The Billionaire's Forsaken Wife

ROOSEVELT'S POV

The rich smell of rosemary and sizzling butter filled the dining room, but I couldn't bring myself to take a bite. My focus was entirely on the man sitting across from me, Zyran.

The soft light from the chandelier reflected off his raven-black hair, perfectly styled even after a long day at work. He had taken off his suit jacket, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong, veined forearms that flexed slightly as he cut into his steak. He looked like a masterpiece crafted by a god, sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and lips that typically formed a firm line.

He was breathtaking, he was powerful and he was mine.

Today was our fourth wedding anniversary. Usually, Zyran would have his assistant send a gift, a diamond necklace or a designer bag, and we would go about our separate lives. But this year, I had asked for something different. I wanted time. Just a cozy dinner at home, cooked by me.

Despite his busy schedule running an empire that covered half the globe, Zyran had actually agreed. He came home early. That small gesture made my heart flutter like a trapped bird.

I chose to sit directly across from him instead of at the head of the table. I wanted to see every change in his expression, every flicker in those dark, guarded eyes when I finally shared the news that threatened to burst out.

My hand moved subconsciously to my flat stomach beneath the silk of my dress.

I'm pregnant.

I found out just this morning. The two pink lines on the test felt like the answer to every prayer I had whispered in the dark for the last four years. Zyran was distant, yes. He was cold, and sometimes looking at him felt like staring at a beautiful ice sculpture that I couldn't touch. But a baby? A baby changes everything. A child would be the bridge to finally reach his heart, the warmth that could melt his icy exterior.

"You're staring, Roosevelt," Zyran's deep voice broke through my thoughts, surprising me.

I blinked rapidly, feeling warmth rise to my cheeks. I hadn't realized I was zoning out.

"I... I was just happy," I stammered, picking up my wine glass to occupy my trembling hands. I took a sip of water instead of the wine, reminding myself that I had to avoid alcohol now. "It's nice to have you here. Just us."

Zyran didn't look up right away. He took another bite of the meal I had spent three hours preparing-pan-seared wagyu with a truffle reduction. I held my breath. I wasn't a professional chef, I was an interior designer. I spent my days arranging furniture, not sweating over a hot stove. But tonight, I wanted everything to be perfect.

He chewed slowly, swallowed, and finally lifted his gaze to meet mine.

"The steak is excellent," he said calmly. "Better than the chef at that fancy bistro we went to last month."

My heart did a somersault. A compliment? From Zyran? That was as rare as a snowstorm in July.

"Really?" I gasped, a wide smile spreading across my face. "I tried a new recipe. I know how picky you are about the texture, so I made sure not to overcook it."

"It's perfect," he said, and for a brief moment, the hard lines around his eyes seemed to soften. "You have a talent for detail, Roosevelt. Whether it's designing a room or plating a meal, you always put in effort."

The way he said effort made it sound like the highest praise.

"Thank you, Zyran. That means a lot coming from you," I said softly, my voice thick with emotion.

He swirled the red wine in his glass, his eyes following the crimson liquid. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble, though. I would have been fine with takeout if it meant you didn't wear yourself out. You look... pale."

He noticed?

Excitement bubbled in my throat. This was it. The perfect opening, he was being attentive, complimenting me, and worried about my health. The atmosphere was just right.

I set my fork down and clasped my hands together on the table, leaning in slightly.

"Actually, Zyran, there's a reason I wanted tonight to be special," I started, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. "There's something I've been dying to tell you."

Zyran paused, his glass halfway to his lips. He set it down slowly, his dark eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Oh? Is it about your design firm? Did you land that contract with the Hilton group?"

"No, it's not work," I said, shaking my head. A nervous laugh escaped me. "It's about us. About our family."

I reached for my purse, sitting on the floor beside my chair, my fingers brushing against the small box that held the positive pregnancy test.

