Chapter 3 Hidden Pain

The master bedroom of the Knight mansion was a study in opulent isolation, a vast space with soaring ceilings, silk drapes framing panoramic windows, and a king-sized bed draped in custom Egyptian cotton sheets that cost more than most people's monthly rent. Tonight, the city lights twinkled far below like distant stars, indifferent to the turmoil within.

Evelyn sat on the edge of the bed, still in the clothes she had worn for the divorce signing, her posture straight but her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional distant murmur of voices from downstairs Alexander entertaining Sophia, no doubt. She didn't need to strain to imagine it: Sophia's laughter, bright and possessive, Alexander's low responses, the clink of glasses.

For the first time in three years, Evelyn allowed the tears to come. Not dramatic sobs, nothing that would echo through the halls but quiet streams that traced warm paths down her cheeks. She wiped them away quickly, angrily, as if betraying weakness to an empty room was unforgivable.

How did it come to this?

She rose and crossed to the nightstand on her side of the bed, the one that had remained largely untouched by Alexander's belongings. With a soft click, she opened the hidden drawer at the bottom, a compartment disguised as part of the wood paneling. Inside lay a thick leather-bound portfolio, its edges worn from countless secret handlings, and a small external drive wrapped in velvet.

This was her true legacy. Not the designer gowns in the closet or the society invitations piled on the dresser. This.

Evelyn pulled out the portfolio and carried it back to the bed, spreading it open under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Page after page of hand-sketched designs, digital renders printed on archival paper, annotated notes in her precise handwriting. Hundreds of them, accumulated over the three years of her marriage.

She turned to the first section: the eco-tower that had catapulted Knight Empire into global headlines two years ago. The one Alexander had accepted the Global Innovator Award for, thanking his dedicated team on stage while she watched from the audience, smiling politely. These were her originals, the adaptive facade system that responded to sunlight, the vertical gardens integrated into the structure for natural cooling, the seismic innovations that made it both beautiful and unbreakable. She had sketched them feverishly one sleepless week when Alexander came home frustrated, complaining that the project was stalled and investors were pulling out.

I don't know how we'll salvage this, he'd said over dinner, barely looking at her.

That night, in her study, she had poured her soul into solutions. By dawn, she had encrypted the files and submitted them anonymously to his company's secure project portal, a backdoor channel she had discovered early in the marriage, meant for external consultants.

The next morning, Alexander had burst into the dining room, excited in a way she hadn't seen directed at her in months. Someone sent breakthrough designs overnight. This is it, this will save the project.

He never questioned the source. Just implemented them. Credited his team. Moved on.

And Evelyn? She had smiled quietly, told herself it was enough to see him succeed. That supporting him from the shadows was her role as his wife.

But it became a habit. A compulsion.

Every stalled project, every ambitious bid she fed him genius in secret.

The coastal resort with wave-energy integration? Hers.

The sustainable urban district that won government contracts worth billions? Her structural innovations.

The luxury high-rise with panoramic smart-glass systems? Every elegant curve and efficiency stemmed from these pages.

She flipped further, her fingers lingering on the annotations. Late-night sessions after family dinners where Sophia's presence had grated like sandpaper. Hours hunched over her laptop while Alexander slept or didn't come to bed at all.

Before marriage, Evelyn Harper had been on the cusp of her own brilliance. Top of her class at the most prestigious architecture program in the country. Internships at legendary firms. Professors who called her a once-in-a-generation talent. She had dreams of founding her own studio, designing landmarks that would bear her name.

Then came the arrangement. Victoria Knight's approval. Alexander's indifferent agreement.

One star in the family is enough, he had said during their engagement, when she tentatively mentioned continuing her career. Knight Empire needs focus. You understand.

She had understood. Or convinced herself she did.

Love, she thought, meant sacrifice. Compromise. She would build through him.

So she dimmed her light. Retired quietly from the industry, citing family priorities. Friends mourned her potential. Mentors sent disappointed emails.

And in the shadows, she created anyway. Anonymously. Relentlessly.

Because stopping felt like dying.

Tears fell faster now as memories flooded in.

The nights she worked until dawn, fueled by coffee and determination, only to hear Alexander praise Sophia's insights the next day.

The family dinners where they mocked her as useless, oblivious that the empire they boasted about rested on her unseen foundations.

The way Alexander's indifference had slowly eroded her confidence, making her question if her talent was real or if she truly was the ornament they called her.

She closed the portfolio and held it to her chest, rocking slightly.

All those awards on his office walls. The magazine covers proclaiming him a visionary. The fortune that funded this mansion, the private jets, the lifestyle Sophia was already claiming.

Built on her brilliance. Stolen, not maliciously perhaps, but stolen all the same.

Because he never asked. Never saw.

Enough.

The word echoed in her mind like a mantra.

She returned the portfolio to its hiding place, along with the drive containing digital backups encrypted, routed through servers he could never trace.

Tomorrow, she will leave this room, this house, this life.

And when she did, the shadows would lift.

She would reclaim her name. Her talent. Her power.

Alexander thought he was discarding a useless wife.

He had no idea he was about to lose the architect of his entire empire.

Wiping her face dry, Evelyn stood and walked to the window, gazing out at the city she had helped shape from afar.

The pain was still deep, aching.

But beneath it, something stronger stirred.

Resolve.

Tomorrow, the invisible wife would step into the light.

And the world would finally see what Alexander Knight had blindly thrown away.