Chapter 3 THE WIFE WHO WAS NOT BURIED.

Anais didn't sleep. The box lay open on the floor like a wound she couldn't close. The report was still in her lap. Her fingers clutched the edge like if she let go, the truth would vanish. She had been pregnant. She had lost it. She had never known. And somehow, he had. Cassian Vale-her legally bound stranger of a husband-had known something she didn't even know about herself. And he said nothing. Not when she left. Not now. Not ever. She wanted to tear the paper in half. Burn it. Deny it. But it was real. Cold. Clinical. There were no footprints on a sonogram. No heartbeat to remember.

Just a printed line on cheap hospital paper filed beneath letters she'd never meant to leave behind. She sat there on the carpet until the room blurred and the morning light pressed its fingers through the blinds. And still, she didn't cry. By the time Cassian returned, Anais was standing in the kitchen. She didn't say good morning. He didn't ask why she hadn't slept. They moved around each other like they always had;two ghosts haunting the same high-rise. But this time, she broke first. "Why didn't you tell me?" He didn't look up from his coffee. "About what?" "You know what." A beat passed. His fingers stilled on the mug. "You wouldn't have stayed." Her heart cracked. Not because he was wrong, but because he wasn't. "You thought hiding it was better?" "I thought protecting you was better." Anais laughed-a hollow, stunned sound. "From what? From knowing I lost something I didn't even have a chance to love?" Cassian finally looked at her. And for the first time since she returned, there was something in his eyes. Not anger. Not control. Just... tiredness. "You didn't lose it," he said quietly. "It wasn't your fault. You were under stress. You were scared. You were-" "Alone," she cut in. His jaw clenched. "Exactly," she said. "I was alone. In your house. In your life. In our marriage. And when I left, you didn't come after me. You let me go." "No," Cassian said, his voice low. "I let you think you were gone." She stared at him. "What do you mean?" He set the mug down slowly. Walked toward her. Close enough to steal her breath without touching her. "I've known where you were every day for the past three years." Her chest tightened. "That's not love," she whispered. "It wasn't meant to be," he said. "It was meant to be safe." Anais shook her head. "No. It was meant to keep me in orbit." "And here you are," he said calmly. As if her pain was a map. And he had drawn the route from the start. Later that day, the doorbell rang. She didn't expect visitors. She rarely expected anything anymore. Cassian was out again. A meeting. Or maybe another game she wasn't allowed to see yet. She opened the door and froze. Standing there was Irene. But not the version Anais remembered. This Irene wore anger like perfume. Elegant, sharp, and impossible to ignore. "We need to talk," Irene said. Anais stepped aside. Barely. They sat in the sunroom, an untouched space where nothing ever bloomed. Irene crossed her legs and folded her arms. "Why did you really come back?" Anais blinked. "You think I had a choice?" "No," Irene said. "But you still didn't have to come here. You could've asked for a lawyer. A mediator. You could've vanished again. So why show up at the dragon's door and ask to be eaten?" Anais exhaled, slow and deliberate. "Because I owed him. Because I was scared. Because..." She hesitated. Irene's gaze didn't blink. "Because of the child?" Anais's stomach dropped. "You knew?" "I knew the minute he started canceling meetings to sit in an empty room." Anais closed her eyes. "I wasn't hiding it," Irene said more gently now. "I just... I didn't know if you could take knowing it." "I couldn't." Anais looked away. "But now I have to." Irene leaned forward. "Then hear this too: not everyone in Cassian's world wants you back. There are people-on the board, in the family-who think your return threatens the succession plan. And they will do anything to make sure you don't outlast your contract." Anais felt the ground shift under her. "What are you saying?" "I'm saying you're not just Cassian's wife anymore. You're a liability. And you need to decide, Anais-are you going to survive this marriage... or just stay married?" That night, Anais stared at herself in the mirror. Not the girl who'd signed a contract at twenty-four. Not the woman who fled at twenty-seven. Someone new. Someone who had to fight. Because if what Irene said was true... this wasn't just about fulfilling a contract anymore. It was about outwitting a room full of people who saw her as weak. And proving that the wife they thought they buried- Was back. And watching.