"Zyran," I whispered, my eyes shining with unshed tears of joy. "I know we haven't always been the most conventional couple. I know you like your space and your order. But... I think things are about to get a little chaotic, in the best way."

I pulled the box out and placed it on the table, sliding it gently toward him.

"Happy Anniversary, Zyran."

He looked at the velvet box, then back at me. His expression was unreadable, that familiar mask slipping back into place. He reached out, his long fingers hovering over the lid.

I held my breath, imagining the smile that would light up his face. I pictured him standing up, coming over to my side of the table, and pulling me into his arms. I imagined him placing a hand on my stomach and finally, finally telling me he loved me.

But just as his fingers touched the box, the loud, intrusive ringtone of his phone shattered the silence.

Zyran froze.

It was his personal cell phone. Only a handful of people had that number.

"Ignore it," I whispered urgently, a sudden dread pooling in my stomach. "Please, Zyran. Just open the box first."

But the spell was broken. Zyran frowned, glancing at the screen. His eyes widened, a reaction so raw and shocked that it terrified me more than his anger ever could.

He didn't open the box. He grabbed the phone, answering it before I could say another word.

"Hello?" he said, his voice urgent.

I didn't know who was on the other end, but I watched color drain from my husband's face. The warmth that had been there moments ago evaporated, replaced by a frantic intensity I had never seen aimed at me.

"Where are you?" he demanded into the phone, standing up so suddenly that his chair scraped against the floorboards. "Stay there. Don't move, I'm coming."

He hung up and looked at me, but it was as if he wasn't really seeing me. He was looking through me.

"Zyran?" I asked, my voice shaking. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I have to go," he said, already moving toward the door, grabbing his jacket.

"Go? Now?" I stood up, panic tightening my chest. "But... the dinner. The gift. Zyran, I haven't told you the news yet!"

He paused at the archway of the dining room, turning back. His eyes were wild, distracted. "I'm sorry, Roosevelt, something came up. It's an emergency."

"What kind of emergency is more important than our anniversary?" I shouted, hurt sharpening my voice. "Who called you?"

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. "An old friend. She... she's in trouble."

She.

The word hung in the air like a blade.

"I'll make it up to you," he said before turning and walking out the door.

I stood there in the silent dining room, the scent of the cold steak making me feel sick. The box sat unopened on the table, right where he had left it.

I wasn't alone in the room, but for the first time in four years, I felt completely and utterly abandoned.

I waited for three hours. The candles on the table had burned all the way down, leaving small pools of wax on the tablecloth. The beautiful steak was cold and hard now.

I slowly stood up and began cleaning the table. My hands shook as I scraped the food into the trash. I felt foolish. I felt small. I touched the box in my pocket again. The pregnancy test was still there, now a heavy secret instead of a joyful one.

Just as I turned off the lights in the dining room, I saw headlights flash through the front window. A car engine roared in the driveway.

My heart skipped a beat. He came back.

"Zyran," I whispered. Maybe he realized his mistake. Maybe he returned to apologize and have dessert with me.

I rushed to the front door and opened it before he could knock.

"Zyran, I'm so glad you-"

My words stuck in my throat.

Zyran stood there, but he wasn't alone. He had his arm around a woman. She was small and thin, with long brown hair that hung over her face. She wore a white dress that looked dirty at the hem, and she sobbed quietly into Zyran's chest.

Zyran looked up at me, he didn't seem sorry. He looked tired and serious.

"Roosevelt," he said, his voice sharp. "Move aside, we need to get inside."

I stepped back, confused. "Zyran? Who is this?"

He guided the woman into our hallway. The bright light from the chandelier illuminated her face. She was beautiful, in a fragile and broken way. She looked like a doll needing protection.

"This is Mina," Zyran said. "She's the friend who called. Her apartment caught fire, she has nowhere else to go."

Mina looked at me through her tears. Her eyes were big and innocent, but something about her gaze made my stomach turn.

