I Signed My Freedom on Our Anniversary

Even after three years bound in marriage by blood oath and ceremony, they didn’t always share the same bed.

Don Desmond had claimed he preferred solitude at night.

Valentina understood—it wasn’t just anyone he didn’t want beside him. It was her.

She also knew how careful he’d always been with Selene. The Don had probably rehearsed a long, smooth explanation for her presence, but when Valentina didn’t resist, didn’t argue, it caught him off guard.

“Alright,” she said softly, almost casually. “Most of my things are in that room anyway. I’ll take them all out myself.”

In truth, it made no difference whether she removed her belongings now or later.

The instant she mentioned moving her things, Desmond’s lips parted slightly, a protest almost forming. But before a word could leave, Selene stepped in.

“Thanks, Avy.”

Valentina didn’t reply. She bent to haul a heavy box toward the stairs, her thin arms straining under the weight.

There was far too much crammed inside. Her foot slid on a shard of glass hidden in the shadows, and she tumbled hard. Her knee smashed the floor, shards cutting into her skin.

Pain flared like fire up her leg and into her spine. Beads of sweat dotted her back. She bit her lip to keep silent, gritting her teeth through it.

But Don Desmond didn’t see. Selene had already pulled him away.

Valentina stayed there, trembling as the pain sank deeper. Tears welled and fell, one by one, onto the cold tiles.

In the Marwood mansion, Desmond would never have let Selene lift even a handbag.

“Our Yannie is our princess,” he’d say, voice warm and indulgent. “She deserves nothing but care.”

Yet when Valentina—the maid’s daughter turned wife of the richest man in the city—bore the same weight, no one blinked. No one cared if she got hurt.

Still, everyone sided with Selene. Unquestioningly. Without hesitation.

Valentina had learned to accept it.

The afternoon crawled by as she sorted through her things. By sunset, every item was loaded onto a waiting truck.

“You didn’t need to throw so much away,” Desmond said, frowning as he watched. “Yannie’s only here temporarily. When she leaves, you’ll move back. What’s the point?”

She didn’t flinch. “They’re old,” she replied evenly. “Time to let them go.”

“You’ve never been wasteful.”

No, she hadn’t. She’d never known a life of ease. Every possession she owned had been earned, cherished, made to last.

She only smiled. “They’ve been with me a long time. Sometimes, you need space. Out with the old, right?”

Just like people, she thought.

Her reasoning sounded fair enough. If Desmond pressed further, he’d look petty—so he let it slide.

“There’s an auction tonight,” he said, shifting the topic. “The organizers invited me. You’ll attend. With Yannie.”

She opened her mouth to refuse. He cut her off.

“You’re my secretary,” he reminded her coldly. “I can’t appear at that kind of gathering without one.”

She looked at him, countless words clinging to her throat—And bringing Selene is acceptable?—but none escaped. She only nodded. One final obligation before she walked away forever.

Night fell. Inside the grand hall, chandeliers cast light like noon over the polished floors.

Every important figure in the city’s underworld was present—polished, practiced, dangerous.

The Hacketts had risen fast over the last two years. Jade, the hostess, came out quickly, her expression polite.

“Don Hackett. Your seat is ready. Right this way.”

Jade gestured to a pair of chairs. “I heard you married? The second seat is for your wife.”

For a heartbeat, everyone froze.

The Don’s marriage had always been secret, hidden behind careful walls. No one was supposed to know.

Valentina turned to him, waiting. Two women. One extra seat.

His choice wasn’t unexpected.

“I’m not married,” Desmond said smoothly. “Not sure where that rumor came from.”

The hostess blinked, confused. “And these two?”

He stepped forward, taking Selene’s hand first.

“This is Selene, daughter of S. Marwood Co.’s CEO.”

“Ah… Selene Marwood,” Jade said, nodding politely.

Then, almost reluctantly, Desmond added, “And the one beside you is my secretary.”

Valentina didn’t flinch. She had anticipated this introduction. But knowing the truth didn’t dull the sharp sting in her chest.

Still, she held herself tall, swallowing the hurt and preserving her dignity.

Desmond and Selene took their seats while Valentina lingered behind them, standing.

Maybe it was the chill in the hall. Maybe it was everything. But a stabbing pain hit her lower abdomen, sharp and insistent.

She pressed a hand to her belly and slipped away toward the restroom—silent, like a shadow fleeing from the spotlight.