SNATCHED FROM HER WORTHLESS HUSBAND

ALIANA

Seven years.

That's how long I've been Mrs. Dominic Blake - spouse, entertainer, decoration and mute.

If I reach heaven someday, I'm certain the angels will chuckle upon discovering that my greatest sin was loving my husband excessively.

I linger in the corner of the ballroom, the glass of white wine in my hand remaining full. My image glimmers on the glassy surface - serene, refined, impeccably poised - resembling the lifeless replica of the woman I once was.

Dominic's laughter cuts through the atmosphere. He's positioned across the hallway, his arm around the waist of a different woman. Her red dress hugs her curves as if she were sewn into it. I can't remember her name at all. There have been excessively many women hanging off his arm lately.

I don't waver. I simply take a sip of my wine.

"Are you still pretending to be a statue, Mrs. Blake?"

The sound originates from behind me - cutting, entertaining. It's Jenna, Dominic's sibling and the only individual who interacts with me genuinely instead of acting as if I'm unseen.

"Someone needs to ensure that the guests remember this is a Blake event," I say gently. "Dominic is too occupied... socializing."

Jenna lets out a snort. "Connecting with others?" "Is that what we're referring to as making out with the new intern now?"

I grin slightly. "I can't say." I'm not included in his meetings.

Her laughter fades as she examines my expression. "Ali, you cannot continue behaving this way."

"I'm okay."

"Actually, you are not." You've been okay for seven years. You're like those women from classic films who just smile while their husbands cheat with the maid.

I chuckle - softly, with bitterness. "I would need to be permitted in the same space for that to occur."

For a brief period, neither of us speaks. The orchestra grows louder, chandeliers sparkle, and Dominic bends close to murmur something to the woman that causes her to toss her head back and laugh. He appears relaxed - unlike how he usually is at home.

If I can truly refer to it as home.

Jenna exhales deeply. "I don't understand, Aliana." You're stunning. You possess a degree. If you wished, you could operate your own business. "Why stay?"

Because I'm foolish.

Because I believed love could mend a person who never sought to be mended.

"I took an oath," I responded in turn. "And I never go back on my word."

"Even when he does so?"

Her inquiry hurts. I look at my wedding band - simple platinum, without embellishments. I remember the weightiness as he placed it on my finger, his smile rigid, his gaze fixed on the cameras rather than on me.

"I suppose someone needs to maintain the stance," I murmur.

Jenna begins to speak up in disagreement, but then Dominic's voice resonates throughout the room.

"Ali!"

All heads swivel. My heart races despite my awareness at this point.

He gestures for me to come closer, smiling as if I'm his preferred ornament. The woman next to him remains on his arm, a lipstick stain already smeared close to his jaw.

I place my glass on the table and adjust my dress. "Time to shine," I whisper.

When I get to him, he pecks my cheek - chilly, practiced. "Darling, you recall Cassandra, don't you?" "She is the new public relations consultant."

Cassandra smiles brightly. "It's a joy making your acquaintance, Mrs. Blake." "Dominic has shared a lot about you with me."

I maintain a courteous smile. "I trust everything is well."

"Oh, certainly." He mentions that you're quite... encouraging."

I'm curious if "supportive" implies "endures public humiliation silently."

"Cassandra is coming with us on the Monte Carlo trip," Dominic adds, unaware. "She excels with global clients."

My gaze shifts to his. "The trip to Monte Carlo?" "The one we arranged months back?"

"Sure," he responds, sounding overly relaxed. "I expect it to be more effective to utilize a smaller group."

That means I'm not included. Once more.

"Certainly," I reply effortlessly. "You need effectiveness."

Cassandra chuckles. "Indeed, he is correct, you are very understanding and he's completely correct in his analysis."

Okay....Business and enjoyment. Frequently combined in the privacy of some hotels.

Dominic gives my back a pat - as if I'm a long-time coworker. "That's the reason I adore her," he proclaims, ensuring everyone can hear. "She comprehends."

The audience bursts into laughter. Naturally, understand my place as a distraction.

Later that evening, after the final glass sounds and the visitors have left, I position myself at the window of our penthouse, observing the city lights blend into the skyline. My reflection gazes back - serene, graceful, devoid of life.