"I... I am sorry to intrude," Mina said, her voice soft and shaky. "I didn't mean to ruin your night."

"You aren't ruining anything," Zyran said firmly, pulling her closer to him. He turned to me. "Roosevelt, go prepare the guest room, the one next to ours."

A sharp pain shot through my chest. "The one next to ours? Zyran, that room isn't ready. And... it's our anniversary night. Can't she stay in a hotel?"

Zyran's eyes turned cold. "She's traumatized, Roosevelt. I am not sending her to a hotel alone. Just do as I say."

He didn't wait for my response. He walked past me, leading Mina toward the stairs. I stood there, frozen. My husband brought another woman into our home on our anniversary, treating me like a maid.

I clenched my fists and followed them up the grand staircase. "Zyran, we need to talk about this. You can't just-"

"Not now," he snapped. He reached the top of the landing. "I need to get her some water. Stay with her."

Zyran let go of Mina and hurried down the hall toward the bathroom, leaving me alone with her on the stairs.

The hallway was quiet, the only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs.

I looked at Mina, I wanted to be kind and act like the good wife. But I felt angry.

"I hope you are okay," I said stiffly. "But my husband and I were celebrating tonight."

Mina stopped crying immediately. She straightened up and wiped her tears away. Suddenly, the innocent look on her face vanished. A cold, dark smile appeared on her lips.

She stepped closer to me, we stood right at the edge of the stairs.

"He talks about you, you know," Mina said. Her voice was no longer shaky, it was smooth and mocking. "He says you are dutiful. Boring."

"Excuse me?" I gasped. I couldn't believe what I heard.

Mina tilted her head to the side. "If we were both in danger, who do you think Zyran would save first?" she asked suddenly.

"What?"

I didn't have time to process her words.

In the next moment, I saw her hand shoot out. I felt a hard, violent push on my chest.

"Ah!"

I lost my balance instantly. My feet slipped at the edge of the step. I reached for the railing, but I was too late.

The world spun around me as I fell backward, skidding off the stairs and plunging into the darkness below.

My body hit the wooden floor at the bottom of the stairs with a hard, dull sound. A sharp pain shot through my ankle, and my head spun.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what had just happened.

"Roosevelt!"

I heard heavy footsteps running down the hallway. Zyran appeared above me, his face was pale. For a moment, I saw panic in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He knelt beside me, his hands hovering over my arms. "What happened? Did you slip?"

I gritted my teeth against the pain and looked up past him. Mina was standing at the top of the stairs. She had one hand over her mouth, and her eyes were wide with fake shock.

"She pushed me," I gasped. I grabbed Zyran's sleeve. "Zyran, she pushed me."

Zyran frowned. He looked up at Mina, then back at me. His expression shifted from worry to annoyance.

"Roosevelt, don't be ridiculous," he said in a low, stern voice. "Mina can barely stand, how could she push you?"

"I'm telling you the truth!" I cried, trying to sit up. A wave of nausea hit me, and I remembered the baby. My hand flew to my stomach. "She looked me in the eye and pushed me."

"I didn't!" Mina wailed from the top of the stairs. She started to cry, her shoulders shaking. "I tried to catch her! She tripped on her dress. Oh my god, Zyran, I think she hates me!"

Zyran let go of my arm and stood up abruptly. He didn't help me off the floor. Instead, he looked at me with disappointment.

"Look what you have done," Zyran said coldly. "You have upset her."

"I upset her?" I asked, my voice cracking. "Zyran, I'm the one on the floor. I'm the one who is hurt!"

"You are strong, Roosevelt. You always have been," he said, dismissing my pain with a wave of his hand. "Mina just lost her home in a fire. She is traumatized. And now you are accusing her of violence? That is beneath you."

He walked past me, actually leaving me sitting on the floor. He went up a few steps and reached out a hand to Mina.

"Come down, Mina. It's okay," he said softly. His voice was gentle the same way he used to speak to me. "She didn't mean it, she is just tired."

