It was the thirtieth anniversary of Morel Industries.
And yet, as the legal wife of the CEO, Raine could only stand among the crowd like an outsider, watching her husband waltz across the floor with his mistress.
She fought to suppress her anger, forcing herself to stay composed. She was here tonight to solve problems, not create them.
Felix, however, seemed to be enjoying every second as he spun Bianca around, his hand locked around hers. His suit framed the broad lines of his back, a display of raw, animal power. His large palm gripped Bianca’s slender waist possessively, as if she belonged to him. His chiseled, marble-like face—normally cold and severe—softened when he looked at his dance partner.
Raine could almost hear the collective sighs from the women nearby—at that moment, it was as if half the panties in the ballroom had spontaneously combusted.
Then Felix bent down and whispered something into Bianca’s ear, making her laugh out loud.
Raine’s fist tightened again. When she got nervous, she had a habit of digging her nails into her own palm.
Next to Bianca’s radiance, Raine was nothing more than a ghost in Felix’s world—forever out of reach.
They had been married for three years. Every night, she woke up at three in the morning to iron his shirts for the next day. Felix’s obsession with perfection bordered on pathological—if he spotted even the faintest crease, his cold, cutting criticism would send her spiraling. So she ironed them again and again, for two straight hours, until the fabric was crisp enough to satisfy him.
The warm milk before bed, the perfectly ordered closet, the evenly trimmed garden fence—she had taught herself to live like a shadow, never to disturb him, because he hated any trace of a “second presence” in the house. For three years, her existence had been like air—ignored, invisible—yet she still longed for those fleeting moments of happiness when he came home.
But just yesterday morning, while she was grocery shopping, she saved an old man who had stumbled into the street. He had smiled at her and said, “You should see more of the world—it’s a beautiful place.”
That moment had felt like waking from a long sleep.
She finally understood—she couldn’t spend the rest of her life chained to a man who had never loved her.
So when Bianca provoked her earlier today, Raine decided to come anyway—knowing Felix would explode, knowing he would yell.
Her thoughts were broken by a group of women gossiping nearby.
“I’m shocked—I mean, we all knew our CEO was married. But he never brings her to these things,” one of them said, her eager eyes glued to Felix and Bianca still dancing. “And now he’s letting another woman waltz with him for the opening number.”
“That’s normal,” another woman scoffed. “Everyone knows his marriage was forced by his grandmother. Besides, his wife’s supposedly hideous.”
“If you were him, you’d lock her up too, wouldn’t you?” a third woman added, rolling her eyes dramatically.
The first woman sighed. “Such a shame. Look at those two—they’re perfect together. He belongs with someone like Bianca.”
Raine kept listening, her lips curling in a silent, mocking smile. Ugly?
If they turned around, they’d see how absurd that sounded.
But of course, Felix had told the press his wife was “not fit for public appearances.”
No wonder everyone thought she was some kind of monster.
Raine knew she was beautiful—anyone who had ever met her said so.
Everyone except Felix.
He despised her, as if that hatred had been carved into his DNA. Because to him, Raine was a symbol of his weakness—his grandmother had forced the marriage on him by threatening to cut off his inheritance.
And Raine? She had fallen for him the moment she saw him. She hadn’t even hesitated three seconds before saying yes. She’d trusted the old woman’s judgment.
But the old woman’s hopes hadn’t come true.
And Raine couldn’t bear to tarnish the memory of the one kind person in that family by complaining about her grandson.
She shook her head. After tonight, everything would change.
She had barely taken five steps when someone blocked her way. Raine rolled her eyes.
Simone—Felix’s sister, and another thorn in her side.
Simone looked around theatrically. “What are you doing here? Lost your way?”
Raine tried to step past her, but Simone moved again, blocking her.
“If you want my advice, I’d leave before Felix sees you. Clearly, you weren’t invited.”
Simone’s laugh was icy, but Raine’s poise remained steady, unnervingly calm. “Don’t you have anything better to do, Simone?” she asked softly, tilting her head with a faintly mocking smile. “Oh, wait—I get it. No man tonight? Still chasing that Italian guy you’ve been after for three months—the one who can’t even remember your name?”