Dominic enters, relaxing his tie. "You were silent this evening."

I rotate. "Should I have participated in your jokes?"

He gives a slight shrug. "You understand how these occasions are."

"Yes." I do so.... You flirt, they chuckle, and I grin so no one sees I'm unseen.

His gaze sharpens. "Please don't start, Aliana."

"I did not start anything." You accomplished that - seven years back."

"Don't act so theatrical," he murmurs, throwing his tie onto the sofa.

"I am acting theatrical?" I chuckle. "You kissed a different woman while I was there."

He looks at me as if I'm acting like a child. "It was business." PR."

"Oh, of course." You need to be extremely detailed in your public relations.

His patience breaks. "You were aware of what this marriage entailed, Aliana."

I gaze at him. "Refresh my memory, Dominic." What was that? A consolidation? A publicity gimmick? "A photo opportunity for your investors?"

He runs his fingers through his hair, appearing irritated instead of remorseful. "You consented to this."

"I accepted to be your spouse, not your shadow."

For the first time, a glimmer appears in his eyes - remorse, or perhaps compassion. He moves in nearer. "Let's keep this from getting ugly." You've received all you've ever desired - wealth, security, prestige-"

"Everything but love," I concluded gently.

He breathes out forcefully. " Love doesn't cover expenses."

"Not at all," I responded. "Yet it prevents people from breaking Dominic. I have loved you for a decade "

He remains silent. He simply looks away, picking up his phone.

"Are you phoning her?" I inquire.

He avoids making eye contact with me. "Go to bed, Aliana."

I agree. "Absolutely."

He steps outside, his image fading down the corridor, and I finally allow my breath to tremble. After years, I am not crying this time. I simply remain still - gazing at the skyline as if it's a chart of my own existence.

Perhaps it is.

The following morning, I rose before dawn. The bed on Dominic's side is chilly. He did not return home. Once more.

The housekeeper sets breakfast on the table - untasted. I sit there gazing at the uneaten toast and suddenly recognize something absurd: I can't remember the last time I had a meal I enjoyed.

I take out my phone, launch the browser, and enter:

"Accounting professionals being recruited by law firms."

I used to enjoy numbers - financial statements, trends, reasoning. They were logical when everything else was confusing. I scroll until a single name catches my attention.

Hamilton & Associates

The largest, most prestigious company in the nation. The one that people murmur about as if it's a celestial portal - inaccessible unless you're born into heritage or forged from iron.

"Excellent," I whisper. "I might require the unachievable."

I press Apply.

Three weeks later, I find myself in the lobby of Hamilton & Co., amidst individuals who appear to be sculpted from determination. My hands are clammy, my heart racing as if I'm betraying Dominic - yet, in truth, this is the first truly loyal choice I've made for myself in years.

The receptionist offers me a forced smile. "Mr. Hamilton is ready to see you now."

Hold on - Mr. Hamilton?

I thought that I would meet with a department leader. Not Michael Hamilton - the CEO who created a dynasty from legal battles and gossip.

"Um... thanks," I replied awkwardly, getting to my feet.

Upon entering his office, the atmosphere shifts. It's chillier, more silent. Everything is stylish - glass, metal, exactness.

He stands by the window, tall, striking, captivating in that inaccessible manner. The tabloids refer to him as the Ghost King - intelligent, relentless, unfeeling. And allegedly homosexual.

As he moves, his stare pierces through me - dark as ice, impossible to decipher.

"Mrs. Blake," he states.

My throat feels constricted. "You... are aware of my identity."

"I ensure that I know the names of all individuals who apply here." Particularly when they are wed to one of my rivals.

I gulp slowly. "Dominic Blake is not your rival." He manages a property business empire. You operate a legal practice.

"Anyone who can take away my client's attention over mine is competition," he responds straightforwardly.

His tone is serene, measured, as if each word is a strategic play. He motions toward the chair opposite his desk. "Take a seat."

I comply, sensing his gaze upon me as if it were a burden.

He examines my résumé quietly. The seconds elongate as if they were hours.

"You possess a top-notch degree," he finally states. "Why have you been unemployed for seven years?"