Mina slowly walked down the stairs, pretending to be terrified. She took Zyran's hand and hid behind his arm, peeking at me.

As Zyran turned his head to check the front door lock, Mina looked at me. She wasn't crying anymore. Instead, she gave me that same dark, satisfied smirk she wore before she pushed me.

She had won. She knew exactly how to play him.

"Zyran," I said, forcing myself to stand up. My ankle throbbed, but I pushed through the pain. "My ankle is swollen and I don't feel well. I need to go to the hospital."

I had to check on the baby. I had to know if the fall had hurt my child.

Zyran looked at his watch and sighed. "It's late, Roosevelt. It's probably just a sprain. We have ice packs in the freezer."

"But-"

"Mina is shaking," Zyran interrupted me, his voice firm. "I need to get her settled in the guest room to make sure she doesn't go into shock. Can you please just put some ice on your ankle and stop making a scene? We will discuss your clumsiness in the morning."

My mouth dropped open. "My clumsiness? Zyran, I am your wife!"

"Then act like one," he snapped. "Be gracious. Be kind to our guest."

He put his arm around Mina's waist to support her. "Let's go, Mina, you need to rest."

I watched them walk away from me. I watched my husband choose to comfort a woman who had just tried to hurt me, while I stood there in pain on our anniversary night.

A tear slid down my cheek, but I wiped it away angrily. I wouldn't cry, not in front of her.

I limped toward the kitchen to get the ice pack, feeling more alone than I ever had in my life. But as I reached the kitchen door, a sharp cramp ripped through my lower stomach. This pain was different. It felt deep and terrifying.

I grabbed the doorframe, gasping for air.

"Zyran!" I called, my voice filled with sudden fear.

"I said enough, Roosevelt!" he shouted back from the living room, not even looking.

The cramp came again, harder this time. I looked down at my white dress.

There, blooming on the silk fabric like a terrible red flower, was a small spot of blood.

The pain in my stomach was sharp, like a knot being pulled tight. I slumped against the kitchen doorframe, clutching my belly.

"Zyran..." I whispered. The room was spinning.

I heard footsteps, Zyran ran into the kitchen. He didn't look angry anymore. When he saw me on the floor, his face went pale. His eyes were wide with pure terror.

"Roosevelt!"

He dropped to his knees, sliding across the tiles to get to me. He gathered me into his arms, his hands shaking as he touched my face.

"Roosevelt, look at me! What is it? Where does it hurt?" His voice was frantic. He wasn't the cold billionaire anymore, he was just my husband, terrified.

"My stomach," I gasped, grabbing his shirt. "It hurts... so much."

I felt warm liquid between my legs. I was bleeding.

"No, no, no," I sobbed, burying my face in his chest. "Please, not this."

Zyran didn't ask questions, he scooped me up into his arms effortlessly, holding me tight against his chest.

"I've got you," he whispered fiercely into my hair. "Stay with me."

He ran toward the front door. As we passed the living room, I saw Mina standing there, surprised to see Zyran carrying me.

"Zyran?" she called out. "Where are you going?"

"Get in the car, Mina!" Zyran shouted without stopping. "We are going to the hospital. Now!"

Everything after that was a blur of lights. The last thing I felt was Zyran's hand gripping mine so hard it almost hurt, and his voice whispering, "Don't leave me, Roosevelt. Please don't leave me."

Beep... Beep... Beep...

I woke up to the smell of lemons and medicine. The room was quiet.

I blinked my eyes open, I was in a hospital bed. My hand felt warm. I looked down and saw Zyran. He was sitting in a chair next to the bed, his head resting near my hip. He was asleep, but he still held my hand tightly with both of his.

I moved slightly, and he woke up instantly. He sat up, his hair messy and his eyes red, showing that he hadn't slept at all.

"You're awake," he breathed out. The relief in his voice hit me hard. He reached out and stroked my cheek with his thumb. "You scared me to death, Roosevelt. I thought something terrible had happened."

