Chapter 1

Tonight was our tenth wedding anniversary. My husband, tech mogul Damon Ayers, booked the city's most expensive hotel for a lavish party.

He pulled me close for the cameras, whispering how much he loved me. A moment later, I watched him use the private code we developed together to flirt with his mistress, Kandy, right in front of me.

He left our party, lying about a work emergency, to meet her. The anniversary fireworks he set off? They were for her. The next day, she showed up at our house, pregnant. I watched through the window as a slow smile spread across his face. A few hours later, she sent me a photo of him on one knee, proposing to her.

He had always told me he wasn't ready for a child with me. For ten years, I was the perfect, supportive wife. I was also the cybersecurity expert who built the architecture that saved his company. He seemed to have forgotten that part.

As my car headed to the airport for my planned disappearance, we stopped at a red light. Next to us was a Rolls-Royce, decorated for a wedding. Inside were Damon and Kandy, in a tuxedo and a white dress. Our eyes met through the glass. His face went pale with shock.

I simply threw my phone out the window and told the driver to go.

Chapter 1

Tonight was our tenth wedding anniversary. Damon Ayers, my husband and a tech mogul, had booked the entire top floor of the city's most expensive hotel. The room was filled with the soft glow of candles and the murmur of polite conversation.

From the outside, we were the perfect couple. He was the charismatic CEO, and I was his supportive, quiet wife, Alana Howell.

A junior programmer from his company, a girl named Kandy Morris, walked past me. She smiled, a little too brightly.

"Mrs. Ayers, you look beautiful tonight. That dress is stunning."

Her words were polite, but her eyes held a challenge. They lingered on me for a moment too long. I knew who she was. I knew everything.

Damon came up behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist. He kissed my temple, his touch feeling like a lie.

"There's my gorgeous wife," he whispered, his voice smooth for the crowd.

He pulled me closer, a public display of affection that meant nothing. His hand was warm on my back, but I felt a chill spread through me.

I watched Kandy join a group of her colleagues. She glanced back at Damon, a smirk on her lips. Damon saw it and his smile tightened. He turned his attention back to a business partner, smoothly changing the subject.

He leaned in again, his breath warm against my ear.

"Stay by my side tonight, Alana. It looks good."

It wasn't a request. It was a command dressed up as an intimate moment. He needed the image of a perfect marriage to close the deal he was working on.

His business partners laughed at a joke he made. They all looked at me with admiring eyes, the loyal wife of a brilliant man. Their gazes made my skin crawl. I felt like an accessory, a prop in his perfect life.

My stomach churned. The expensive champagne I was holding tasted sour. I set the glass down, my hand trembling slightly. I quickly steadied it, hiding the reaction. No one could know.

I wasn't just a "tech wife." Before I met Damon, I was one of the best cybersecurity experts in a clandestine government agency. My skills weren't just for show; they were a part of me he had either forgotten or never truly understood.

I had known about the affair for six months. Kandy had gotten careless, or maybe bold. She started sending anonymous emails, photos of them together, little clues she thought were clever. She didn't know she was sending them to someone who could trace a digital footprint back to its source in minutes.

Instead of confronting them, I had been planning. My old mentor, Fredy Valdez, had helped me set up a "deep cover" protocol. A series of commands that, when triggered, would erase Alana Howell completely.

My phone vibrated in my clutch. A notification. I saw them talking across the room, Damon and Kandy, using the proprietary code jargon we had developed together. A language only he and I were supposed to share. He was using our secrets to talk to his mistress right in front of me.

That was it. The final piece.

I looked at my watch. The final countdown had begun. My new life would start in forty-eight hours.

Damon walked back over to me, his face a mask of loving concern.

"You look a little pale, honey. Are you feeling alright?"

His voice was so sincere. A perfect performance.

"Just a little tired," I said, my voice even.

I felt a bitter taste in my mouth. He was a stranger.

"I have a surprise for you later," he said, squeezing my hand.

I forced a smile. "I'm looking forward to it."

I wondered if he even remembered how we met. He probably saw me as just another part of his success story, the woman who stood by him. He had forgotten the woman who had built the security architecture that protected his entire company from collapse three years ago.

The air in the room felt thick, suffocating. I couldn't breathe with all the fake smiles and empty compliments.

"I need some fresh air," I told Damon, pulling my hand away.

He nodded, already turning to talk to someone else. "Don't be long."

As I walked toward the balcony, I overheard two women whispering.

"They're so perfect together. Ten years and still so in love."

Their words were meant to be a compliment, but they felt like a mockery.

I stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief. I leaned against the railing, looking out at the city lights. I felt nothing for the man inside. The love had died a slow, painful death over the past six months.

The whispers of the guests were just noise now. They saw a fairytale, but they had no idea about the lie it was built on.

The memory of the first time I saw evidence of the affair was still sharp. A photo in an anonymous email. Damon and Kandy, laughing in a cafe I had shown him, a place that was supposed to be ours. He had his arm around her, a look on his face I hadn't seen in years.

I had stared at that photo for an hour, the world around me silent. The pain was sharp, a physical ache in my chest.

I waited for him to come home that night, hoping for some explanation, any sign that it was a mistake. He walked in, kissed me on the cheek, and talked about his day as if nothing was wrong.

In that moment, I knew. I sat on the couch long after he went to sleep, the silence of the house pressing in on me. The grief was overwhelming, but then it slowly hardened into something else.

Numbness. And after the numbness, a cold, clear resolve.

This marriage wasn't just broken. It was over. And I wasn't going to leave with a fight. I was going to disappear.