"Marriage," I confess. "My husband needed my assistance."

His eyebrows raise slightly. "You sacrificed your profession to assist him." "Impressive."

"Foolish," I amend.

For the first time, his lips quiver - not a grin precisely, but near enough. "You are honest."

"I've done plenty of rehearsing deceiving myself," I whisper.

He reclines in his chair, observing me with unsettling calmness. "Why choose Hamilton & Co.?"

"Since I must begin anew in a place that doesn't recognize me as his spouse."

He angles his head. "And you believe I don't follow the news?"

"I believe you don't care."

That gets me a genuine smirk. "You are correct." I do not.

The manner in which he articulates it sends a chill down my spine - not out of fear, but out of consciousness. As if the very air acknowledges him.

He shuts my file. "The salary is lower than what you're accustomed to."

"I'm not seeking luxury." Only intention.

He slowly nods, continuing to observe me. "You will begin on Monday."

I close my eyes briefly. "I-huh?"

"Monday." Ninety minutes past eight. "Make sure you're on time."

"Is it really that simple?"

"Just like that."

"Why so?"

Our eyes connect. "Because you don't look at me like other women do."

My heartbeat falters. "How do they look at you?"

"It's as if I'm a trophy," he remarks. "You look at me like I'm an issue."

"I didn't intend to-"

"Alright," he gently interjects. "Keep it like that."

He gets up, and I understand that the interview is over. I feel unbalanced in my legs as I stand up.

"Thanks, Mr. Hamilton."

"Michael," he adjusts. "You will be working closely with me."

I nod, attempting to breathe evenly. "Certainly."

As I begin to walk away, his voice halts me. "Ms. Blake."

I look back.

He observes me silently. "Whatever you're running from... ensure it doesn't come after you here."

For a moment, I am silent. I nod briefly and exit before he notices the shake in my hands.

That evening, Dominic is already back when I enter - an unusual situation. He's at the bar, browsing on his phone.

"You're late," he remarks without glancing up.

"I went for a job interview."

He looks up suddenly. "Job interview?"

"Yes." "I got the position."

His phone falls onto the counter. "Sorry?"

"At Hamilton & Co.," I remark, maintaining a cheerful tone. "I begin on Monday."

His gaze tightens. "Are you kidding?"

"I am not."

"Why on earth would you need a job?"

"Because I'm fed up with being your charity case."

He gets up suddenly. "Aliana-"

"No...," I interjected. "You can't say my name as if it still belongs to you."

His face becomes stern. "You are my wife."

"Only in name." "Your mistresses attend more often than I do."

"Don't distort this."

"Go ahead and explain it!" I break, my voice trembling. "Clarify why I've been a background figure in your life for seven years!"

His jaw clenches. "You understood what this was."

"Absolutely not, Dominic." "I believed you would eventually love me."

The quietness that ensues is overwhelming. He looks at me as if I'm a stranger.

"I have provided you with all that I have," he finally states.

"Not all of it," I murmur. "You never offered me yourself."

And before he has the chance to speak again, I step out.

The city's atmosphere strikes me as frigid, piercing, and tangible. I have no idea where I'm headed - only that, for the first time in years, my life seems to be mine.

I gaze at the skyscraper on the opposite side of the street - Hamilton Tower, its glass panes shimmering in the night.

Somewhere above, Michael Hamilton is likely to be working, unaffected by feelings or turmoil.

And here I stand, on the same street, devoid of all that I believed I required.

Perhaps it's unwise. Perhaps it's destiny. However, I am certain of one thing:

No matter what occurs next, I refuse to return to being unseen.

Never again.

MICHAEL

It is said that every experience has its first occurrence.

First love.

First heartbreak.

The moment you understand your body has forsaken several years of meticulous discipline by reacting to a woman you've known for precisely seventeen minutes.

I woke up at three a.m. in a frenzied state, not due to a nightmare - but due to something more terrifying. I experienced an erection.

Not only the morning variety. No. This was... intentional."" Emotional. A breathing slap to all the years living like a monk.

All I could see was her face.

Aliana Blake.

By nine a.m., I found myself in my doctor's office, much like a man anticipating his verdict.

