Chapter 4

Gretchen Rivas POV:

Donovan raised his wine glass, his eyes misty. "To us, Gretchen," he began, his voice thick with false emotion. "Ten years. We built this empire from nothing. You were there for every struggle, every late night. My rock."

He recounted our early days, painting a picture of shared hardship and unwavering love. He made it sound like a fairy tale. A twisted, cruel mockery of what it once was.

"No more struggles, my love," he promised, draining his glass. "Only good days from now on. I swear."

I swirled the wine in my glass, taking a small sip. His words meant nothing. There was no "us" anymore. There was no "future."

"Let's not dwell on the past," I said, my voice flat. "It sounds... sentimental."

He frowned, misinterpreting my coldness as pique. "You're right, you're right." He quickly filled my plate, urging me to eat.

I ate a few bites, then pushed my plate away. My appetite was long gone.

"What's wrong, honey?" he asked, concern etched on his face. "Don't like the food?"

I looked at him, a faint, sardonic smile on my lips. "Donovan, do you ever get tired of eating the same food, day after day?"

His brow furrowed. "I suppose? Why? We can go somewhere else if you want."

"No," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "If you get tired, you replace it. Wouldn't that be... disloyal?"

He looked genuinely confused, almost offended. "Gretchen, what's gotten into you? You're acting so strange tonight."

His phone buzzed again, vibrating against the tablecloth. He snatched it, glancing at the screen, and immediately hit decline.

But the messages kept coming. Ping, ping, ping. The screen lit up with Keri's smiling face, a selfie from what looked like a hotel room.

Donovan's face reddened. "Who is that?" I asked, my voice dangerously soft.

He quickly extinguished the screen. "Just... a client. New car specs. Nothing you need to worry about." He looked desperate. "Actually, I just remembered, I need to head to the factory. Urgent data review. I'll call a cab for you. You go on home and rest."

He called the cab, then practically pushed me into it. I watched him through the window as he paid the driver, then spun on his heel and hailed another cab for himself, disappearing into the night.

The driver, a jovial man, whistled. "Man, that husband of yours is really something! Built that amazing pink car, and still so devoted. A real catch."

Devotion? I scoffed internally. It's all market research.

"Follow him," I told the driver, my voice suddenly steely.

The driver blinked, surprised. "Huh? Follow who, ma'am?"

My eyes, cold and dark, met his in the rearview mirror. "My husband. I want to see where his 'urgent data review' takes him."

The driver, sensing the shift in mood, quickly complied. He followed Donovan's cab through the winding city streets.

Donovan's cab pulled up in front of his company's headquarters. He practically leaped out, rushing inside. A single light burned on the top floor – his office. Someone was waiting for him.

I paid my driver and followed him inside, my steps silent on the polished marble floor. The elevator ride felt endless. When it finally dinged open, a wave of sound hit me. Not the hushed tones of a late-night meeting. But something else. A woman's moans. Donovan's low grunts.

I walked closer, my heart turning to ice. The sounds grew louder. Obscene. Unmistakable. Keri's voice, whispering his name, punctuated by the rhythmic creak of a sofa.

My breath hitched. My vision swam. Not from sadness, but from pure, unadulterated disgust. My stomach clenched. He was doing this. Here. In his office. On my birthday. The day he publicly declared his undying love for me.

The decade of our life together, all our memories, flashed before my eyes. A beautiful lie. A fragile bubble, now burst. I had always believed in our love, our future. Now, it was clear. Love, for him, was just another transaction. Another indulgence.

I turned away, the sounds still ringing in my ears. The man I loved. The man I had dedicated my life to. He was a stranger. A monster. He had taken everything from me. My innocence, my trust, my future.

I walked out of that building, leaving behind the man I married, the life I built, and the last shred of my belief in our love.