Aloe’s POV

I knew something was wrong the moment I heard the laughter, it was coming from our matrimonial bedroom. It wasn’t the warm, guarded chuckle I used to pull from Wakes on our better days either.

My fingers froze on the banister, as my pulse crawled up into my throat, pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears.

For a moment, I told myself I was imagining it, that maybe one of the staff was inside,or maybe Wakes was on the phone with a client. But then came the moan that ripped through every fragile excuse I’d been clinging to.

My Wakes was moaning, in his usual deep, and low moan, that particular tone he used when he wanted me. Only this time, it wasn’t for me.

My legs moved before my brain could stop them. I pushed the door open, and immediately, my world stopped.

There he was; Wakes Savage, my husband standing shirtless by the bed, his hands gripping the hips of a woman I’d never seen before. She was perched on the edge in nothing but his dress shirt, her lipstick smeared across his mouth like a stain neither of them cared to hide.

I stood rooted at a spot, my eyes already teary. His head snapped toward me, those grey eyes locking on mine, I thought he would maybe hold shock or surprise, but it was filled with irritation, as if I’d just interrupted him signing a business deal.

“Aloe,” he said flatly. “What are you doing here?”

What am I doing here? In my own bedroom?

The words I wanted to scream tangled in my throat. My chest felt too tight to breathe, my eyes already stinging. My gaze shifted to her, to the way she smirked like she’d just claimed a prize I’d foolishly left unattended.

I stepped further inside, my voice trembling. “Who… who is she?”

He didn’t even blink. “No one you need to know.”

The casual cruelty of it hit me harder than if he’d just shouted.

“No one I need to know? She’s in our bed, Wakes!”

The woman slid off the mattress with a deliberate slowness that made my stomach twist. She walked past me without a glance.

When we were alone, he picked up his discarded shirt and began buttoning it like I wasn’t even there.

“I told you not to come home early,” he said.

My hands were shaking so hard I had to curl them into fists. “And you told me you loved me.”

His laugh was short and humorless. “Stop being dramatic, Aloe. It’s not like you’ve been much of a wife lately.”

That one sentence didn’t just hurt, it split something open in me. The last few months of distance, the cold dinners, the excuses, the way he barely touched me unless it was for appearances, it all clicked into brutal, perfect focus.

“I’ve been trying, Wakes,” I whispered. “I’ve been trying so hard.”

“Well, try harder,” he said, brushing past me. His shoulder clipped mine. I stumbled backwards but caught myself, swallowing the lump in my throat.

I wanted to tell him right then. I wanted to throw the truth at him that I’m pregnant. But the words were stuck. Not because I didn’t want him to know, but because I didn’t trust what he’d do with that knowledge.

He stopped at the doorway. “We have an event Saturday night. Go shop for something decent. And for God’s sake, fix your face before anyone sees you’ve been crying.”

The door shut behind him, leaving silence so heavy I could hear my own breathing.

I stood there for a long time, staring at the empty space he’d left, the sheets still wrinkled from someone else’s body. The hot tears then came, sliding down my cheeks until they dripped onto my trembling hands.

I wanted to scream and smash every lamp, every glass, until there was nothing left but shards, until the room outside matched the wreckage inside me. But instead, my knees gave out. I sank to the floor, curling over as I pressed my hand against my belly.

I’d known love could hurt but I hadn’t known it could feel like a trap.

Because it wasn’t just my heart in danger anymore, it was the tiny heartbeat I’d only just learned about a few hours ago.

The memory of that moment came back sharp and uninvited: the sterile doctor’s office, the quiet smile when she’d told me, “You’re about six weeks along.” I’d walked out with my hands protectively over my stomach, thinking of how I’d tell him. I’d pictured him smiling for the first time in months, maybe even holding me the way he used to.

But now… now the thought of telling him felt dangerous.

I pressed my forehead to my knees, whispering the truth into the darkness. “I can’t stay here. Not like this.”

But fear wrapped itself around my resolve. Leaving Wakes wasn’t just walking away from a marriage, it was walking away from the only life I’d known for the past three years. He had money, power and influence. A temper that could turn cold into cruel in the space of a single heartbeat.

I thought about the first time we met, how his attention had been intoxicating. How easy it had been to mistake possession for love. How quickly I’d let him become the center of my life.

That version of me felt like a stranger now. And right now something inside me has changed, it was like that kind of feeling when a locked door starts cracking open.

I can't continue staying here, wakes do cheat but bringing them into our home, I didn’t know if I would be able to bear that, how will my child be able to grow in such an environment.

I don't know where I would go if I leave here, or if I’d make it out alive. But one thing had become painfully, undeniably clear…

I would not survive more than one night in this marriage. And I will do anything… Anything at all to make that happen.