Dr. Ethan Cole - a lifelong companion, Harvard alumnus, devilish in a white coat - reclined in his chair, staring at me.

"Let me clarify this," he spoke deliberately, holding back a smile. "You arrived here due to having an erection?"

I frowned. "Don't say it that way."

He leaned his head. "How am I supposed to say it, then?" "'Congratulations, your reproductive system has restarted after sleeping for a decade?'"

"I'm not joking, Ethan."

"Oh, I am aware you are not." "That's what makes this so enjoyable." He laughed softly as he opened my file. "Michael Hamilton, thirty-three years old, CEO, suffers from chronic insomnia, emotionally repressed, and now... biologically awakened." "Explain to me once more why this is an issue?"

"Since it's illogical," I retorted. "I've never responded to anyone in that manner."

He lifted an eyebrow. "And this 'anyone' refers to-?"

I paused. "A woman who submitted a job application yesterday."

He let out a soft whistle. "Wow, Mike." You've finally developed feelings - or at least increased blood flow - for an employee?"That's an emotional remark, even coming from you."

"It's not emotions," I whispered. "It's a disruption in chemicals." "I want the tests run on me."

Ethan's eyes fluttered. "Tests."

"Yes. Hormonal substances. Lab tests. "Brain scans if needed."

He inclined forward, placing his elbows on the table. "You believe a woman gave you... what, a hormonal illness?"

"I'm serious, Ethan."

He looked at me for a second - then suddenly started laughing. "Oh my gosh, you really mean it!"

I stared fiercely. "You're supposed to be a healthcare expert."

"I am. That's why I'm diagnosing you with your initial case of being human.

"Stop being foolish."

"Michael," he remarked, drying his tears, "you've claimed for years that you were asexual. You turned down every date, evaded every headline, and frightened every woman within a hundred-mile area. Now a beautiful stranger enters, and your-" he motioned subtly toward my waist "-system reactivates, and your immediate reaction is to request a CAT scan?"

"Yes."

He chuckled while shaking his head. "You're hilarious."

I folded my arms. "Are you conducting the tests or not?"

"Oh, I'm conducting them." "I'm also preserving this tale for your biography."

An hour later, I found myself on the exam table as a nurse collected samples as if I were trying out for a medical mystery series. Ethan sang happily next to her.

"You know," he remarked, "your folks are going to enjoy this."

I became motionless. "Why are you discussing my parents?"

"They have been convinced for years that you have a chemical defect."

"I'm not defective. " "I am productive."

"They forwarded your hormone panels to me biannually," he reminded me. "They pleaded with me to discover a remedy for your 'disdain for love.'" "Last spring, your mom even sent a specialist in fertility to my office."

"I terminated his employment."

"I know." You also prohibited him from all hospitals within a fifty-mile radius.

"He violated confidentiality."

"He inquired whether you possessed any soft furnishings." "You made a threat to take legal action against him."

"Precisely," I replied monotonously. "Improper behaviour."

Ethan smiled. "The point is - if your parents discover you've ultimately... replied, they'll celebrate with a parade."

"They aren't finding out about it."

"Come on, Mike, allow me to call them." Only a single call. I will inform them that their son, in fact, is not a robot."

"No."

"Could you please agree?"

"No."

He let out a theatrical sigh. "You're ruining the best day of my professional life."

"Do the damn tests."

Upon receiving the results, he gazed at the papers as if they were a script for a comedy show.

"Is there something wrong?" I insisted.

He glanced upward, beaming quite broadly. "You're in excellent health."

"I was aware of that."

"Testosterone levels within normal range, hormone equilibrium perfect, neurological reactions acute." "Michael, you aren't ill."

I breathed out. "Alright."

"Actually..." He grinned. "You're irritatingly well." "Such as, maximum masculinity intensity."

"Stop speaking."

"I refuse." You've been lacking spirit for ten years, and now you're-" he clicked his fingers "-ready to go.

"Ethan."

"Allow me this, Mike." Are you aware of how many years I've had to deceive your parents about your 'mental abstinence'? "Your mother once inquired whether you were secretly a monk."

"She's theatrical."

"She wept on the phone last Christmas since you told her that relationships are unproductive."

"They are."

