My Groom Let Me Die to Save His Mistress

The hospital room door swung open, and I straightened against the pillows, my heart leaping into my throat. After weeks of captivity, nightmares, and the devastating news of my parents' death, I was finally going home. Finally going back to Ander.

But the face that appeared in the doorway wasn't what I expected.

Ivy Russell stepped in first, her designer heels clicking against the linoleum floor. Her crimson lips curved into a smile that never reached her eyes. Behind her, Ander stood frozen, his face a mask I couldn't read.

"Look who's here to pick you up," Ivy said sweetly, her manicured hand resting possessively on Ander's arm.

I blinked, certain I was hallucinating. "Ander?"

He stepped forward, but there was no warmth in his movements. No relief. No love.

"Elaina." My name sounded foreign on his lips. "You're being released today."

"Of course I am." I pushed myself up, wincing at the pain still radiating through my body. "You came to take me home."

Something flickered in his eyes—pain? Guilt? It vanished too quickly to identify.

"Ivy's arranged for a car," he said, his voice flat. "She thought it might be better if you stayed somewhere else. To... recover."

"What?" The word came out as a croak. "I'm going to our apartment."

"Elaina." He sighed, running a hand through his hair—a gesture so familiar it made my chest ache. "Things have... changed while you were gone."

"Changed?" I repeated stupidly.

Ivy stepped closer, her perfume overwhelming me. "Ander and I have grown close during this crisis. We've found a connection."

"A connection?" I stared at him, waiting for him to deny it, to push her away, to tell me this was all some horrible mistake.

Instead, he nodded. "I think we've both realized we want different things now."

"Different things?" My voice cracked. "My parents are dead, Ander. They're gone because of these people, and you're telling me you've found a connection with her?"

"You need to rest," he said dismissively, avoiding my eyes. "We'll talk about this later."

---

Three days later, I stood in Ander's penthouse, watching Ivy arrange flowers in a crystal vase. She'd insisted on hosting a "welcome home" dinner for me—a cruel joke considering I felt anything but welcome.

"More wine, Elaina?" Ivy held out the bottle, her smile predatory.

"No, thank you." I clutched my glass tighter, watching how she moved around Ander's kitchen as if she owned it. As if she owned him.

Ander entered, his tie loosened from the office. Ivy immediately went to him, her fingers trailing down his chest in a gesture so intimate I had to look away.

"You look tired," she murmured to him, loud enough for me to hear. "Rough day?"

"The Westridge deal fell through," he replied, his eyes darting to me briefly before returning to her.

"Poor baby." Ivy pressed against him, her hand sliding to his waist. "Let me make it better."

I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. "I need to go."

"Elaina, wait." Ander's voice stopped me at the door.

For a moment, hope flared in my chest. But then I saw it—the slight nod from Ivy, the way Ander's posture stiffened.

"Just... trust me," he whispered, his eyes pleading in a way I couldn't understand.

"Trust you?" I laughed bitterly. "I don't even know who you are anymore."

---

I found it by accident—a crumpled paper in the trash can of Ander's home office. An itinerary for Paris, the city he'd promised we'd honeymoon in. The same trip he'd planned for my graduation gift.

My hands trembled as I smoothed out the paper. Flight confirmations, hotel reservations, a list of restaurants and museums—all the places we'd dreamed of visiting together.

"He remembered," I whispered to myself, clutching the paper to my chest. Despite everything, despite Ivy, he'd kept our plans.

I heard voices in the hallway and hurried toward them, the itinerary clutched in my hand.

"Ander!" I called out, rounding the corner into the living room.

He stood by the window, his back to me. Ivy sat on the couch, wearing a black beret at a jaunty angle.

"Look what I found," I said, holding up the paper. "You kept our plans. You still want to go to Paris with me, don't you?"

Ander turned slowly, his face unreadable. Before he could speak, Ivy rose from the couch and crossed to him, slipping her arm through his.

"What a wonderful surprise," she purred. "I've never been to Paris for my birthday. Thank you, darling."

I stared at her, then at Ander. "Birthday?"

"Elaina," Ander said quietly, "I'm taking Ivy to Paris. For her birthday."

The itinerary slipped from my fingers as tears blurred my vision. I watched Ander's face as I crumpled against the wall, waiting for any sign of the man I loved—any flicker of remorse or regret.

His eyes met mine, empty and distant, as he watched me break apart.