The rain wouldn't stop that night.
It poured against the windows like the sky itself was mourning something she hadn't yet lost.
Elara sat alone in the dimly lit living room, the glow of the fireplace flickering across her pale face. The clock above the mantel ticked past midnight, each second gnawing at her chest. Damien still wasn't home. Again.
For ten years, she had waited — for dinners that never happened, for anniversaries he always forgot, for a love that had quietly turned to dust. She told herself he was just busy, that this was what marriage looked like for powerful men. She had learned to smile through loneliness, to pretend it didn't hurt.
But tonight… something felt different.
Something inside her whispered that it was time to stop pretending.
Her phone buzzed on the table. A message. From him.
Damien: Don't wait up. I have a meeting.
Elara stared at the screen. A meeting. At 12:17 a.m. In the middle of a storm.
Her chest tightened with a familiar ache, but this time, she didn't swallow it down.
She grabbed her coat and keys.
The city was half-asleep, the streets slick with rain as she drove through the dark. Her heart pounded against her ribs, a steady drum of anger, fear, and something else — dread.
She knew his habits. The lies had patterns. And tonight, every instinct screamed at her to go to the Rosewood Hotel — the same place he'd once taken her on their anniversary.
When she reached the suite, she hesitated for only a moment before swiping the spare card she knew he kept in the car. The lock clicked open.
The sound that greeted her wasn't silence. It was laughter. Soft, intimate… feminine.
Her step-sister's voice.
Elara froze. The room tilted. Her breath caught as she stepped inside and saw them — Damien, shirt unbuttoned, his hand tangled in Lila's hair.
Her world stopped.
Lila turned first, a smirk curling her lips. "Oh. Sister. Didn't expect you to show up tonight."
Elara's voice came out broken, barely a whisper. "You…"
Damien didn't even look ashamed. "You shouldn't have come here."
Her heart shattered with each word. "Ten years, Damien. Ten years, and this is what I was to you?"
He sighed, as if she was the problem. "You were convenient, Elara. A good wife, for a while. But Lila—she's the one I actually love."
The pain was sharp, raw. But worse than the betrayal was the realization that everyone had known. Her father, her stepmother… even Lila's fake smiles at family dinners made sense now.
Her voice trembled. "Did you ever love me at all?"
Lila's laughter cut through the silence. "Oh, come on, sister. You were just keeping his seat warm. Don't look so surprised."
Something inside Elara broke. The tears wouldn't come anymore. Just… emptiness.
She walked out quietly, rain soaking through her coat as she stepped into the night. Her mind was a blur — ten years of devotion, erased in an instant.
When she reached the bridge overlooking the river, the world felt quiet again. Peaceful, even.
Her phone buzzed — one last message from her grandfather, unread until now:
Grandpa: My sweet girl, don't lose yourself trying to please those who never deserved your heart.
Elara smiled faintly through the tears that finally fell.
"I'm sorry, Grandpa," she whispered. "I was too late to listen."
The storm swallowed her voice as she took one final step forward.
And in the cold, merciless rain — Elara Vance fell into the darkness.