Chapter 1

The snow fell in thick, wet flakes, sticking to Eleanor Vance' s thin dress. Each flake that landed on her bare arms felt like a tiny shock of cold, a sharp reminder of where she was and why. She shivered, not just from the freezing air, but from the look in her husband' s eyes. The man standing before her was Alexander Sterling, a name that made the tech world tremble, a CEO known for his ruthless efficiency and brutal takeovers. But for ten years, to her, he had been just Alex, the man who loved her more than his own company.

That man was gone.

"You will stand here and think about what you did," Alexander said, his voice flat and devoid of any warmth. He stood under a large black umbrella held by his assistant, completely untouched by the winter storm he had forced her into.

"I didn' t do anything," Eleanor whispered, her teeth chattering. Her simple graphic designer' s dress, something she' d worn to the office on a normal day, offered no protection against the biting wind. "Clara is lying."

"Clara doesn' t lie," he shot back, his eyes narrowing. "She' s not like you."

The words hit her harder than the cold. For a decade, his love had been her entire world. He had found her, a quiet designer lost in a sea of cubicles, and had lifted her into a life of unimaginable privilege. She loved to paint, so he had put billion-dollar deals on hold to fly across the world with her, finding the most renowned art teachers in Paris and Florence. He bought her a private studio overlooking the city, filled with crates of rare pigments and the finest canvases. He would sit with her for hours, long into the night, just watching her practice, ignoring the angry calls from his board of directors about his neglect. He wrote a graphic novel about their love story, a silly, romantic thing he' d commissioned from the best artists, and then plastered 999 digital ads across the city with a proposal that ended in a fairytale wedding. He had fought his own company, enduring three days of hostile questioning from the board to get an exception to the rule against marrying an employee. He had made her the envy of everyone.

And now, he was leaving her to freeze in a snowstorm for a woman he' d known for six months.

"Alex, please," she begged, wrapping her arms around herself. A deep, cramping pain was starting in her lower abdomen. "It' s so cold. Let me go inside."

His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his entire expression softened. The cold, hard mask he wore for her melted away into one of genuine concern. "Is she okay? Did the doctor see her? Tell her I' m on my way."

He ended the call and looked back at Eleanor, his face instantly hardening again. That quick change, that visible proof that his tenderness was now reserved for someone else, was the cruelest blow of all. He was worried about Clara Bell, his new associate, who was probably sitting in a warm room with a cup of tea, feigning distress. Clara, who claimed Eleanor had cornered her and threatened her, forcing her to flee her own office suite in terror.

"You know, your brother David' s next treatment is scheduled for Tuesday," Alexander said casually, but the threat was unmistakable. His voice was a weapon, and David was her weak spot. Her younger brother' s chronic illness was a constant worry, and Alexander' s wealth was the only thing keeping him stable. Alexander had hired the best medical team in the world for him, a team he could dismiss with a single word.

Eleanor' s breath hitched. The fear for David was a familiar, suffocating blanket. "Don' t. Please don' t bring him into this."

"Then stop being difficult," Alexander said, taking a step closer. The scent of his expensive cologne, a scent that used to comfort her, now made her feel sick. "Clara is special. She' s fragile, innocent. She looks at the world with such hope, just like you used to. I won' t let you poison that. I won' t let you become some bitter, jealous wife."

The irony was crushing. He was describing the woman he had molded her into, a woman who existed only within the bubble he had created. Now he had found a new, shinier version and was discarding the original.

"Tell me what you want me to say," she said, her voice cracking. The cramp intensified, and she pressed a hand against her stomach. She had to protect David. Nothing else mattered.

"Admit it," he demanded. "Admit you cornered her. Admit you were jealous of my attention. Admit you told her she wasn't welcome here."

Tears streamed down her face, freezing on her cheeks. Each word was a surrender, a piece of her soul being carved away. "I admit it," she choked out. "I was jealous. I told her... I told her to leave." The lie tasted like ash in her mouth.

He nodded, satisfied. "Good."

A wave of dizziness washed over Eleanor, and the pain in her stomach became a sharp, stabbing agony. She gasped, doubling over as a hot wetness spread between her legs, staining the inside of her thighs. She looked down at the pristine white snow around her feet and saw a horrifying splash of red. Her baby. Their baby. The one she had only found out about last week, the secret she was waiting to tell him on his birthday.

"Alex," she cried out, her voice filled with a terror that had nothing to do with the cold or his threats. "Something' s wrong. Help me."

He glanced at the blood on the snow, his expression flickering with something unreadable for a moment before it settled back into cold indifference. His obsession with Clara had consumed him completely. "The house manager will send a car for you. Don' t cause a scene."

He turned and walked away without looking back, leaving her bleeding in the snow. He was going to comfort Clara, the architect of this entire nightmare.

The world began to tilt. The falling snow seemed to slow down, and the city lights blurred into a meaningless smear. He had taken everything from her. Her home, her security, her dignity. And now, her child. The love that had been her sun, her moon, and all her stars had not just faded, it had become a black hole, sucking all the light and life out of her. As she collapsed onto the cold, unforgiving ground, a single, clear thought cut through the pain and the fog.

She didn't love him anymore. The fairytale was over.