Chapter 1
“My birthday wish is for Phoebe to be my mommy,” Estela Leon heard her daughter Rowena Leon say from behind the
door.
She clutched her mouth, trying to muffle the sobs that broke out–Phoebe Silva was her husband Vance Leon’s mistress.
She had already stolen Vance. Now, she wanted to take her children too.
But today was Rowena’s birthday. Estela didn’t want to ruin the celebration.
She wiped away her tears and stepped into the room with a gift. Rowena, who loved looking pretty, pulled away the moment she reached to touch her head.
“And Mommy, you have a cold. Stay away from me–don’t mess up my hair. Phoebe did these braids. If they get messed up, she’ll be upset.”
Estela watched Rowena and her son Josh Leon excitedly talk about making clothes for Phoebe. In the corner, a little doll meant to be “Mommy” lay forgotten, tossed aside.
Her chest tightened, and a bitter taste spread in her mouth.
She had been in a secret marriage with Vance for three years. To everyone else, Phoebe was seen as his rightful wife.
But after just a few months apart, even her own children–flesh and blood–now seemed to prefer another woman.
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Estela lowered her eyes and stood in silence for a long while, only heading upstairs to shower and rest when the housekeeper quietly reminded her.
Just then, Vance’s secretary arrived. He paused for a moment, surprised to see her.
“Ma’am, Mr. Leon won’t be coming home tonight. He asked me to pick up the gift he prepared for Ms. Silva,” the secretary said.
“Alright,” Estela said softly.
Once the secretary left, a sharp pain shot through her chest.
He remembered to prepare a gift for Phoebe–but not once had he ever given her anything.
She dialed a video call.
It connected quickly.
“What is it?”
The screen showed Vance’s private lounge.
Elegant, luxurious, bathed in dazzling light–every inch oozed the extravagance that Zrefast was known for.
He wore a six–figure tailored suit, held a wine glass, and lounged casually on the sofa.
There was nothing calculating about him–just cool elegance. His expression was calm, aloof, and untouchable, like frost or snow. He was the kind of man people dreamed of but could never reach.
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Chapter 1
Estela had loved him for six whole years.
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Her voice softened. “It’s been a while since we saw each other. Tonight, maybe-”
“Vance-”
Before she could finish, a soft, feminine voice chimed in on his
end.
It was Phoebe.
The call cut off immediately.
Just before the screen went black, Vance said simply, “We’ll
talk later.”
Estela tightened her grip on the phone, staring out at the towering skyline beyond the window.
Cars streamed through the streets like rivers of light. The city shimmered–so bright and beautiful it almost didn’t seem real.
Her husband, Vance, controlled a financial empire and moved markets with ease. But for her–his wife–he had no warmth, no time, no care.
Six years, and he’d never changed. Always cold. Always distant.
Behind every kind word or gentle look was a wall she could never get past.
She’d spent all these years trying to win back his heart.
But in that moment, for the very first time–Estela felt something shift. She was tired.
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Estela didn’t call him back. She drifted into a restless, heavy sleep.
The next day, Vance finally sent a message: [Sorry. Happy third anniversary.]
Then another: [This is to make up for it.]
Not long after, a bank alert came through–an eight–figure deposit.
She scrolled past the messages, just as a notification popped up from Phoebe’s social media.
[A custom–made diamond ring from Egoset–eight months in the making. A once–in–a–lifetime piece. Thank you, Mr. Leon.]
In the post, Phoebe was all smiles, radiant and charming. A dazzling diamond sparkled on her pale, delicate hand.
Dressed in a rose–red gown, she posed beneath a famous tower, the fabric swirling around her like wine. The whole image screamed luxury, decadence–and intention.
Estela suddenly remembered the day before she married
Vance.
It was in the family’s quiet, old estate. He’d walked past her along the corridor. His eyes were calm, unreadable–but they had seen straight through her illusions.
He said, “I’ll marry you. But that’s all.”
Back then, she’d thought the line “I want love, not money” sounded childish–naive, even.
But now, for the first time, she got it.
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For six years, she’d chased a fantasy–thinking all she wanted was his love.
And she’d never had it.
She forced down the emotions building inside her and quietly went downstairs.
In the garden, she heard Rowena’s innocent, sing–song voice, laced with a hint of complaint. “Why did Mommy come back? Phoebe promised to take us to see the bear ballet today. I
wish Mommy just never came back.”
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