He gestured towards me with pretend blame. "Nevertheless, efficiency has just resigned due to a woman."

I massaged my temples. "You're unbearable."

He reclined, feeling pleased with himself. "Now, share with me your thoughts on her."

"Not at all."

"Come on now." "I am entitled to at least a name."

"You will get nothing."

"Alright," he replied, feigning a pout. "I'll simply conclude on it." You mentioned she applied for a position. Thus, she is intelligent. "Self-assured enough to endure an interview with you, which limits it to... three individuals globally."

I disregarded him.

He persisted, unshaken. "Does she have blonde hair?" Dark-haired? "Respiration?"

"Stop making assumptions."

"Is there a pulse present?"

"Ethan."

He chuckled. "Alright, alright." "Out of curiosity regarding the medical aspect - did this... incident occur right after you saw her, or was it afterwards?"

I stared harshly. "At once."

"Oh wow!" He smiled broadly. "It's visual, then." "That's an improvement."

"Ethan."

"Okay," he repeated, raising his hands. "I'll stop the teasing." "But, dude-" he laughed "-you're totally in trouble."

I scowled. "Watch your tongue, bro."

"I'm not implying anything disrespectful. Hear me out." He leaned in, smiling. "You've spent your entire life without experiencing attraction." Now it's struck you like a runaway train. "You're not prepared for this."

"I'm handling it."

"You're losing control."

"I'm handling things effectively."

"Mm-hmm." He folded his arms. "What's your strategy, then?" "Dismiss her before your biology starts to revolt?"

"I have already employed her."

He became immobile. "You did what?"

"I employed her."

"Mike!" He moaned. "You're beyond help." "You're essentially residing in a romantic comedy crafted by a tax inspector."

"I needed an accountant," I replied defensively.

"You needed therapy."

"Which I possess." You. Regrettably.

He made a snorting sound. "Glad to help."

Ethan was not mistaken.

I wasn't prepared for this.

When I exited his office, my mind felt like a war zone of reasoning and strange warmth. I had dedicated my life to mastering control - of my business, my reputation, and my instincts. Attraction was sound; I didn't engage with sound.

Up until her.

Aliana Blake entered my office yesterday, calm and collected, and somehow shattered all that I had created. It wasn't solely her beauty - although, undeniably, she was breathtaking. It was her calmness. Her gaze pierced me as if she could see beyond the shield that others revered.

It wasn't yearning precisely - it was intrigue tinged with risk.

And it seems my body chose to perceive that as fireworks.

I returned to the office, disregarding Ethan's messages.

ETHAN: Alright, I'll hold off for a week.

I silenced him.

Upon getting back to work, disregarding Ethan's constant messages:

ETHAN: Just verifying if you're still around or if she did you in with a spreadsheet.

ETHAN: Is it time to send a baby announcement to your parents?

ETHAN: Alright, I'll hold on for a week.

I silenced him.

Upon entering my office, my elderly assistant, Lydia, was organizing the mail. She halted when she noticed me. "Sir, you're... ahead of schedule."

"Was I required to seek approval?"

"N-no, I just- you typically come after ten."

"I was accompanied by Dr. Cole."

Her eyebrows lifted. "Oh. "Concerns about health?"

"Biological perplexity," I whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't worry about it." "Has Mrs. Blake arrived yet?"

Lydia glanced. "Mrs. Blake... your recent recruit?"

"Yes."

"She's located in Conference Room Two." "Examining account books."

I nodded and began to stroll, disregarding the light thump in my chest. It wasn't anxiety. It was an upset stomach, at least I hope so.

Upon arriving at the glass door, I hesitated. She sat there - hair tied back, attentive, elegant. She was drawing shapes on a tablet, her lips moving as she silently computed.

No cosmetics, no facade. Simply serene intellect.

For some reason, my heartbeat chose to practice for a marathon.

Wonderful.

She glanced up and saw me observing.

"Mr. Hamilton," she exclaimed, rising hurriedly. "Good morning."

"Good morning," I remarked, my tone completely even. "How is your experience on the first day going?"

"Demanding," she acknowledged. "However... fine."

"Great."

Silence...

