"What about your wife?" she whispered, her fingers lazily tracing the line of his chest. "What do you think she’ll do... when she walks in and finds us ? In her bed?"
At that moment James chuckled darkly, not even blinking. "And who said it’s her bed? Don’t forget, this is my house. Everything in here—every piece of furniture, every curtain, every inch of this place—it belongs to me. Nothing belongs to her, nothing!!."
"Oh, darkling..." Her lips curved, teasing. "But she’s still your wife. Isn’t this... cheating?"
At that moment James’ jaw tightened. Then his voice dropped, low and sharp like a warning. "She lost the right to call herself my wife a long time ago."
He sat up, eyes hard with disgust. "I’ve put up with her for two years. Two damn years of her silence, her boring routine, her fake smiles. I can’t do it anymore."
"She should be thankful. Everything she has—everything—was because of me. And if she walks in right now?"
At that moment he pause, his eyes narrowed, full of cold finality. "She better say thank you. Because I’m done hiding. At least now, I don’t have to pretend anymore."
The woman beneath the sheets let out a soft giggle. "Okay, baby..."
What neither of them knew—
Cora stood frozen behind the door.
Not breathing. Not moving.
She had heard every word. Every moan. Every mocking laugh that came from her bedroom. The same room she had decorated for them after their first wedding anniversary.
And now—she couldn’t feel her legs.
Her husband. James Franklin.
He was cheating on her. Not just with any woman, but with her college bully. The same woman who used to humiliate him back then because he had nothing.
The same woman James swore he despised.
Now that she had given him everything—her money, her time, her heart—he ran straight back into the arms of the same bitch who once called him worthless.
And the worst part? he was proud of it.
At that moment Cora couldn’t move. Not because of the wheelchair—but because of the weight in her chest. A weight so sharp, so cruel, it felt like something was stabbing her from the inside.
Her hands trembled, her tears dripping one after another onto her lap... then onto the velvet seat of the wheelchair she had been sitting in for nearly two years.
The red rose resting on her thighs slid slightly, its petals trembling with the breeze sneaking through the hallway. It was a rare bloom—one from James’ favorite collection. She had gone to so much trouble to get it. Just to surprise him, Just to say: Happy Anniversary.
Today was supposed to be her dream. Their second wedding anniversary. A day she had marked with so much hope. So much anticipation. She thought—no, she believed—it would be the moment everything changed for the better.
Her family had finally agreed.
After years of insults and pressure, they had finally said, "Okay, we’ll accept James."
But only on one cruel condition.
They didn’t trust him. They believed James only loved her for her money, her name, her status. So Cora had pretended—for two whole years—to be paralyzed. To live in a wheelchair. To make her family believe she was at her lowest, weakest state.
If James stayed by her side during that... then it would prove his love was real.
She fought through it all. The lies. The humiliation. The pain of pretending every single day.
And through it all, she helped him rise.
She made him who he was today. The fame. The money. The influence. All without him knowing. She pushed his brand. She invested in his ideas through anonymous partners. She connected him to people he thought he discovered on his own.
Because she wanted it to be real, Because she wanted to show him the truth, on this very day... Today.
The day everything was supposed to finally make sense.
She was going to stand. Walk to him. Look him in the eye and say, "James, I was never paralyzed. But I chose this pain... to prove your love."
But instead—she stood behind the door. Listening to the man she gave everything to... throw her away like she meant nothing.
She was nothing to him, She was just an inconvenience.
Just when she thought she could reveal her identity to James, this had to happen.
Just then, Cora heard more voices spilling from the bedroom—low, intimate, and laced with cruelty.
"How do you even sleep with her?" the woman sneered with a laugh. "I’ve been thinking about it and... I just can’t imagine how you do it."
At that moment James chuckled, deep and shameless.
"What? You think I’d actually do that?" He sounded amused. "That’s disgusting. I can’t even see myself doing such a thing with her. It’s horrible, really horrible."
Cora’s breath caught.
Her heart missed a beat. Then another. Then it started pounding so hard, so loud, it drowned out the rest of their laughter.
Her hands clenched the sides of her chair. She had heard enough.
She had thought of leaving quietly. She had thought she’d just disappear from James’ life without a word, without ruining the man she once loved.
But not anymore, not after this.
Her silence was no longer kindness. It was weakness.
And now—she had vowed to destroy him.
Without a single word, Cora set back on her wheelchair, and she pushed her hand forward, her electric wheelchair humming as it rolled past the hallway into the room.
The moment she entered, the air shifted.
James froze. The girl wrapped in his arms jolted upright, the blanket falling from her shoulder.
The sight of Cora—dressed in her soft anniversary gown, eyes cold and wet with fury, with a single rose still on her lap—made the blood drain from their faces.
"Cora..." the girl whispered, her voice cracking.