Elena's POV
I stand outside Adrian's study at 2 AM, my hand shaking on the doorknob.
Seven years of marriage. Seven years of walking past this locked door. Seven years of him saying, "That's my private place, Elena. I need somewhere that's just mine."
Tonight, I don't care about his rules anymore.
The flash drive burns in my pocket—the one I took from his office earlier. But I need more. I need to understand how long he's been planning to throw me away like garbage.
The door opens quietly. My heart pounds so loud I'm sure it'll wake him, but Adrian's snoring drifts from our bedroom down the hall. He came home an hour ago, kissed my forehead like I was a kid, and went to sleep without asking why I'd been crying.
He never asks anymore.
The study smells like his perfume and secrets. Leather chairs. Dark wood desk. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with books he's never read—just expensive decorations to impress customers.
I pull out my phone and turn on the lights. My hands won't stop shaking.
What are you doing? a voice in my head says. This is wrong. You're invading his space.
But then I remember Liam's words today: "The three of us look more like a family."
I remember Vivian's smile.
I remember seven years of being unseen.
My hands steady. I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm protecting myself.
The filing box is locked, but I know where Adrian hides keys—inside the fake book on the third shelf. He thinks he's so smart. I grab it and the cabinet clicks open.
The first folder I pull out has my name on it.
My stomach drops.
Inside are papers I've never seen. A prenuptial agreement—I remember signing it, believing Adrian when he said it was "just a formality." Now I actually read it. If we split, I get almost nothing. A tiny amount of money. No house. No car. No part of his business.
Seven years of my life, and I'm worth less than his assistant's yearly pay.
But that's not the worst part.
Behind the prenup is another paper. Dated six months ago. A updated will.
My eyes scan the words, and my blood turns to ice.
" In the event of my death, Elena Kane gets a one-time payment of $50,000. The rest of my estate, including custody of Liam Kane, transfers to my sister Margaret."
Fifty thousand dollars. That's what seven years of marriage is worth to him. And he's giving our son to his sister—a woman who told me at our wedding that I "wasn't good enough for the Kane family."
He's been planning to erase me. Not just divorce me—erase me totally.
I keep digging. There's a folder titled "Personal Expenses." Inside are credit card bills. Jewelry buying. Flowers. Expensive meals.
None of it for me.
Restaurant receipts from places Adrian told me he was "working late." Hotel charges from "business trips" where he said "don't bother calling, I'll be in meetings."
And jewelry. So much bling.
My hands shake as I find the ticket I'm looking for: the diamond bracelet I showed Adrian three months ago. The one in the shop window I loved. "Too expensive," he'd said, barely looking at it. "Maybe next year."
The receipt shows he bought it two weeks later.
For Vivian Winters.
I pull out my phone and start taking pictures. Every document. Every ticket. Every lie made real.
That's when I see the laptop on his desk.
It's open. He forgot to close it, and it's still logged in.
I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't.
I sit down and click on his email.
The first one I see makes my eyes blur:
From: Adrian Kane
To: Richard Morrison (Attorney)
Subject: Accelerated Timeline
Richard,
We need to move faster on the exit plan. Elena is becoming suspicious—asking questions about funds and why I'm late so often. I need the updated prenup ready by next month. Make sure it's airtight. She gets the minimum legally needed and nothing else.
Also, regarding Liam's boarding school application—I need it finished. Once he's enrolled and settled, the divorce will be easy. Distance from Elena will help him adjust to the change.
V is pushing for us to go public with our romance. I've told her to wait until after the divorce, but she's getting antsy. Handle this carefully. I don't want Elena finding out about V before everything is locked down officially.
Timeline: file for divorce in 3 months. Have all valuables protected before then.
-A
The email is written three weeks ago.
Three weeks. While I was planning our anniversary dinner. While I was taking fertility drugs, trying to give Liam a sibling. While I was trying to be a better wife.
He was going to divorce me.
My chest feels like it's caving in. I can't breathe.
I slide down. More emails. Months of them. Adrian and his lawyer discussed "asset protection" and "minimizing spousal claims." Plans to move money into accounts I can't reach.
And then I see the name that stops my heart: Vivian.
From: Vivian Winters
To: Adrian Kane
Subject: We need to talk
Adrian, I can't keep hiding this. I need to know what your plans are. You promised me that once Elena was out of the picture, we'd be together properly. But you keep waiting.
I have something important to tell you. Can we meet tomorrow? Not at the office—somewhere private. This changes everything.
-V
Adrian's answer, sent the same day:
V, I told you to be patient. These things take time. What do you need to tell me? Can't it wait until after this weekend?
Vivian's comment makes the world stop spinning:
It can't wait. I'm pregnant, Adrian. Eight weeks. It's yours.
The date on the email: two months ago.
Two months ago, while I was crying over another failed pregnancy test. While Adrian was telling me "maybe we're trying too hard" and "let's just relax about it."
Vivian was carrying his baby.
I scroll quickly through more emails, my vision blurring with tears I refuse to let fall.
From: Adrian Kane
To: Richard Morrison
Subject: URGENT - New Development
Richard, V just told me she's pregnant. Paternity test shows it's mine. This speeds everything. I need Elena out BEFORE V starts showing. File the divorce papers next month. Make it quick and clean.
And Richard? If Elena fights this, destroy her. I want her to walk away with nothing.
The phone slips from my hands and clatters onto the desk.
Vivian is pregnant with Adrian's kid.
He's not just planning to divorce me. He's replacing me. Our full family. New wife. New baby.
And I'm the hurdle he needs to "destroy."
I sit in the darkness of his forbidden study, surrounded by proof of his betrayal, and something inside me shifts.
Not breaks—I'm done breaking.
Shifts.
I take more shots. Every email. Every document. Every single piece of proof that Adrian Kane planned to throw me away like trash.
Then I see one more folder on his desktop: "Properties."
I click it open and freeze.
It's a house. A beautiful house in the woods, with a nursery already decorated. Purchase date: one month ago. Buyer's name: Adrian Kane and Vivian Winters.
He already bought them a house. While I'm still living in our home, sleeping in our bed, he bought a house for his pregnant lover.
I'm not his wife. I'm just the garbage he hasn't taken out yet.
My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number: Mrs. Kane, you don't know me, but I know what your husband is doing to you. Check his offshore funds. The ones in the Cayman Islands. Account number: 8472-9356-1047. Password: Vivian2024. You deserve to know the truth. He's been stealing from you for years. -A Friend
My fingers tremble as I type the account details into Adrian's computer.
The screen loads.
What I see makes my blood turn to ice.
The account balance: $47 million.
Transfers going back five years. Money from our joint accounts. Money from investments I thought we owned together. Money that should be ours but is hidden under Vivian's name.
But that's not the worst part.
The worst part is the planned transfer at the bottom of the screen:
Pending: $15 million move to V. Winters - Date: Tomorrow, 3 PM. Memo: "Thank you for waiting, my love. Our future starts now."
Tomorrow. He's going to give her fifteen million dollars tomorrow.
That's when I hear it—footsteps in the hallway.
Adrian's awake.
I scramble to close the windows on his laptop, shove the papers back into the filing cabinet, pocket my phone. But there's no time. The study door starts to open.
Light floods in.
Adrian stands in the doorway, his face twisted in rage.
"What the hell are you doing in here, Elena?"