Elise POV:
The screenshots were saved. My face, still streaked with tears, hardened. There was no more room for shock, just a cold, relentless clarity. I didn't cry anymore. I couldn't. It felt like my tear ducts had simply run dry, or maybe my heart had frozen over.
I heard the familiar jingle of keys in the lock. Elias.
He walked in, looking exactly as he always did-perfectly tailored suit, a charming smile, not a single hair out of place. No tell-tale signs of a night spent in another woman' s bed, no lingering scent of cheap perfume. He was a master of performance, I realized now. A true artist of deception.
He held up a small bag. "Hey, love. I brought your favorite pad thai. And I picked up those new architectural magazines you wanted." He always knew how to twist the knife, even unknowingly.
He saw my face. "Elise? What's wrong? You look pale." His brow furrowed with what looked like genuine concern. Or perhaps it was just another part of the act.
He moved towards me, his hand reaching out. I recoiled, stepping back before I even thought about it. His hand hung in the air, then dropped awkwardly. A flicker of something crossed his face-embarrassment? Disappointment? Or was it just annoyance that I was messing up his perfect script?
"Is there something you're not telling me, Elias?" I asked, my voice flat, devoid of any emotion I might have once felt for him.
He blinked, feigning confusion. "What are you talking about, sweetie?" He pulled out his phone. "Did I miss something? My phone was on silent during my 'late night meeting' with investors." He gave me a practiced, apologetic smile.
Just then, my phone buzzed. A notification from PeachyKeen. I didn't need to look. I knew.
PeachyKeen: Just finished deleting all the embarrassing messages from last night. Daddy's so worried his 'boring fiancée' will find out! LOL.
The post was accompanied by a photo of Elias's back, his shirt slightly rumpled, sitting on a bed. My stomach felt hollow, so empty that I didn't even have the energy to feel sick anymore.
I pulled my lips into a semblance of a smile. It felt brittle, ready to crack. I looked at Elias, still meticulously pretending to check his phone, his face a mask of false innocence.
"Oh, it's nothing important," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm I knew he wouldn't catch. "Just another one of those silly internet rumors."
He visibly relaxed. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, almost imperceptible. He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight. His chin rested on the top of my head, his voice soft, gentle. "You're such a silly goose, my little confused darling. Don't let those online trolls get to you."
His embrace was still warm, his scent familiar. But all I felt was a cold, piercing chill.
"You know I'd never hide anything from you, Elise," he whispered, his voice thick with a fake tenderness that made my skin crawl. "You're my everything. My queen." He pressed a kiss to my hair. "I feel so guilty sometimes, working so much. But it's all for us, for our future. Our engagement party is next month. I want to show everyone that you are the only one for me. My one and only."
I didn't say anything. I just stood there, letting him hold me, letting him weave his web of lies, a spider admiring its unwitting prey.
I thought of the early days, when he was just a struggling startup founder, and I was a junior architect. We had built this life together, brick by brick, dream by dream. There were times when he worked three jobs just to pay our rent, his eyes burning with ambition. "I'll make sure you never have to want for anything, Elise," he'd promised, his hand in mine. "You won't have to work this hard forever. I'll take care of you. Just you."
I had loved that boy. I had believed in him with every fiber of my being. What if I hadn't found out? How long would he have let me live in this gilded cage of lies, a pathetic fool? I probably would have just kept believing him, kept thinking he was the struggling hero making sacrifices for our shared future.
The doorbell rang, a sharp, insistent sound.
Elias frowned slightly, pulling away from me. "Who could that be?" he muttered, already walking towards the door. He opened it, his body blocking my view.
A sweet, lilting voice carried into the living room. "Daddy! You forgot your coffee!"
It was Krystal. The same sickeningly sweet voice from her Instagram stories. Elias froze for a fraction of a second, then quickly mumbled, "Thanks! You shouldn't have," and shut the door with a hurried click.
He walked back, holding two coffees, both in branded cups from the fancy artisanal cafe Krystal frequented. "Just a delivery, baby," he said, forcing a casual tone. "My assistant sent them over, said I looked tired." It was a plausible lie, a perfectly constructed facade. He was good, so good.
I looked up, meeting his eyes. Mine were steady, unwavering. "Is there truly nothing you're withholding from me, Elias?" I asked again, my voice still as calm as a frozen lake.
