Elena's POV
"You look beautiful tonight, Elena. Almost makes me forget you're not her."
My husband's words hit me like ice water, and I force my lips into a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. Three years. Three years of marriage, and Adrian Castellano still can't look at me without seeing my stepsister's face.
"Thank you, darling," I say softly, even though every word from his mouth feels like a paper cut on my heart.
Adrian nods once—his version of affection—then turns back to the crowd of business partners filling the ballroom. The Castellano merger party is the event of the season. Everyone who matters in New York is here, dressed in designer clothes and fake smiles. I'm wearing a dress I designed myself, stayed up three nights finishing because I wanted—just once—for Adrian to really see me.
He saw me. He just wished I was someone else.
I watch my husband work the room like the CEO he is—confident, charming, shaking hands and making deals. He's handsome in his black suit, with dark hair and blue eyes that could freeze oceans. Every woman here wants him.
I'm the only one who has him, and he's never really been mine.
"Still playing the dutiful wife?" A familiar voice purrs behind me.
I turn to see Serena Cross, Adrian's ex-girlfriend from college. She's beautiful and mean, like a rose covered in poison. Her red dress probably costs more than most people's cars.
"Hello, Serena," I say, keeping my voice calm. "Are you enjoying the party?"
"Oh, I'm enjoying watching you pretend everything's perfect." Serena sips her champagne, her eyes gleaming with something nasty. "Everyone knows Adrian only married you because Vivian ran away. You're just the substitute, sweetie. The backup plan."
My chest tightens, but I don't let her see it hurt. I've heard worse. My own stepmother says the same thing at family dinners.
"If you'll excuse me—" I start to walk away.
"He's meeting her tonight, you know," Serena calls after me. "Vivian's back in town. Didn't he tell you?"
I stop walking. My heart pounds so hard I can hear it in my ears.
"You're lying," I whisper, but I can hear the doubt in my own voice.
Serena laughs, a cold sound that makes my skin crawl. "Am I? Check his phone if you don't believe me. Oh wait—he doesn't let you touch his phone, does he? I wonder why."
She walks away, leaving me standing alone in a room full of people.
Vivian's back. My stepsister, the woman who was supposed to marry Adrian but ran away to Milan the night before the wedding. My father begged me to take her place. "Save the family, Elena. We need the Castellano connection." So I wore Vivian's wedding dress and married a man who called me by her name three times during our vows.
I told myself things would get better. That Adrian would learn to love me. That I could make him happy if I just tried hard enough.
I've been trying for three years.
I look around the ballroom for Adrian. He's not by the bar. Not near the business partners he was talking to. Not anywhere I can see.
My phone buzzes. A text from my best friend Maya: How's the party? Is Adrian being nice?
I type back: He's being Adrian.
She sends back a sad emoji. Maya is the only person who knows how lonely my marriage really is. Even my own father thinks I should be grateful Adrian married me at all.
Another hour passes. I smile at guests. I make small talk with wives of Adrian's business partners. I pretend my husband isn't missing from his own party.
"Mrs. Castellano?" Marcus, Adrian's assistant, appears at my elbow. He's young, nervous, and one of the few people at Castellano Enterprises who's kind to me. "Have you seen Mr. Castellano? The investors from Tokyo want to speak with him."
"I haven't seen him in over an hour," I admit.
Marcus's face does something weird—a flash of worry, quickly hidden. "I'm sure he's just taking a call. I'll check his office."
But the way Marcus won't meet my eyes makes my stomach twist.
He's meeting her tonight, Serena's voice echoes in my head. Vivian's back in town.
No. Adrian wouldn't. He's cold, distant, but he's not a cheater. Is he?
I think about our marriage. The way he works late every night. The way he barely touches me anymore, even in bed. The way his phone is always face-down, password-protected. The way he takes "business calls" and leaves the room.
Oh God.
My feet start moving before I decide to follow. I leave the ballroom, my heart racing. The Castellano building is huge—fifty floors of steel and glass. Adrian's private office is on the top floor. I take the elevator, my hands shaking.
The executive floor is quiet, empty. Everyone's at the party downstairs. My heels click on the marble floor as I walk toward Adrian's office. I can see light under his door.
There are voices inside. Low voices. A woman's laugh.
I know that laugh. I grew up hearing that laugh. It's the sound Vivian makes when she gets what she wants.
My hand reaches for the door handle. Every part of me screams to turn around, go back downstairs, pretend I never came up here. But I can't. I have to know.
I open the door.
The scene in front of me moves in slow motion. Adrian has someone pressed against his desk. Her black dress is pushed up. His hands are in her long dark hair. They're kissing like the world is ending, like they're drowning and each other is air.
Then they hear the door and spring apart.
Adrian's face goes pale. The woman turns around, and I see her clearly.
Vivian. My stepsister. Wearing the diamond necklace Adrian gave me for our anniversary last month.
"Elena—" Adrian starts.
But I'm not looking at him anymore. I'm looking at the small child hiding behind Adrian's desk, peeking out with wide eyes.
A little boy. Maybe four or five years old. With Adrian's dark hair and blue eyes.
"Mommy?" the child says to Vivian. "Is that her? The mean lady Daddy told me about?"
The floor drops out from under me. The mean lady. My husband has a son. With my stepsister. And I'm the villain in their story.
Vivian smiles at me, slow and vicious. "Surprise, sis. Did you really think Adrian could ever love you? You were just keeping him warm until I was ready to come home."
She puts her hand on her stomach, and I see it—the small bump under her dress.
"We're having another baby," Vivian purrs. "Isn't that wonderful?"
The room spins. Three years of marriage. Three years of trying to be enough. And my husband has been building a whole secret family with my stepsister.
Adrian steps toward me, his hand out. "Elena, let me explain—"
But I'm already backing away, my vision blurring with tears I won't let fall. Not here. Not in front of them.
I turn and run.
Behind me, I hear Adrian call my name, but I don't stop. I run to the elevator, jab the button, pray the doors close before he reaches me.
They do.
As I descend, leaving my old life fifty floors above me, one thought burns through my mind like fire:
Everything I thought I knew was a lie. My whole marriage. My whole life.
And I'm done being the fool.
The elevator doors open to the parking garage. I walk toward my car on shaking legs. My phone buzzes again. A text from an unknown number:
Your husband's betrayal is worse than you know. Meet me tomorrow at Rosewood Café, 10 AM. I have proof that will destroy him. Come alone. -V.R.
V.R.? Who is V.R.? And what proof could be worse than what I just saw?
I stare at the message, my finger hovering over the delete button.
Then Adrian's voice echoes from somewhere behind me: "Elena! Wait! It's not what you think!"
I make my decision.
I hit reply and type one word: Okay.
Then I get in my car and drive away from everything I thought I knew, toward a tomorrow that terrifies me.
But for the first time in three years, I'm choosing something for myself.
Even if I have no idea what comes next.