“Shut up,” Simone snapped.
Raine sighed theatrically, her smile sharp as a blade. “I may be pathetic, but at least my last name is Morel. You, on the other hand—cling to men like gum on a shoe. The sad part? They don’t even notice you’re there.”
“You bitch,” Simone hissed. “Watch your filthy mouth! At least I wasn’t dragged into this family like a sewer rat by Grandma.”
Spit splashed across Raine’s cheek. She rolled her eyes in disgust. “For God’s sake, Simone.”
Pulling a handkerchief from her bag, she dabbed her face. “Do you spit on men during your dates too? No wonder none of them ever call you back.”
The composure Simone had been faking shattered completely. She raised her hand, ready to slap Raine.
But Raine was faster. She snatched a glass of red wine from a waiter’s tray and threw it straight into Simone’s face.
Gasps rippled through the crowd; the air itself seemed to freeze in shock. Simone stumbled backward, hands over her eyes as the red liquid dripped down her neck, staining her dress.
Raine calmly set the empty glass back on the tray. “Go freshen up. At least now you’ve got something to do,” she suggested coolly, stepping around Simone, leaving her drenched.
Ask Raine, and she’d tell you—the whole Morel family was a disgrace. Except for their late grandmother, who had once been kind; the rest were nothing but parasites, unworthy of the wealth they’d inherited.
Just then, Felix and Bianca stopped dancing, drawn by the commotion. Felix’s eyes swept the crowd, landing on Raine, and his face darkened instantly. He released Bianca and pulled out his phone, typing quickly.
Raine glanced at her own screen—a message from Felix flashed across it: Follow me.
Then Felix disappeared behind the curtain. Bianca gave Raine a smug little smile and trailed after him.
The moment they were out of sight, Felix hissed, “What the hell are you doing here? How many times have I told you—stay away from my events. You came here to catch me cheating, didn’t you?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Felix,” Raine shot back. “It was your precious mistress who invited me. Apparently, she needed to prove she’s your true love—and that she’s got you wrapped around her finger.”
Bianca gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Oh, Felix, that’s not true! You know I’m pure, don’t you?”
Raine rolled her eyes. How could Felix still fall for Bianca’s pathetic acting? It had to be dopamine—love must’ve fried his brain.
“Please, Bianca,” she sneered. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know deleted texts can be recovered from your trash folder. Why don’t you show us your phone—”
“Enough!” Felix roared, his handsome face hard and unapologetic. “Raine! I’ve had it with your dramatics. Stop pretending to be the poor, wronged wife. Look at yourself,” he spat, his gaze sweeping over her with contempt. “Compared to Bianca, you’re just a pathetic housewife. Tonight is crucial for Morel’s image. I won’t risk a scandal because of you. Leave. Now.”
“I understand,” Raine said coolly. “If the company’s image depends on your mistress, then yes—Bianca’s the perfect choice.”
Bianca’s smile froze.
Felix’s eyes blazed with fury, burning holes through her. Raine instinctively stepped back, but he lunged forward, grabbing her arm.
“Of course,” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “Bravery courtesy of champagne? Go vomit it out.”
His grip was scorching, his muscles taut as steel, trapping her like a vise. Raine’s chest tightened; before she could fight back, her body betrayed her with a slight, involuntary shiver. She bit her tongue hard, swallowing the humiliation.
“Let go, Felix. It’s not that complicated.” She wrenched free. “I came here to tell you—”
Before she could finish, a familiar voice interrupted.
“Felix!”
The moment he saw the approaching couple, Felix dropped her arm and forced a smile.
“Mr. and Mrs. Adler! What a surprise—so good to see you here.” He shook their hands quickly.
Mr. Adler chuckled. “The pleasure’s ours. Our engagement dinner ended early, and my wife insisted on meeting your wife.”
Felix’s smile stiffened; his face tightened again.
Mrs. Adler added warmly, “That’s right. They say behind every successful man is a woman. We were hoping to meet yours, Mr. Morel.”
Then both their gazes shifted—to the two women standing side by side.
“So,” Mrs. Adler said with a polite but pointed smile, “tell us—
which one is your wife?”
