think it was because he was super thoughtful and respected my space. I was patting myself on the back for snagging such a considerate guy. As it turned out, he was just clearing the field for his shady side hustles.

The betrayal had been brewing for who knew how long, and it had sunk deep, like a spreading rot.

Every sweet moment we shared then felt like a big fat lie. Just thinking about it made my stomach turn, and it was like those memories were laughing in my face, calling me naive and clueless.

I could not shake the question: was it all worth it?

Five years back, I went against my mentor, Tracy Gilbert, and my parents. I stayed put in Jubilee City, ditched a sweet gig at the aerospace research institute, and married Charles. I was all in on helping him build up the Lawrence family biz.

What did I get in return? I was the last to know I was the fool in the room.

If I had not stumbled on the truth today, how much longer would Charles have kept up the charade?

Was he planning on fooling me for life? That thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I nearly dropped my phone.

In a scramble, I hit the answer button, and Tracy's voice came through, sounding pretty pumped.

"Sienna, did you really say 'yes' to the invite?" she asked.

I bit my lip. "Yeah, Ms. Gilbert, I did. Just half an hour ago, I told the National Aerospace Research Institute I'm in. However, I made it clear I've got one condition: they've got to keep my identity under wraps, top secret style."

Tracy paused, her voice heavy with concern. "Sienna, it's great you're diving back into your work, but let's be real: saying 'yes' to this gig means you're all in on the satellite project, top-secret stuff. It's like you'll vanish off the face of the earth. Only a handful of folks will even know you're still around.

"After everything you gave up for Charles, is he cool with you just disappearing?"

I could not help but snort, a bitter edge to my laughter. "Ms. Gilbert, Charles lost the right to have a say in my choices after his betrayal."

"Well then, Sienna, welcome back to the fold."

I ended the call, and a weight was lifted off my shoulders. Clutching my phone, I shot a text back to Charles, who had been wondering where I had gotten to, [Feeling sick. Skipping the party.]

I pushed open the front door, and there was the butler, all smiles, telling me how he had stuffed my closet with the latest fashion, just like Charles wanted. The staff around the house shot me those 'you're so lucky' looks.

Once upon a time, I would have been swept off my feet by Charles's sweet gestures, ready to do anything for him.

After finding out the truth, though, it all just felt like a bad joke. I brushed past the butler with a half-hearted wave and headed upstairs.

Charles's call came through just as I reached my room. "The party's in full swing, and the star of the show is nowhere to be found. Sienna, you always have an excuse."

He let out a weary sigh. "Ah, well, what can I do? You're my girl. I'll handle the snooze-fest of a party for both of us."

For me? As if. He probably never expected me to show up. Playing the doting husband, huh?

I took a deep breath, fighting back the urge to snap at him. "I wish I could be there, but I'm really not up for it. Got a headache."

"Caught a chill, huh? See, you're a mess without me to look after you."

Charles's voice was urgent on the other end of the line. "I've still got a crowd to handle before I can head home. I'll tell the butler to call our doctor right away..."

"No need, I'm feeling better now."

I really was not in the mood to deal with a bunch of people, so I cut him off, "Took some meds. I'll just sleep it off."

There was a racket in the background as Charles told me not to wait up for him, then he rushed off the call.

He's probably eager to get back to Fiona, I thought, my grip tightening on the phone as a bitter laugh escaped me.

I flicked through the social media app to Fiona's profile, and there it was, a fresh post.

A selfie of the two of them, Fiona looking alluring and Charles, my very own husband, with his arms around her, his smile soft and adoring.

The caption hit me like a punch. [Today, you're all mine.]