She looked at the folder she was holding. "The company's financial division is remarkable." I'm still outlining the business expenditures, but your documentation is-"

She stopped once she noticed I wasn't paying attention. I was too occupied gazing. Her voice was soft and distinct, and the type that made numbers resonate like poetry.

I coughed gently. Sure, that's the term."

"Are you alright, sir?"

"Okay," I nodded. "Alright- good."

She nodded, going back to her tasks, and I understood something frightening: I wished to continue listening to her discussion of costs.

I exited the room to avoid doing something foolish, such as smiling.

When I returned to my office, Lydia was offering a file. "Sir, Dr. Cole is on the line."

I sighed. "What does he want?"

"He stated - and I quote - 'Inform Michael that his tests confirm he's a completely capable adult male and his parents can stop submitting his baby pictures to science.'"

I shut my eyes. "I'm going to kill this idiot."

"There's additional information," she remarked, concealing a smile. "He further remarked, 'If he refuses to allow me to contact his parents, let him know I'll disclose his results to the media with the title: BILLIONAIRE UNCOVERS BLOOD FLOW.'"

I whispered a curse. Lydia attempted to suppress her laughter.

"Delete all messages from him," I instructed. "Block his number."

"Yes, sir."

"Also, send a legal notice to him."

"Have it already written."

I nearly smiled. "Excellent."

By lunchtime, Ethan had phoned six times. I eventually responded because I realized he would appear in person if I didn't.

"Please don't disconnect," he said right away. "I only need thirty seconds."

"You have ten."

"I simply wanted to inform you that your outcomes have been stored in your medical record with the designation 'Miracle of 2025.'"

"Remove it."

"Not ever."

"Ethan-"

"Additionally, your mother reached out to me."

I became motionless. "What did you say?"

"She was curious to find out if I had received any news from you." "I might have... suggested that there's positive information."

My heart rate surged. "You did not."

"She was in tears, Mike."I was unable to resist."

"Ethan!"

"She believes you've met someone!"

"I'm ending the call."

"Do not even think about it!" She is organizing a family meal.

"Goodbye."

"Mike-"

Press.

I flung my phone onto the desk, breathing out through gritted teeth.

This was going downhill.

That night, I caught myself walking back and forth in my penthouse, a half-full glass of scotch in my grip, revisiting every word Aliana spoke that morning.

Why on earth did those words seem to imply something deeper?

I looked at the mirror. My image appeared unchanged - pristine suit, calm expression, eyes overly perceptive. Yet within me something had shattered.

Perhaps Ethan was correct. Perhaps I wasn't broken merely.....experiencing lust.

However, attraction was not included in the plan. I didn't engage in chaos. I created structure, accuracy, and organization and she is chaos itself.

Still, for the very first time in my life, I desired chaos- the sort of chaos she brought.

My phone vibrated. A message from Ethan.

ETHAN: Just one more thing. If your "condition" deteriorates, contact me before you make any foolish decisions.

I responded: Clarify what you mean by stupid.

ETHAN: Anything related to emotions.

I grinned. Sure thing.

Yet, as I switched off the lights and looked at the skyline, I found it hard to forget Aliana's voice - peaceful, unwavering, completely distinct from everyone else's.

Throughout my entire existence, I had existed like a machine, impervious to longing or love. I had persuaded myself that I was unaffected.

Yet at that moment, a single meeting had shattered that illusion for one woman.

Perhaps Ethan would see it as improvement.

Perhaps my parents would refer to it as a miracle.

Perhaps I ought to reach out to a therapist.

Yet, beneath it all, I understood the reality:

I love this feeling, and I'd never let her go.

ALIANA

"Wow, I haven't seen you this vibrant in ages," Jenna states, lowering her sunglasses as she examines me as if I'm one of the figures in the shop window. "I swear by god Aliana, you shine." "Who is this person who has made you like this?"

I chuckled, fixing the silk top she'd persuaded me to wear. "There's no him, Jenna."

"Oh, there's always a guy," she replies with understanding. "You have been trapped in a marriage without love for seven years." One ordinary morning, you rise, discard the unseen widow's veil, and begin to smile once more? "Sweetheart, those aren't vitamins - that's a guy."

