Chapter 4 Alone

Anastasia

"Mrs. Winfrey... my God, you're all dressed up. May I know where you're going?" Naomi's voice held a mix of surprise and confusion as she spotted me descending the stairs. I could see the shock in her eyes, as if she had been preparing to console me, perhaps even coax me into coming down for breakfast. The sight of me, dressed and walking briskly, was clearly the last thing she expected.

But I was done being the obedient wife who waits eagerly for her husband to come home with an explanation. For three long years, I had played that role-waiting, hoping, believing. But not anymore. I had reached my breaking point. I needed to know if there was anything left to salvage or if my marriage was truly over.

"I will be home soon, Naomi," I replied, my voice calm and controlled as I headed for the door. I couldn't tell her where I was going; she would only try to stop me.

The drive to Quinn's company felt surreal. My mind raced with thoughts of what I would say, how I would demand the answers I deserved. I feel so uneasy, each mile brings me closer to the confrontation I both dreaded and craved.

When I arrived at the building, I pushed through the glass doors with more force than necessary, my determination barely masking the anxiety that churned within me. The lobby was alive with movement, employees bustling about, none of them spared me a second glance as I made my way to the reception desk, my heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor.

I had never been to Quinn's company before and might never have, had circumstances not demanded it. Now, I had no choice.

"I'm here to see Quinn Winfrey," I announced, my voice more confident than I felt as I stood before the brunette woman behind the desk.

The receptionist, a young woman with impeccably styled hair and a cold, detached expression, barely looked up from her computer. "Do you have an appointment?" she asked in a monotone, her fingers tapping away at the keyboard.

"I'm his wife," I replied, though the words felt hollow even to me.

The receptionist finally lifted her gaze, her eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and disdain. "His wife?" she repeated, as if the very notion was absurd. "I wasn't aware Mr. Winfrey was married."

That must be a joke. For three years, I had been Quinn's wife, yet here I was, standing before someone who had no idea I even existed. The realisation sent a cold shiver down my spine-had Quinn hidden me from everyone in his life?

For Pete's sake, our marriage was public knowledge-it had been all over the internet. How could she not know?

"Yes, I'm his wife," I insisted, though my voice trembled slightly now. "I need to see him."

The receptionist raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with her colleague beside her. A small, condescending smile played at her lips as she looked back at me. "We get people like you every day, claiming to be someone important to Mr. Winfrey. But without an appointment, I'm afraid you'll have to wait."

She didn't just say that to me. People like me? How many women had come here, pretending to be a part of Quinn's life? And why did no one know I was actually his wife?

I opened my mouth to protest, to tell her I wasn't just another one of his many admirers, that I was the woman he had promised to love and cherish. I could have told her to look on the internet for confirmation. But before I could say anything, the elevator doors slid open, and my heart nearly stopped.

Quinn stepped out, his tall frame imposing and commanding as always. But he wasn't alone. Veronica Rodriguez was by his side, her hand resting casually on his arm as if she belonged there. They looked like the perfect couple-beautiful, glamorous, untouchable.

My breath caught in my throat as I watched them together, the ease with which they moved, the way they seemed to fit so perfectly. Veronica's laughter rang through the lobby, light and carefree, as if she hadn't a worry in the world. The employees around them bowed in respect, their gazes filled with admiration and envy.

I had always lived in the shadows. Today, I knew that more than ever.

My mind struggled to process what I was seeing, my worst fears manifesting before my very eyes.

She does look like me. A lot more than she did in the pictures.

"Quinn!" I called out, my voice shaky and desperate. I saw him hesitate for a fraction of a second before he turned towards me, his expression unreadable.

Veronica looked at me curiously, her hand still on Quinn's arm, but it was his reaction that shattered me. There was no recognition, no warmth in his eyes-just cold, detached indifference. It was as if I were a stranger, an inconvenience he had to deal with.

"Why haven't you been answering my calls?" I demanded, my voice breaking. "I've been trying to reach you all night! Your staff-they wouldn't let me in. They laughed at me when I said I was your wife! How could you allow that?"

I could feel the stares of everyone in the lobby, but I didn't care. I was beyond caring. The humiliation, the pain, it all came pouring out, and I was powerless to stop it. I just wanted the world to know my spot was right there, where she stood, beside him.

Quinn's jaw tightened, a flicker of something-anger, embarrassment?-crossing his features. But before he could respond, Veronica's voice cut through the tension, calm and composed.

"Quinn, maybe we should take this somewhere private," she suggested, her tone gentle, as if she were trying to soothe a wild animal. "There's no need to cause a scene."

We? I laughed bitterly.

Her words only made me feel worse. She was playing the role of the considerate, composed woman, while I stood there, unravelling in front of everyone. I hated her at that moment, not just for being with Quinn, but for being everything I wasn't-calm, confident, and in control.

But I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't just stand there and watch them walk away as if I were nothing.

"She's the reason?" I cried, taking a step towards Quinn. "The reason you treated me like trash, as if I was nothing to you. I'm your wife, Quinn! I deserve an explanation!"

Quinn's eyes darkened, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Anastasia, you need to leave," he said coldly. "This isn't the place for this kind of conversation."

This wasn't the place? When had he ever made time for me, for us, in private? The hurt in my chest grew unbearable, and I knew I was losing control.

"You are-" I was interrupted by the wave of his hand.

"Security," Quinn called out, his voice harsh and final. "Please escort Mrs. Winfrey out of the building."

Mrs. Winfrey. How perfect.

He had never called me that, and just when he needed the world to know I was nothing to him, he referred to me with his last name, telling the world that I was that wife in the shadows, the one no one was aware of. I wished he had just called me by my name.

I didn't fight as the security guards approached, their hands gentle yet firm as they guided me towards the exit. I was too numb to resist, too broken to care anymore. My legs felt like they could barely hold me up as I was led out of the building, my heart shattering with each step.

As the doors closed behind me, I caught one last glimpse of Quinn and Veronica. She leaned in close to him, her lips moving as she whispered something in his ear. I couldn't hear what she said, but I saw the way he looked at her-soft, almost tender.

And then she turned, her gaze meeting mine for just a moment. There was something in her eyes, a flicker of surprise. "She looks familiar," I heard her say faintly before the doors swung shut.

I stood there, alone and discarded. How has my life come to this? How had I become nothing more than a shadow in Quinn's life, someone to be forgotten and cast aside?

Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled out of the building, my heart heavy with the weight of everything I had lost. My marriage, my dignity, my sense of self-it was all gone, leaving me hollow and aching.

As I walked away from the company, with no place in mind to go, I realised that it was truly best for both of us to go our separate ways.