Chapter 4

Corinna POV:

The car moved silently through the night, a phantom in the city's labyrinthine streets. We followed Graham' s convoy, a dark serpent winding its way through the elite districts, past sprawling mansions and manicured hedges. My driver, a man named Mark, was efficient and unobtrusive, a veteran of political shadows. He knew instinctively not to question.

Graham's destination was not a hospital, as he' d claimed, nor the discreet clinic he sometimes used for "urgent family matters." It was the private, heavily guarded estate of his family's closest allies, a place reserved for their inner circle. A place I knew intimately, a place I had often visited with him. A place no "outsider" could ever enter without direct clearance.

Mark pulled up a block away, turning off the headlights. "He's gone in, ma'am," he murmured, his eyes on the imposing gates. "The guards waved him right through."

I nodded, my gaze fixed on the entrance. I knew exactly where he would go inside. The small, secluded guesthouse hidden behind the main residence, a little indulgence Graham kept for his... private moments. His private moments. My stomach churned.

"Wait here," I told Mark, my voice flat. "I'll be back."

I got out of the car, adjusting the shawl around my shoulders, and walked towards the entrance. The guards, recognizing me, nodded respectfully and opened the small pedestrian gate. "Good evening, Ms. Cross. Congressman Rios is already inside." Their smiles were knowing, friendly. They thought I was here to join him. How wrong they were.

I slipped past them, melting into the shadows of the carefully lit gardens. The air was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, cloying and sweet. I moved silently, my soft shoes barely disturbing the gravel paths. My heart felt like a block of ice, heavy and inert in my chest. I wasn't just observing. I was preparing.

I found my spot, hidden behind a thick cluster of hedges, with a clear view of the guesthouse. The lights were on inside, casting a warm, inviting glow. A moment later, the guesthouse door opened.

Hollie.

She burst out, a vision in a shimmering silk dress, her blonde hair a cascade around her shoulders. She threw herself into Graham's arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as he caught her, spinning her around in a dizzying embrace. Her laughter, high-pitched and triumphant, pierced the night.

"Graham! Oh, my darling, I saw the drones! My name on the sky! You really did it!" she gushed, her voice thick with adoration. "But... why Corinna's name first? You should've put mine!" She pouted playfully, a gesture I recognized. It was her signature move when she wanted something.

Graham laughed, a deep, satisfied sound. "My little canary. You know I have to keep up appearances. Besides," he murmured, his lips pressing a kiss to her temple, "that was just a warm-up. You know your birthday is next week. I've got something even better planned for you then. Fireworks. Just for you."

Fireworks. I remembered the year before, Graham had told me he was too busy with a crucial Senate vote to celebrate my birthday in a grand way. He' d gifted me a simple, elegant necklace, saying, "True love doesn't need grand gestures, Corinna. It needs quiet devotion." I had smiled, touched by his "sincerity." He had been with Hollie, watching fireworks.

"You really spoil me," Hollie cooed, nuzzling into his neck. "But you know what I really want, don't you? I want her gone, Graham. I want to be your First Lady. Your wife. Not just your little secret."

Graham's eyes, even from this distance, held a possessive hunger as he looked at her. "Patience, little one. All in good time. You'll have everything she has, and more. Trust me."

My breath caught in my throat. Everything I had. Everything she had. He was talking about my life. My position. My future. He was planning to hand it all over to my sister.

I remembered his words: Just some minor internal disagreements... my aunt, an unexpected health issue. Lies. All of it. He wasn' t handling family business. He was building a new family. With my sister. While I sat alone, fearing for his safety, believing his every word. I was a puppet. A fool who danced on the strings of his deceit.

Hollie pulled back, her eyes sparkling with challenge. She reached into her small purse, pulling out a small, delicately wrapped box. "I brought you a gift, darling. To celebrate our future. You have to open it yourself though. It's... very special." Her voice was a purr, dripping with innuendo.

His eyes darkened with lust. He scooped her up effortlessly, cradling her in his arms. She giggled, a sound that grated on my raw nerves. "My beautiful canary," he whispered, his lips tracing the curve of her neck.

