Left Behind, Never Looking Back

Before I left, I still had to attend the merger’s celebration night—otherwise, people would start asking questions, and suspicion would spread too quickly. For one last time, I needed to wear the mask of a devoted wife and act like nothing in my world had already fallen apart.

So I smiled until my cheeks stiffened painfully. I shook hands with investors, nodded politely as they offered condolences for the “miscarriage,” and played my role so well that even I almost believed it.

“You look beautiful, darling,” Gabriel murmured beside me, his hand settling possessively at the small of my back. He was dressed sharply in a tuxedo, every inch the polished young CEO everyone admired.

“Thank you,” I replied evenly, keeping my tone smooth. “You’ve done well, Gabriel. Everyone’s impressed.”

“We’ve done well,” he corrected with a light clink of his champagne glass against mine. “I couldn’t have pulled this off without you.”

It was almost funny—how convinced he was that everything between us had somehow returned to normal. That the Italy trip he assumed we were taking tomorrow had somehow stitched our broken marriage back together.

“Excuse me,” I said suddenly when I spotted a passing waiter. “I need water.”

I eased away from him, slipping through the crowd, needing even a few seconds where I could breathe without him in it. His presence had started to feel like pressure against my ribs.

I found a quiet spot near the terrace doors and took a slow sip of water. From there, I could see almost the entire ballroom.

And then I saw her.

Camille, of course.

She stood out immediately—too short, too red, too attention-seeking for a corporate event that demanded elegance. She was laughing loudly near the bar, leaning far too comfortably into one of the junior partners from the acquiring company.

Her hand lingered on his arm. She leaned closer, whispering into his ear. The man laughed, then placed his hand casually at her waist like they’d known each other longer than they had.

And then she kissed him.

Right there. Bold. Careless. Almost proud.

I watched without jealousy, without anger—just a strange, distant awareness, like I was observing something irrelevant happen to someone else’s life.

Then I noticed Gabriel.

He was across the room speaking with his grandfather, but his attention wasn’t there. His gaze was locked onto the bar. I saw the way his expression tightened, jaw clenching sharply. A vein pulsed at his neck.

Without another word, he excused himself mid-conversation and moved.

Fast. Controlled. Angry.

He crossed the room toward her, careful not to make a spectacle, but the force in his movements made everything clear. When he reached Camille, he grabbed her elbow—not gentle, not even close—and leaned in to hiss something into her ear.

Camille pulled away with an irritated look, clearly drunk and unbothered. He grabbed her again, firmer this time, and guided her toward a side exit that led into the gardens.

I waited a beat.

Then I followed.

Outside, the garden was swallowed in darkness, broken only by fairy lights strung across the trees. I stayed low, moving through the hedges until I could hear them clearly.

Their voices carried from near the fountain.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Gabriel’s voice was sharp, strained with anger. “In front of everyone? Have you lost your mind?”

“It’s a party,” Camille slurred back. “I’m just having fun, Gabriel. Or am I supposed to stay locked up like some secret forever?”

“You were kissing him,” he snapped, voice lowered but still cutting. “Do you realize how that looks? You’re my assistant.”

“I’m your mistress,” she shot back bitterly. “Let’s stop pretending otherwise. And I’m done waiting in the shadows while she plays grieving wife in public.”

“Keep your voice down,” he warned, glancing around nervously.

“No,” Camille shoved him lightly. “I told you already. Choose. Divorce her, or give me a child. A real heir. Not like that… mistake she lost.”

My chest tightened.

Mistake.

She called my child a mistake.

“Camille, stop,” Gabriel said, reaching for her again.

She slapped his hand away. “If you won’t give me what I want, I’ll find someone who will. That guy at the bar didn’t seem so bad. Maybe I’ll let him take me home.”

“You won’t,” Gabriel growled.

“Try me.” She turned away.

He moved in an instant—grabbing her waist, spinning her around, and pinning her against the stone edge of the fountain.

“You’re not going anywhere with anyone else,” he said harshly. “You’re mine. Understand?”

“Then prove it,” she whispered, voice shifting into something softer, darker. “Prove I’m the only one.”

Something in him snapped.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Fine. I’ll divorce her. I’ll handle it. Just stop looking at other men. I’ll give you what you want. A child. Now.”

Then he kissed her.

Not gentle. Not hesitant.

Hungry. Possessive. Absolute.

I stood in the shadows, phone raised, my hands shaking slightly as the red recording light blinked steadily.

After a moment, I stopped it. Saved everything to the cloud.

Then I turned away.

I walked back into the ballroom, collected my clutch, and left through the main entrance without a single goodbye—not to Gabriel, not to Arthur, not to anyone.

Outside, I hailed a taxi.

We stopped at the house first. I retrieved the suitcase I had hidden weeks ago, then went upstairs into the bedroom I no longer felt belonged to me.

On the bed, I placed a velvet-wrapped box where he would see it immediately.

Beside it, I left an envelope.

Inside were fake Italy tickets—carefully printed, perfectly believable.

Inside the box: divorce papers, my wedding ring, and proof of everything he had been hiding.

Two hours later, I stood at the airport gates with my passport in hand as the final boarding call for Zurich echoed through the terminal.

My phone rang.

Gabriel.

I stared at the screen for a moment longer than necessary before answering.

“Marielle?” His voice came fast, breathless. “Where are you? I’ve been searching everywhere—you disappeared from the party.”

“I’m leaving, Gabriel,” I said calmly.

“Leaving? What do you mean—leaving the party?”

“No,” I replied. “I’m already on my way to our trip. I left early.”

“What?” Confusion sharpened his tone. “Without me? We were supposed to go tomorrow. I didn’t even pack yet.”

“I know,” I said gently, almost sweetly. “I wanted to surprise you. Your ticket and a gift are on the bed. Everything’s arranged. Just go home, pack your things, and meet me there.”

A pause.

Then relief.

“Oh,” he exhaled. “Okay… you really scared me for a second there. Grandpa already thought something was wrong, so tell him we’re fine, alright? I don’t want him getting involved in the inheritance talk.” He laughed lightly. “I’m leaving now. I’ll grab everything and catch the next flight. See you soon, baby.”

“Alright,” I said softly. “Goodbye, Gabriel.”

“I love you,” he added.

I said nothing.

I lowered the phone slowly.

Then I walked to the nearest trash bin and dropped it inside.

The sound it made was small. Final.

Without looking back, I straightened my spine, held my passport tighter, and handed my boarding pass to the gate attendant.