Sighing dramatically, I spin around in front of the mirror. The top hugs in all the right areas, smooth champagne satin on my skin, accentuating the gentle curve of my waist. For a brief instant, I barely recognise myself. I have colour in my cheeks once more.

"Would you mind not saying 'loveless marriage' so loudly?" I murmur. "The walls are listening."And ears that love to gossip."

Jenna's laughter is so thunderous that heads swivel. "You believe I'm afraid of your husband?" He's fortunate I'm not the person he married. "I would have burnt him by the second year."

I couldn't help but laugh out loud. "You would have ended up in prison by the third year."

"True," she states. "However, in all seriousness, take a look at yourself." You're beautiful, Aliana. "The world is ready to witness you once more."

She raises her phone before I can object, taking picture after picture while I partially conceal myself behind a clothes rack.

"Jenna, stop!" I declare, making an attempt to take her phone. "I look like I'm modeling for a women's fragrance advertisement aimed at recalling their value."

"That's precisely what you are," she replies, scrolling through filters quicker than my mind can comprehend. "We're sharing this because it's outrageous that the world is unaware of what a strong beautiful woman you truly are." she says, swiping through filters quicker than my mind can keep up. "We are sharing this because it's outrageous that the world isn't aware of the fierce person you've turned into."

"Do not even think about-"

Tap. Post.

"It's too late," she remarks with a mischievous smile. "Welcome back to civilization after your debut." Hashtag: finally liberated, hashtag: glowupqueen, hashtag: DominicWho?

I moan. "You're a troublemaker."

She wraps her arm around me with affection. "I'm your avenger. You're too nice. Just get a divorce already."

We move through the aisles, laughter mingling with the soft background of the shop's music. Jenna is a powerhouse - captivating, compelling, all that I once was before I married her brother. Before, I centred my whole existence on trying to hold onto a man who didn't wish to be held.

"Give this a shot," she suggests, showcasing a red dress that ought to be banned. "Should Dominic catch sight of you in this, he'll gag on his lover's fragrance."

"Which one is it?" I inquire in a flat tone.

"Oh, look alive darling, you'd love the person you'll see in the mirror." She replies, straight-faced, and we both burst into laughter.

As I enter the fitting room, I feel a mix of anxiety and curiosity. The dress clings to me as if it has spent its entire existence eager to make a statement. The neckline plunges boldly, and the backless design seems nearly rebellious.

Jenna lets out a whistle as I walk outside. "Oh. Mine. Deity. That's all. That's the one. "Aliana, you look like the offspring of vengeance and redemption."

I can't suppress the grin that appears on my face. For a change, I understand what she means. I appear... strong. Similar to the woman I misplaced amid concession and sorrow.

"Okay," I reply gently. "I will accept it."

Jenna inhales sharply. "She said that she would accept it!" "Somebody notify the media!"

When we finish, the couch next to the cashier is filled with shopping bags. Gowns, pumps, and even undergarments - all thanks to Jenna's insistence.

"You can't go without lingerie," she'd stated. "Every uprising begins with lace."

I nod in disbelief, face flushed as the sales assistant wraps the final pair - black, lacy, outrageous.

"Jenna," I whisper. "That's absurd." "Who is this for?"

"Yourself," she replies right away. "Or the next individual fortunate enough to witness it." Regardless, it's not in vain.

Her words resonate more profoundly than I anticipated. Perhaps it was because for such a long time, all my actions were for Dominic - wearing modest attire since he liked it, smiling even when I felt like yelling, and quietly blending into the background while he stood out.

Not anymore.

I dig into my bag for my card, experiencing an unusual sense of pride. "Okay, let me settle my bill before you persuade me to purchase everything in the shop."

The cashier grabs my card but hesitates, appearing puzzled. "Um, ma'am?"

"Yes?"

"Your bill has been taken care of."

Jenna closes and opens her eyes. "What did you say?"

"Taken care of?" I reply, scowling. "By whom?"

The cashier verifies the system. "Michael Hamilton."

For a moment, I truly believe I misunderstood. "Excuse me - who?"

"Mr. Hamilton Michael, ma'am." He called previously and directed that your purchases be billed to his account. He stated, and I quote, 'Ensure she doesn't disagree.'"

