Ding!
A message lit up Alessa's phone.
"Come to the office and bring my dry cleaning. Make sure my grey suit is pressed."
The sender's name flashed: "Hubby."
Ding!
"And pick up my watch from the repair shop. I need it before the evening gala. Do not be late."
Alessa scrolled up.
"Pick up my suits from the cleaners."
"Cook dinner for my mother tonight. She will arrive at seven."
"I will not be home this weekend. Do not wait up."
"My shirts are not folded properly. Fix it."
"Do not forget to call the florist about the centerpieces for Friday's dinner."
"My blue tie is missing. Find it."
Her hands shook. She dropped the phone onto the counter.
A knock on the door made her jump.
"Alessa?" Her assistant's voice was cautious. "Is everything okay?"
She shook her head, unable to trust her own voice. "Yes… I will handle it."
The assistant hesitated, then left quietly.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
"Even if you are Mrs. Blackwood, you are nothing more than a glorified housekeeper. Has Ethan looked at you even once in three years? He was with me last night."
Alessa froze.
"What?" she whispered. Her fingers went cold. Her chest tightened.
Another buzz. A photo.
Her breath caught. Ethan, asleep. Calm. Peaceful. A woman beside him, her head on his chest, arm draped over him like she belonged there. Smiling.
Camille Reyes.
His lawyer. The same woman who had held Alessa's hands at a company gala and said, "You are a lucky woman."
Alessa dropped the phone. Heart pounding, stomach twisting. This could not be real. But the photo didn't lie.
The landline rang. Instinctively, she answered.
"Hello?"
"Alessa, did you forget Ethan's suits need to be at the office by noon? What exactly do you do all day?"
Helena Blackwood's voice, sharp and cutting, pierced her ears.
Alessa pressed her lips together. "I will handle it," she said softly, closing her eyes. She ended the call.
She sank onto the couch.
Three years.
Three years of Helena's remarks about her "ordinary background."
Three years of Ethan's silence.
Three years of dinners, errands, waiting, endless chores.
Three years of invisibility in her own home.
Her phone buzzed. Slowly, she picked it up.
"I want a divorce. Meet me at City Hall at noon today."
Her thumb hovered over the send button.
She couldn't. Not yet. Not even now. Even after everything. Even after the photo.
She still loved him.
God help her, she still loved him.
Her fingers shook as she typed again:
"Can we talk tonight? Please. I just need to talk to you."
Hours passed. No call. No reply. Then a notification:
"Transfer: $50,000"
Alessa's throat tightened. No words. Just money. Like she was something to be traded.
Something that could be settled. Like she was nothing at all.
She set the phone down. Staring at it, her mind replayed every moment of three years: waiting for his key in the door late at night, heart lifting at the sound only to have him walk past her to his study without a word. Dinner plates untouched, candles burned down. Every effort she had made. Every hope she had held. Tomorrow never came.
Her hands trembled as she dialed his number.
"Hello?"
"Ethan… we need to talk," she whispered, barely audible.
A pause. Then coldness. "About what?"
"About… us. About everything."
"Everything? You know I am busy. Can it wait?"
"No," she said, voice shaking but louder. "It cannot. I saw… I know what happened."
Silence.
"You are imagining things."
"I am not!" Her voice cracked. "I have the proof. I saw the photo, Ethan!"
Another sharp exhale. "Alessa… this is ridiculous. I do not have time for drama."
"Drama?" Tears blurred her vision. "I have lived in your house like a ghost for three years! I cook, I clean, I wait for you to notice me! And now this?"
Silence. Then low and cutting.
"You always overreact. I do not know why I married you."
Her hands tightened around the phone. "Why? Why did you marry me if you never cared?"
"Because I wanted someone who could keep things running while I focused on my work. That is all. You knew it."
"No!" she shouted, shaking. "I thought… I thought we loved each other! I gave you everything!"
"You gave me chores. That's all I asked for."
The line went dead.
Alessa sank onto the floor, chest heaving. Heart racing. Every muscle in her body ached.
She picked up her phone with trembling hands.
"Fine. I will go to City Hall. Noon."
She sent it.
His reply came instantly.
"You are overreacting. I will be there."
A short, broken laugh escaped her lips. Then tears. She could not stop herself.
Hours later.
Alessa stood on the steps of City Hall, heart pounding.
A sleek car pulled up. Ethan stepped out. Sharp suit. Sharp eyes.
He raised an eyebrow. "Alessa. You are early."
"I am done waiting."
"You always dramatize things."
"Do you hear yourself?" she snapped. "Do you know what it feels like to be invisible to your own husband?"
"That is life. You chose it."
"I chose to love you. And you destroyed it."
"Life is not fair."
"I am done. Done being your invisible wife. Done being everything you never cared about."
He looked at her flatly. "Sign the papers."
Her chest ached. "Do you even see me?"
"I see what I need to see." He held out the pen. "You are signing, are you not?"
"Please… do not make this so easy for you."
"It has always been easy. For me, at least."
Alessa took the pen with trembling hands. And signed.
Ethan took the papers without a word. Nodded. Turned. Walked away.
Alessa turned, stepped down, and did not look back.
Even now. Even after everything. Even after knowing the truth.
She still did not know how to stop loving him.
And that was the most broken thing of all.