The Zenith of His Deceit

I'm one of the top luxury real estate agents in the city.

Right now, I'm the real estate agent selling my husband and his mistress their dream love nest.

I've been with Edwin for five years. I spent three of those years bankrolling his entrepreneurial ambitions. In the last two, I got married, became pregnant, and had our son.

I've never been short of money; my family has deep roots on the East Coast. But whenever I brought up the home I’d always dreamed of, his answer was always, "Just a little longer." That is, until the day I received a new appointment for a viewing.

My new client was a young woman whose eyes curved into sweet crescents when she smiled, her face alight with anticipation.

"My boyfriend picked this place out himself," she said, her voice soft. "He insisted on buying it for us, for our new home."

I took the client file from her, my gaze falling upon the name of the apartment.

The Zenith. The Zenith Penthouse. The very one I had mentioned to my husband countless times, the home of my dreams.

I was about to comment on her impeccable taste—identical to my own—when the name listed under "Partner" caught my eye.

Edwin Croft.

My fingers froze on the page.

The girl across from me was still lost in a blissful haze. She added, a dreamy look in her eyes, "We only made it official a few months ago, but he said he wanted to give me the most incredible surprise."

I fought to suppress the storm raging within me and forced my lips into a professional smile. My mind, however, was filled with the face I'd woken up next to for five years.

So, the day had finally come for me to sell Edwin his dream home.

Unfortunately, I wasn't the woman he’d chosen to share it with.

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1

I set the file down and looked up, calmly studying the girl across from me.

She was young, with the kind of pale skin and willowy figure that screamed delicate fragility—the type designed to tug at a man's heartstrings.

My prolonged, professional silence was clearly making her uneasy.

Bonnie Reed chose her words carefully, a flicker of hesitation in her voice. "Ms. Hayes? Is there... a problem with my information?"

I leaned back in my chair, my gaze drifting back to the partner's name printed on the paper.

"No, no problem at all," I said, my voice steady. "It's just that your boyfriend's name seems familiar."

Bonnie’s eyes darted down, and she denied it a little too quickly. "I... I don't think so. You must be mistaken. Edwin has been focused on his career; this is the first home he's ever bought for a... a wedding."

The moment the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake. Her entire body went rigid.

I lowered my gaze and let out a soft, humorless laugh.

One casual question, and she’d practically given herself away. Edwin's taste in women was as terrible as ever.

I feigned ignorance, pretending not to have noticed her slip-up. Tapping my finger on the apartment's brochure, I smoothly steered the conversation back on track.

"Ms. Reed, what made you choose this place? As far as I know, The Zenith's board is extremely selective. They don't just consider financial standing; they also run extensive background checks."

Seeing that I wasn't going to press the issue, she visibly relaxed. A hint of pride crept into her voice.

"Edwin chose it. He said he spent ages searching for this perfect view, overlooking all of Central Park. He’s always dreamed of building a home here with the woman he loves."

"He told me that he'd been with other women, but he never even considered bringing them here," she said, looking up at me, unable to hide the triumph in her eyes. "Then he met me. And he knew, instantly. I was the one he wanted to hold in his arms, right in this very spot."

I watched her spin this fantasy for herself and let my gaze drop, masking the bitter scorn in my eyes.

The reason I’d agreed to marry Edwin was simple. While I was busy finding dream homes for New York’s elite, he was the first man who ever painted a picture of a home just for me.

He once held my hand, patiently describing the life that would be ours.

Sunlight would stream through massive floor-to-ceiling windows, flooding the living room. We would cuddle on the sofa, watching the city lights twinkle below, and whisper promises of forever.

He said he wanted to give me the perfect home at the peak of my life. And for that single promise, I waited like a fool for five years.

Now, he was actually buying it. Paying in full, no less.

In a place he had described to me countless times. Only now, the lady of the house was a woman he’d known for a mere few months.

I chuckled softly, my tone betraying nothing. "What a touching love story."

If that man wasn't my husband, it truly would have been a beautiful fairy tale.

Perhaps my "praise" bolstered her confidence, because she immediately began to gush about her relationship with Edwin.

"That night, I was on duty in the pediatric ER. I saw him right outside the trauma room where they were working on... his family member," she paused, as if choosing her words, then corrected herself. "He was clutching the doctor's arm, begging them to save that person. He looked so distraught, I went over to comfort him."

She pursed her lips and smiled shyly.

"He said he fell for me right then and there, because of how gentle I was."