He Made Me Invisible, I Made Him Irrelevant

[Bring her medical records to the healer tomorrow at 2 p.m. He needs to confirm if her condition is genetic. The baby can't have any defects.]

I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the screen. Instead of replying, I removed the SIM card and dropped it into the diner's cold coffee cup, watching it sink like my former life.

'Alexander—our story ends today. The woman you broke no longer exists.'

The next morning, at healer Medical Center—

"Alexander, is something wrong with the baby?" Victoria clutched her barely-showing stomach.

Alexander immediately crossed the private waiting room, enveloping her in his arms as though she might shatter.

"Nothing's wrong, sweetheart. The ultrasound shows perfect development. The fall into the pool didn't cause any harm."

"Thank God," she whispered. "You've been checking your phone obsessively since we arrived. I was terrified you were hiding bad news from me."

Alexander's jaw tightened, Anyone else would have missed it, but I'd spent years noticing his microexpressions to predict his moods.

He pulled out his phone again, scrolling through unanswered messages. The slight tremor in his hand betrayed his rising anger.

For six years, he had conditioned me to respond within minutes. To prioritize his demands above my basic needs. Once, I'd left a doctor's appointment mid-examination because he wanted me to bring him the tie he'd forgotten at home.

Now, my silence was the first power I'd held over him in years.

After ensuring Victoria was comfortable in the waiting room, Alexander stepped into the hallway. He made three separate calls, his face darkening with each one that went unanswered.

He escorted Victoria to lunch, made certain she was safely delivered to their penthouse, and only then did he head to the Enterprises.

The moment he entered the executive floor, his personal assistant approached cautiously.

"Sir, your father has returned from black fang pack unexpectedly. He's called for an emergency board meeting in thirty minutes."

Alexander didn't pause his stride. "Who else has he summoned?"

"The entire executive team, sir. And..." The assistant hesitated.

"Spit it out," Alexander snapped.

"He specifically asked if Mrs. Blackwood would be attending."

Alexander's steps faltered for just a heartbeat. Then he continued walking. "Purchase the sapphire necklace from Cartier. The one from their latest collection."

The assistant nodded, already typing the instruction into his tablet.

"Have it delivered to—" Alexander paused. "Have it delivered to the Wilson’s estate."

He was convinced I would run to my childhood home—the mansion my parents had left behind, which he'd deliberately kept in legal limbo to prevent me from selling.

He had no idea I'd never set foot there again.

One week later, well past midnight.

Alexander unlocked the front door of the mansion. The deal he'd been orchestrating for months had finally closed.

He loosened his tie as he entered the dimly lit living room, immediately noticing the slender figure curled up on the sofa.

"Lauren, how many times have I told you not to wait up for me? I've explained that these negotiations are crucial for the company's future, and I don't need you making me feel guilty for—"

His words died as he drew closer and realized his mistake.

Victoria gazed up at him and shivered under his gaze. "Alexander... she still hasn't come home."

"I've sent her dozens of messages apologizing for the... misunderstanding at the pool. But she won't respond to any of them."

"Maybe I should move back to my apartment? I never meant to come between you and your wife."

The tremor in her voice was so convincing that for a moment, even I might have believed her.

Watching her eyes fill with tears, Alexander's expression softened. He settled beside her, pulling her against his chest.

He pressed his lips to her forehead in the exact spot he used to kiss mine. "Don't upset yourself over this. Think of the baby."

"Whether Lauren approves or not, this is your home now. You and our child belong here."

Half an hour later, after Victoria had retired to the master bedroom, Alexander stood alone on the terrace, a glass of thirty-year-old scotch in one hand.

He hadn't drunk in months—not since the night he'd discovered Victoria was pregnant.

He pulled out his phone, scrolled to my contact, and stared at it for so long the screen dimmed.

After his second glass, he didn't call. Instead, he typed a message:

[Tomorrow is Father's 70th birthday celebration. I suggest you make an appearance and behave appropriately. Don't embarrass the family name any further—and stay away from Victoria.]

The following evening, the Blackwood family's annual gala began in earnest.

Alexander arrived with Victoria on his arm. They moved through the room like royalty, accepting congratulations until Edward Blackwood himself entered the grand ballroom.

Only then did Alexander release Victoria's hand, moving swiftly to his father's side to assist with greeting their most important investors.

"Where is Lauren this evening?"

Alexander's expression didn't falter. For once, he actually defended me.

"Lauren wasn't feeling well after her recent hospital stay. She insisted I represent us both rather than disappoint you on your birthday."

Three hours passed, then finally the event reached its scheduled highlight—the annual Blackwood family portrait and gift presentation.

But I still hadn't appeared.

Tension radiated from Alexander as he excused himself from a conversation with potential investors. In a quiet corner, he dialed my number for what must have been the twentieth time that day.

"The number you have reached is no longer in service..."

He tried again. And again. The same automated message taunted him each time.

Just as Edward was about to call the family forward for photographs, a courier in a uniform entered the ballroom.

He carried three distinct packages—each labeled with my elegant handwriting.

Under the scrutiny of three hundred pairs of eyes, Edward maintained his composure as he opened the first gift.

Inside was a leather-bound first edition of The Picture of Dorian Gray"—his favorite novel, which he had once mentioned in passing during a family dinner six years ago. The inscription inside read: "To remember me by."

Visibly moved, Edward carefully opened the second package.

Inside lay the Blackwood family signet ring—the one he had personally placed on my finger during our wedding ceremony.

A hushed murmur rippled through the crowd.

Everyone in their social circle understood the significance of returning such a powerful family symbol.

Before Edward could react, Alexander strode toward the third and final package.

With hands that barely concealed their trembling, he tore it open.