"Zyran," I croaked. My throat felt dry. "The doctor... what did he say?"

Before Zyran could answer, the door opened. A doctor with gray hair walked in, holding a clipboard.

"Ah, Mrs. King. Good to see you awake," the doctor said kindly.

Zyran stood up. "Doctor, she is in pain. Is it her appendix? Is it the fall?"

The doctor looked at Zyran, then at me. He seemed to sense the tension. He walked to the other side of the bed, away from Zyran, and lowered his voice slightly.

"Mr. King, could you give us a moment? I need to check her vitals," the doctor said smoothly.

Zyran hesitated. He didn't want to leave. "I want to know what is wrong with my wife."

"I will update you in a minute," the doctor insisted.

Reluctantly, Zyran squeezed my hand one last time. "I'll be right outside the door," he promised. He walked out, casting a worried look back at me before closing the door.

As soon as he was gone, the doctor leaned in close.

"Mrs. King, you are very lucky," he whispered. "You had a threatened miscarriage, the bleeding was caused by the trauma of the fall and high stress."

My hands flew to my mouth. "But... is the baby...?"

"The baby is still holding on," the doctor smiled gently. "The heartbeat is strong but you are in a danger zone. You cannot have any stress, no shocks, or heavy lifting. If you bleed again, we might not be able to save the pregnancy."

I let out a sob of relief. "Thank you. Oh, thank you."

"Does your husband know?" the doctor asked.

I shook my head quickly. "No and please, don't tell him yet. There is a lot happening at home. I need to tell him when the time is right. When things are calm."

The doctor nodded. "Very well. Patient confidentiality, but you must rest."

The doctor left the room. A few seconds later, Zyran came back in. He looked more relaxed now that the doctor was gone.

"He said you just need rest," Zyran said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "He said you are exhausted and the fall shook you up."

He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. His lips were warm. "I am so sorry, Roosevelt. I should have listened to you about the stairs. I was just overwhelmed with everything happening with Mina."

"Speaking of Mina," I whispered, pulling back slightly. "Where is she?"

Zyran sighed. "She is in the waiting room, she refused to leave."

"Zyran, who is she really?" I asked. "You said she was an old friend, but..."

Zyran looked down at his hands. "We were friends in college. Best friends, then she met a guy. They were together for three years. I didn't hear from her that whole time. I thought she was happy."

He looked up at me, his eyes full of pity. "She called me tonight for the first time in years. She was screaming, her apartment was on fire. She said she had no one else."

"But why you?" I asked. "Why not the police?"

"Because of her ex-boyfriend," Zyran said darkly. "She left him a year ago, but..."

Suddenly, the door to my room banged open.

Mina rushed in. She was back in her dirty white dress, she looked frantic, holding a cell phone in her shaking hand.

"Zyran!" she cried out.

Zyran stood up immediately. "Mina? What is it?"

Mina ran to him and grabbed his arm, her nails digging into his shirt. She looked at me, then back at Zyran. Her eyes were wide with panic.

"He found me," she whispered, her voice trembling. "My ex... he knows I'm here."

Zyran frowned. "How? The fire..."

"He sent me a message," Mina choked out. She held up the phone so Zyran could see the screen. "He said he saw you carry a woman out of the house. He thinks... he thinks I am your wife."

Zyran went still. "What?"

Mina looked at me, a twisted fear on her face.

"He thinks Roosevelt is me," Mina whispered. "And he says he is coming to the hospital to finish what he started in the fire."

"He thinks I'm you?," I asked, my voice shaking.

The room suddenly felt cold. I looked at the door, half-expecting someone to burst in.

Zyran's expression turned serious. He grabbed his phone and quickly dialed a number.

"Security," he said sharply. "Code Red, I need four men at my wife's door right now and check the parking lot."

He hung up and turned to Mina. She was shivering, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Mina, sit down," Zyran said gently. "He won't touch her and he won't touch you."

