Marriage was His Lie, So I Left

Lulu

The night of July 13, 2024.-Scott told me he was off to Paris Fashion Week while packing his things into his suitcase. It was something he always did during the summer. The fashion capital of the world was always bustling with summer fashion shows by renowned designers.

But I no longer felt reassured after hearing his confession earlier.

Sure enough, when I opened Leia's social media account, the corners of my lips turned down. Scott was embracing Leia’s waist aboard a yacht. Though his face was obscured by Leia, I recognised the watch he was wearing. I had given him that watch as a birthday gift last year.

One of the slides showed a video of them locking lips passionately, taken from a distant angle, which made me clench my fists tightly.

"How shameless."

Still angry from seeing that, I threw my phone onto the sofa. Seeing them like that truly drained me. My heart rate spiked fivefold beyond normal.

I didn’t want to waste any more time. Once, I had seen Scott shift a bookcase in his study. I hurried over to his office. Men often keep many secrets in their study, besides in their digital files.

"Where’s that book?" I whispered, searching for the old, tattered book.

My eyes widened when I found it. I slid the book about 10 inches to the right. The creaking of the wooden shelf only heightened my curiosity.

"Let’s see what else you're hiding from me, Scott."

I entered the room through the dark corridor, a narrow space that could only be passed by one person. My hand instinctively searched along the wall until my finger found the light switch. It was so easy to find for a hidden room. Scott was careless.

And as always, my judgement proved correct—I found a desk cluttered with documents. Some photos of Leia strutting down the catwalk didn’t interest me, but one object caught my attention: a blue folder from St. Avalon Health Centre.

I opened it carefully. It contained a list of heart donors, which I suspected was for me. Even when I asked Dr. Bell—my cardiologist—he always kept the details of the heart donor list under wraps.

I had to admit, Scott was clever to have kept this file hidden.

But my awe turned to bitter reality when I saw the name: Amelie Rae Jenkins.

My biological mother was on the list!

She passed away three months ago in an accident. At the time, Scott didn’t allow me to see my mother’s body. I insisted that I would be strong during the funeral, and he finally relented.

I never expected to uncover this truth.

"Oh God, why are all these truths so bitter?"

One thing lingered in my mind—if Mum had already passed away, why had I still not received her heart?

"I'm sorry, Mum. It's not that I’m not grieving, but I can't trust Scott anymore." I raised my hand, crossing my body in a sign of the cross.

Maybe I should visit the church tomorrow and seek forgiveness from God, for I wished to receive Mum’s heart before I too die.

***

On the third floor of Rosewood Law Chambers, I shook hands with the Rosewood lawyer—family lawyer of the McCarthy’s—swiftly. I sat according to the direction of his hand, on the sofa. He followed me at a slower pace, perhaps due to his age, nearing retirement.

"How can I assist you, Mrs. Byrne?"

"I want to file for divorce from Scott," I said, my voice firm, though my chest felt tight.

The Rosewood lawyer sipped his tea from his porcelain cup before answering. "I can handle that."

I swallowed, then added carefully, "And I want Lulu McCarthy to disappear."

For the first time in this conversation, his calm expression faltered. "I'm sorry?"

"I need a new identity," I said without hesitation. "I don’t want anyone to find me after this."

He studied my face for a moment, perhaps searching for signs that I was joking. But there was no lie in my eyes. I had made up my mind.

"There is someone who can help you," he said finally. "I’ll contact them."

I nodded without asking further. If anyone knew how to make someone vanish, it was surely the person the Rosewood lawyer recommended.

And so, I found myself in front of an old building in the city centre, unmarked, without any flashy lights. Just a black metal door with a nearly faded number above it.

The Vanishing Point.

A place where people disappear.

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of tobacco and old paper. The low ceiling cast long shadows from the dimly swinging chandelier. A man waited for me behind a worn wooden desk, wearing a black shirt and long coat.

"Raven?" I asked, trying to hide my nervousness.

The man looked up, his eyes sharp and calculating.

"Rosewood’s lawyer told me about you," he said. "Tell me what you need."

I took a deep breath. "I need a new identity. No one can trace me, not even my husband."

Raven leaned back in his chair, studying my expression as if trying to gauge how much I understood the world I was stepping into.

"We can do that," he said at last. "But you must understand, this isn’t just about making a fake passport and a new ID. We’ll erase Lulu McCarthy from the world."

"That’s what I want."

He stared at me for several seconds before nodding. "Alright. But I need something from you too."

I tensed. "What?"

"Information about your life, your background, anything that could jeopardise or reveal your new identity later on."

I nodded slowly. "There’s one more thing," I added.

Raven raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.

"I want you to investigate my mother’s death," I said quietly. "She was listed as a heart donor at St. Avalon Health Centre, but she died in an accident three months ago."

Raven was silent for a moment, then reached for the phone on his desk and pressed a button.

"This is a job for Morpheus," he said into the phone.

It didn’t take long before someone entered the room.

Morpheus.

His figure was almost invisible, cloaked in all black, his face hidden in the shadow of his hood. He didn’t speak, only stood at the doorway, watching me silently.

"He wants an investigation into his mother’s death and the heart donor list," Raven said.

Morpheus turned toward me, and that’s when I saw them.

Those eyes.

I froze. Something in me tensed as I locked eyes with his hazel iris. I had seen them before.

But where?

My hands clenched instinctively. The memory was nearly surfacing, but I couldn’t grasp it.

"We can start now," Morpheus’s voice sounded, low and mysterious.

I kept staring into his eyes, my heart racing. I had known him—I was sure of it.

But who was he really?