He carried her across the threshold of the guesthouse, her legs still wrapped around him. Just before the door closed, I heard her whisper, "Kiss me, Graham." And then, a wet, smacking sound, followed by her breathy moan. The door clicked shut, plunging the guesthouse into a more intimate, suggestive darkness. I knew what would happen next. I didn't need to see it to know. The top floor suite. The one he always reserved for... special occasions.

A wave of nausea washed over me. My vision blurred. I felt lightheaded, as if all the air had been sucked out of my lungs. My knees buckled, and I sank to the ground behind the hedges, the rough leaves digging into my skin. Tears, hot and stinging, streamed down my face, blurring the soft glow of the guesthouse lights into an ugly smear.

Graham had promised me forever. He had sworn on his family's honor. He had told me I was his anchor, his rock, his everything. All lies. Deceit. A grand performance staged just for me. And I, the star of his delusion, had fallen completely.

I saw it clearly now. My life was over. My marriage, before it even began, was a shattered illusion. The dream of a family, a future, everything I had clung to, was gone. Just like that.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the sobs back down my throat. No more tears. Not for him. Not for them. My father's voice, quiet and firm, echoed in my mind: "Never let them see you bleed, Corinna. They'll only twist the knife."

I wiped my face roughly with the back of my hand, the wetness a cold reminder of my pain. Three days. That' s all I had left. Three days, and Corinna Cross would cease to exist.

I walked back to Mark' s car, my steps steady, my face emotionless. "Take me home, Mark," I said, my voice flat. "It's late."

Back at the mansion, the sprawling symbol of my broken dreams, I bypassed the main suite. The thought of stepping into that room, our room, where he would eventually return from her arms, made my stomach clench. I found a guest room, locked the door, and sank onto the pristine white sheets. I was already a ghost in my own life.

Hours later, long after midnight, I heard the faint rumble of Graham' s car. Then his footsteps, heavy and impatient, echoing through the silent house. "Corinna? My love, where are you?" His voice was thick with sleep, or perhaps, lingering passion.

I heard him checking our suite, then calling out again, his voice rising in irritation. "Corinna! Where the hell are you?"

A moment later, Robert's voice. "Sir, Ms. Cross's car... it's not in the garage. She must have gone out."

Graham's roar of frustration shook the very foundations of the house. "Find her! Now! Search every inch of this city if you have to! I want her found!"

I heard heavy footsteps thundering down the hall, coming closer. My heart pounded, but I forced my breathing to remain even. The door to my guest room burst open.

Graham stood there, his eyes wide with a mixture of anger and panic. He looked disheveled, his suit jacket askew, his hair mussed. He saw me lying in bed, feigning sleep, my eyes fluttering open as if roused by the commotion.

His anger evaporated, replaced by a profound relief that made his shoulders slump. He crossed the room in two strides, pulling me into a crushing embrace. "Corinna! Oh, thank God! I thought... I thought you were gone. I thought I'd lost you." His voice wavered, thick with a terror that felt almost genuine.

I patted his back gently, my hand light and dismissive. "Graham, darling, what's wrong? Why are you shouting?"

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine, still filled with a lingering fear. "You weren't in our room. Your car was gone. I just... I panicked. I can't lose you, Corinna. I can't."

I forced a weak smile. "I just wasn't feeling well. The emotions of the day, you know. I took a sleeping pill and came into a quieter room. I didn't want to disturb you."

He looked at me, a soft, relieved sigh escaping his lips. "Oh, Corinna. My love. You scared me half to death." He kissed my forehead, then pulled me close again, holding me tight against his chest. "Never do that to me again. I need you. I need you more than you know."

He needs me. Not loves me. Needs me. He needed my political acumen, my connections, my family name, the facade I presented to the world. He needed me to keep his house of cards from collapsing.

"I'm here, Graham," I whispered, my voice a soft lie. "Always."

He held me until he drifted off to sleep, his breath warm on my neck. His hand, heavy and possessive, rested on my stomach, a cruel irony. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, my heart a stone. He thought he had me. He thought he was safe. He had no idea the woman in his arms was already plotting his downfall. I closed my eyes, a cold, humorless smile on my lips.