"I'm so sorry, Zyran," Mina cried. "I didn't mean to create this trouble for your family. I should just leave. I should let him find me."

"Don't be foolish," Zyran said, but he squeezed her shoulder. "You are not going anywhere. You are family."

I stared at him, confused. "Family?"

Zyran looked at me, his eyes serious. "Roosevelt, I didn't have time to explain earlier. Mina isn't just a college friend, we grew up on the same street. She has known me since I was five."

He glanced at Mina with a protective look. "She used to play dolls with my big sister, Clara. My mother loves Mina like a daughter. If anything happened to her, my mother would never forgive me."

I felt a strange ache in my heart. I knew Zyran's mother was tough. She hardly ever smiled at me. But she loved Mina?

"I had no idea," I whispered.

"There's a lot you don't know," Zyran said, sounding weary. "But I promised my family I would always look out for her. I keep my promises."

Suddenly, a loud noise echoed from the hallway.

"Move! Get out of my way!" a woman's voice shouted.

The door swung open. A woman with bright red hair and a fierce look stormed in, she wore mismatched sneakers and a large coat.

It was Nixie, my best friend.

"Roosevelt!" Nixie yelled. Ignoring Zyran, she ran straight to my bed and grabbed my face in her hands. "I saw the news! Someone posted a picture of Zyran carrying you into the ER! Are you okay? Tell me you're okay!"

"I'm okay, Nix," I managed a weak smile. Seeing her made me feel safer. "It was just... a fall."

Nixie sighed with relief and hugged me tightly. Then she pulled back and shot an angry look at Zyran.

"You!" she said, pointing a finger at his chest. "You are supposed to protect her, Mr. Billionaire! How does she fall down the stairs on your anniversary?"

Zyran crossed his arms. "It was an accident, Nixie. Lower your voice."

Nixie's eyes narrowed, she glanced past Zyran and saw Mina sitting in the corner, looking small in her dirty dress.

"Who is this ghost?" Nixie asked bluntly.

"This is Mina," Zyran said, standing between Nixie and Mina. "She's a guest. She's having a tough time."

Nixie examined Mina. Nixie had a knack for spotting when someone was pretending, she squinted.

"Mina," Nixie asked slowly, "why are you wearing Roosevelt's robe?"

Mina flinched and looked at Zyran with big, teary eyes. "My clothes were burned. Zyran gave it to me."

"Nixie, stop it," I said softly. I didn't want a confrontation. Not now. "Mina is in danger. Her ex-boyfriend is after her."

"And now he is after Roosevelt," Zyran added grimly.

Nixie's face paled. She looked at me, then at the door. "Wait. You're telling me that because of her problems, my best friend is a target?"

"We're handling it," Zyran said. "I'm moving both of them to the Safe House tonight. No one gets in."

"The Safe House?" I asked. "But Zyran, I just want to go home."

"Home isn't safe, Roosevelt," Zyran replied firmly. "The address is public, the Safe House is the only choice."

He walked to the window and peered through the blinds. His back went tense.

"Damn it," Zyran cursed.

"What?" I asked, my heart racing.

Zyran turned. His face was serious.

"Security just radioed in," he said. "A black van just crashed through the hospital gate. Men in masks are getting out."

He looked at me, then at Mina.

"He's here."

The fear didn't last long.

Zyran's security team was impressive. Before the masked men could reach the hospital doors, five black SUVs surrounded them. We watched from the window as police cars flooded the parking lot. Mina's ex-boyfriend was handcuffed and shoved into a police car within ten minutes.

"It's over," Zyran said, closing the blinds. "He's going to jail for a long time, you are safe now."

Mina sobbed with relief, but I felt drained. I wanted to go home. Instead, Zyran took us to his Safe House-a huge, modern mansion on the edge of the city. It looked cold and fortress-like.

