Anastasia started laughing while she was still crying, like she couldn’t believe how lucky she was. Jordan leaned close to her ear and whispered.
“Since we’re legally husband and wife,” he murmured, “don’t you think we should actually act like it? We’ve been too restrained.”
She hit his chest lightly. “You’re shameless.”
He just laughed, scooped her up and carried her straight into the villa.
I was still sitting in my car.
It felt like something blunt was sawing through my chest. Not sharp enough to kill me quickly. Just slow and painful.
...
I drove home without remembering how I got there.
That night, when Jordan pushed the door open, he did what he always did. He spread his arms wide, that soft smile already on his face.
“Wife,” he said warmly, walking toward me, “did you wait long? You must be exhausted taking care of the baby all day. Come here, let me hug you.”
I stepped aside before he could touch me.
He paused for half a second, then smiled like nothing happened.
“I went to the county office today,” I said quietly. “About registering our daughter.”
His expression changed fast, but he covered it up just as fast.
“Oh, that?” He waved it off. “I’ll handle it another day. Don’t stress about that stuff.”
“I can do it,” I replied. “It’s not that complicated.”
His tone hardened for a split second. “I said I’ll take care of it!”
Then he saw my face and softened immediately. He reached for my hand.
“Genn, don’t misunderstand. The paperwork is messy these days. You just finished postpartum confinement. You shouldn’t be running around. Stay home and rest. Leave everything to me, okay? I don’t want you tired.”
So considerate. So caring.
I lowered my eyes and nodded.
I didn’t tell him that our daughter had already been registered under my name. I didn’t tell him I’d changed her last name.
And I definitely didn’t tell him that on my way home, I’d made another call.
To the one man Jordan hated the most.
I’d held my phone tightly and said, very calmly, “I’m still legally single. If you’re still willing… marry me in seven days.”
There was a long silence on the other end before he answered yes.
Back in the living room, Jordan let out a small sigh and leaned against me like he was the one who’d been wronged.
“It’s been weeks since you finished your confinement,” he said softly. “We haven’t had time for ourselves. Tonight maybe we could…”
My stomach twisted.
Before I could respond, my phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and something flickered in his eyes. Guilt? Panic?
He turned his back to me to answer.
After he hung up, his voice was rushed. “Honey, there’s an emergency at the company. I have to go now. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, okay?”
He kissed my forehead quickly and grabbed his coat.
I followed him in my own car.
His car didn’t head toward the company.
It stopped in front of that same secluded villa.
A few minutes later, Anastasia walked out. She swayed her hips like she knew she’d won. She slid into the passenger seat.
Then the car started rocking.
I stared at it, numb.
With shaking hands, I opened the listening app on my phone. I’d installed it months ago because I was worried about his safety during business events. I wanted to make sure no one plotted against him.
How ironic.
Now it was helping me hear my husband cheat.
Her voice came first, soft and fake sweet. “Good thing I told you I had a stomachache. If I didn’t lie, you’d have stayed home pretending to be the perfect husband tonight.”
He laughed breathlessly. “You should rest more. Don’t overthink. Genn doesn’t suspect anything.”
There was a pause, then he added, almost casually, “After she gave birth, her body changed so much. Her stomach’s covered in stretch marks. I can’t even look at it without feeling turned off.”
I stopped breathing.
That body had carried his child.
Anastasia gasped softly. “Then don’t go back tonight. Stay with me. Let her sleep alone for once.”
He didn’t answer with words. The sounds that followed were enough.
A few minutes later, the car door opened. He lifted her again and carried her inside like she was something precious.
…
The next morning, I was lying there, pretending to wake up when Jordan came in. His hair was damp like he’d just stepped out of the shower.
“Genn, come on, get up. I’ve got something planned for you today,” he said, “There’s a fair with some antiques you used to like. I thought… you’d enjoy it.”
He leaned down and kissed my forehead, the same gentle gesture I’d believed was love. I hesitated, staring at him, and then got up.
...
At the fair, Anastasia appeared, dripping in red from head to toe, that ridiculous slit in her dress making everyone stare.
“Mr. Sinclair, your coat.”
Jordan froze, then turned to her like she’d just thrown dirt on him. “What are you doing here? I didn’t invite you, and you know better than this.”
She tilted her head at me, trying to look wronged. “But someone has to make sure you’re comfortable, right?”
People around us started whispering immediately. Everyone knew he doted on me. Our wedding had been grand, a spectacle the city still talked about.
Jordan’s grip on my waist tightened, and his eyes went cold. “Anastasia, enough. This is not your place. Go back to the office.”
She hesitated, biting her lip, then ran off, sniffing and wiping her eyes.
Jordan turned back to me, trying to act calm. He kissed my forehead again and helped me sit. But I could feel the tremor in his hands, the tension in his body. He kept glancing at the display cases, his feet shifting nervously under the table.
“I’ll step out for a bit. Just… pick whatever you like.”
The people around us whispered, envious. “Look at him doting on his wife. How sweet.”
“Do you think she even knows what she’s looking at? Born into the Fitzwilliam family. Must feel untouchable.”
I ignored them, my stomach twisting. I followed him as he left, and my heart sank when I reached the women’s restroom.
I shouldn’t have, but I heard them.
“Why did you even come here dressed like that? Three times this morning wasn’t enough?” Jordan’s voice was low, rough, panting almost.
“You started it,” Anastasia said, whining but flirty. “Why didn’t you think of that when you threw me out of the house?”
I wanted to disappear.
He muttered, almost lazily, “Relax, she’s just my wife on paper. Everyone here does this for the Fitzwilliam name, not me. You know that.”
“I am your legal wife!” she whispered, her voice shaking. “When will I ever get to be with you openly?”
Jordan’s voice hardened. “Stop talking nonsense. We agreed to keep this quiet. Don’t push it.”
Then, his voice softened again, “Here, the gem I got? It’s yours. Consider it… a small apology.”
“I want a real wedding too,” she murmured, “something bigger than hers. Something everyone can see.”
Then there was that sound I’ll never forget. I staggered out of the fair, pressing against the wall, retching, heart twisting.
So that’s him. The man who gave me a grand wedding, a title, public displays of affection, all while keeping his real love for her and their child.
I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe. Six more days. Just six more days and it’s over.
I called my assistant, voice steady but hard as steel. “Check all my shares and projects in Sinclair Group. Prepare the transfer papers immediately.”
Her next words froze me.
“Miss Genevieve… the Cancer Research Project you handled? It was transferred to Miss Anastasia last month.”