Jenna's mouth hangs open. "Wow, I can't believe this."

"What on earth-how did he even-" I stutter.

Jenna nearly shrieks. "You indeed have a man!"

"I do not!" I exclaim, warmth rushing to my face. "I encountered him once for an interview!" "That's unbelievable!"

"Unbelievably romantic," she amends, grasping her heart. "Billionaire enigmatic figure covers all expenses while you're on your journey of self-discovery?" "Darling, this feels like a Wattpad fantasy."

I shake my head, feeling overwhelmed, gazing at the neatly arranged bags that clearly aren't mine to pay for.

Michael Hamilton. The mysterious CEO who possessed half the city's skyline, the individual whose image appeared on Forbes covers, and never appears with any woman despite keeping his distance has been keeping tabs on me.

"You won't be going anywhere without more lingerie," she'd stated.

I shake my head, face flushed as the sales clerk wraps the final pair - black, intricate, daring.

"Jenna," I whisper urgently. "That's absurd." "To whom am I dressing like this for again?"

"Like I said, yourself," she replies right away.

Before I can formulate thoughts, a well-known deep voice cuts through the atmosphere.

"Well, isn't this unexpected."

I turn around, and my heartbeat falters. Dominic is at the doorway, with his arm wrapped around a tall brunette I don't recognize. She's chuckling at something he mentioned until she notices me - and stops in her tracks.

"Aliana," Dominic says nonchalantly, his gaze darting across the shopping bags. "Didn't think I would run into you here."

"I didn't think I'd find you sober," I remarked before I could hold my tongue.

Jenna lets out a snort.

The brunette moves uncomfortably, attempting to free her hand from his arm, but Dominic holds on tighter. "You're out shopping," he remarks, as if it's illegal. "Alongside my sister."

"I was invited by your sister," I state calmly. "You don't control my weekends."

His jaw clenches. "However, I'm still watchful of my funds."

I grab one of the bags and smile gently. "Actually, someone else cares.

He scowls. "What is that meant to imply?"

Jenna advances, as arrogant as always. "It signifies that someone truly values her enough to invest in her happiness." "Give it a shot one of these days, brother."

Dominic's nostrils expand. "Jenna-"

"Keep it," she retorts. "You had the opportunity to treat her well."You opted for the display of fragrance-laden pests instead."

The brown-haired girl lets out a slight indignant noise, but Jenna dismisses her.

I ought to be upset. Or sad or envious. However, I do not. I simply feel... fed up.

"Have fun with your shopping," I say as I turn away. "I have places to get to."

Dominic takes hold of my wrist, speaking softly. "Do you believe that leaving resolves anything?" "You are still my wife, Aliana."

I gaze directly into his eyes. "Only in name, remember?"

His expression wavers, if only for a moment - that familiar sense of control he once held over me vanished like vapour.

Then I break away and stroll off, the sound of Jenna's heels tapping victoriously next to me.

Outdoors, the refreshing wind feels like a cleansing ritual. Jenna interlocks her arm with mine, smiling widely.

"You managed that like royalty," she remarks. "I've fantasized about putting Dominic in his place for years, but you?"You accomplished it in heels."

I chuckle unsteadily. "I hadn't even thought it through, but I feel relieved ".

"That's your true self," she replies gently. "Not the silent shadow he attempted to portray you as."

I breathe out, gripping my bags. "I'm not sure what is going on anymore." "Michael covering all the costs, Dominic arriving... I simply hoped for a peaceful day of shopping."

Jenna pushes me softly. "Perhaps the universe determined it was the moment for your lead role and that love would find you again. I believe Michael Hamilton has a thing for you."

I look at her, part entertained, and unsure. "Do you honestly believe I'm prepared for that?"

She grins. "Oh, sweetheart. You were destined for it. "You simply overlooked it."

While we walk towards her car, I can't shake off my thoughts about Michael - the man who financed my defiance without a request. The guy I hardly know yet can't help but think about it endlessly.

For years, I pleaded with Dominic for bits of love, for evidence that I mattered more than just utility. And what now?

A stranger had done more for me in a single quiet gesture than my husband had in all seven years.