By the time we settled in, it was past midnight. Nixie had gone to a guest room to call her husband, leaving me alone with Zyran and Mina in the kitchen.

My ankle throbbed, and my stomach felt tight. I sat on a barstool, watching Zyran. He had removed his suit jacket and was rolling up his sleeves. He opened the fridge and pulled out some eggs and vegetables.

"I'll make something simple," Zyran said, glancing at me. "You need to eat before you take your medicine, Roosevelt."

A small warmth filled my chest. "Thank you, Zyran. You don't have to-"

"Zyran!"

Mina's shrill voice cut through the air. She entered the kitchen, wearing fresh clothes that the housekeeper had found for her. She looked at Zyran holding the frying pan and gasped, horrified.

"Why would you offer to cook, Zyran?" she said, walking over and trying to take the pan from him. "Cooking is a domestic chore, It's meant for women."

I blinked, stunned. Was she serious?

Mina didn't look at me. She focused on Zyran, speaking softly. "You see, I've had a hard day. I'm traumatized. I'm so tired I can barely move, or else I would do it. But you, you're a billionaire CEO, running a company is tough. You deserve to rest."

She finally turned her head and glared at me. Her eyes were cold, but her voice stayed sweet for Zyran's sake.

"Roosevelt should do the cooking," Mina said, pointing at me. "She seems so energetic, she was ready to fight me on the stairs earlier. That energy should be used to make us dinner. Besides, isn't she an interior designer? She's practically a domestic worker, she knows how to serve."

I was stunned. I sat there with my mouth slightly open. I had nearly lost my baby tonight. I could barely walk on my swollen ankle. And this woman wanted me to serve her?

Zyran stiffened. He set the pan down on the counter with a loud thud.

"She didn't ask me to cook, Mina," Zyran said, his voice low and firm. "I did it willingly, she is my wife, watch your words."

I felt a flicker of gratitude. At least he defended me this time.

But Mina didn't back down. She looked hurt, as if Zyran had slapped her. Tears filled her eyes.

"You've changed, Zyran," she cried. "This isn't you. What has that woman done to you?"

She stepped closer to him, ignoring me completely.

"What were you thinking when you married someone as tough and cold as Roosevelt?" Mina asked, sniffling. "She is mean and lacks sympathy. Didn't you notice how little she cared about me being homeless tonight? She wanted to send me to a hotel! She's not only mean, but inconsiderate too."

"Mina..." Zyran warned.

"I'm just telling the truth!" Mina sobbed. "For someone with a rough past, she shouldn't interfere with us. Remember how we used to be? You were never this soft, you were strong."

She reached out and placed her small hand on Zyran's chest, over his heart.

"Let me cook," she whispered. "I might be tired, but I won't let a King work in the kitchen while his capable wife sits there like a statue."

Zyran looked at her hand on his chest. Then he turned his gaze to me.

I waited for him to push her away. I waited for him to kick her out.

Instead, Zyran sighed. He gently took Mina's hand off his chest, but he didn't seem angry at her anymore. He looked conflicted.

"Go to bed, Mina," he said softly. "I will bring some food up to your room."

Mina smirked at me over Zyran's shoulder. It was a quick, victorious look before she turned back to him and nodded.

"Okay, Zyran. But only because you asked," she whispered.

She turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving a heavy silence behind her.

Zyran picked up the pan again and cracked an egg into it. He didn't look at me.

"She is just stressed," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

I gripped the edge of the marble counter. My knuckles turned white. He was still making excuses for her.

"Zyran," I said quietly. "We need to talk."

"Not tonight, Roosevelt," he interrupted. "I am tired. Let's just eat."

He plated the eggs and slid a plate toward me. But as I picked up my fork, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

I opened it, and my blood ran cold. It was a photo of Zyran and Mina from years ago, looking very much in love.

And underneath, a message read:

He promised his mother he would take care of me. Do you really think a 'wife' can break a promise made to family? Enjoy the eggs. I'll enjoy him later.