The Invisible Wife's Billionaire Revenge

The elevator ride felt eternal, a vacuum of silence where Catherine's heartbeat was the only sound. Thump. Thump. Thump.

When the doors finally slid open on the Executive Floor, the air was different. Cooler. Filtered. It smelled of money and ozone.

The reception desk was empty. Catherine walked down the long corridor toward the CEO's office. The walls were glass—Sebastian liked transparency in business, ironically enough.

She heard laughter before she saw them.

It was a deep, genuine sound. A sound she hadn't heard from Sebastian in years. It stopped her in her tracks.

She approached the glass wall. The blinds were partially drawn, but there was a gap.

Sebastian was sitting on the edge of his massive mahogany desk, his legs extended, ankles crossed. He looked relaxed, his tie undone, a smile on his face that reached his eyes.

Standing between his legs was Serena.

She wasn't touching him inappropriately, technically. She was adjusting his collar, her hands smoothing the fabric of his shirt. But the intimacy of the pose was undeniable. It was the body language of lovers. They were a closed circuit, a magnetic field that excluded the rest of the world.

Serena said something, and Sebastian threw his head back and laughed again.

Catherine felt like she had been punched in the gut. She held the basket of scones so tight the wicker creaked.

She shouldn't go in. She should turn around and leave.

But the anger—hot and sudden—overrode her dignity. She walked to the heavy glass door and knocked. Sharp. Three times.

The laughter cut off instantly.

Sebastian jumped off the desk, his face hardening into that familiar mask of annoyance. Serena turned slowly, a smile plastering itself onto her face.

"Catherine!" Serena exclaimed, her voice sugary sweet. "What a surprise!"

Catherine pushed the door open and walked in. The scent of the scones—vanilla and butter—wafted into the sterile room, clashing with the smell of Serena's perfume.

"I brought lunch," Catherine said, her voice remarkably steady. She set the basket down on the conference table.

"Oh, how domestic," Serena said, walking over. She was wearing a white sheath dress that looked suspiciously bridal. "I love pastries. Did you buy them from that bakery on 5th?"

"I made them," Catherine corrected.

"You bake?" Serena looked at Sebastian, eyebrows raised. "I didn't know you had a... homemaker side, Catherine."

Serena reached for the basket, lifting her right hand to peel back the linen cloth.

The light from the window caught her wrist.

Catherine stopped breathing.

There, dangling from Serena's delicate wrist, was a gold bracelet. Paved with diamonds.

It was a Cartier Love Bracelet. Identical to the one Sebastian had given Catherine that morning.

Catherine stared at it. Her vision tunneled. The room seemed to tilt.

Serena noticed Catherine's gaze. She lifted her wrist, admiring the jewelry.

"Isn't it gorgeous?" Serena cooed. "Sebastian gave it to me this morning. A 'Welcome Aboard' gift for the new VP."

She turned to Sebastian, grinning playfully. "He got a bulk discount, didn't he, Seb? Two for the price of one?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sebastian looked uncomfortable. He shifted his weight, adjusting his cuffs. He didn't deny it. He didn't say, "No, Catherine's was special." He just looked annoyed that Serena had made the joke.

Catherine felt the humiliation burn through her veins like acid.

It wasn't just a gift. It was inventory. He had ordered them like office supplies. One for the wife, one for the mistress. Mass-produced affection.

The scones in the basket suddenly seemed pathetic. A desperate, homemade attempt to win affection from a man who bought his love in bulk.

"They're stale," Catherine said abruptly.

"What?" Serena asked, hand hovering over a scone.

"The scones. They're stale. Don't eat them."

Catherine grabbed the basket. She walked to the metal trash bin next to the door and dropped it in.

Thud.

The sound was final.

"Catherine, don't be dramatic," Sebastian snapped, his patience snapping. "Serena was just joking."

"I'm not being dramatic," Catherine said, turning to face them. Her eyes were dry, but burning. "I'm just taking out the trash."

She didn't look at Sebastian. She couldn't. If she looked at him, she might scream, and she didn't have the energy to scream.

She walked out of the office.

"Catherine!" Sebastian called after her.

She didn't stop. She hit the elevator button repeatedly, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

I am fading, she thought, pressing her hand against the cold metal doors. I am broken, and he bought me a discount bracelet.

The doors opened, and she stepped inside, sliding down to the floor as soon as they closed. She hugged her knees to her chest, hyperventilating, alone in the descending box.