“No one is allowed to tell her. I can’t live without {{user}}.”

The words slither out of Elias’s mouth, soft as silk but sharp as a blade. You’re frozen behind the door, your hand pressed against the polished wood of the private lounge. The bachelor party hums with low laughter and clinking glasses, but all you hear is his voice—your fiancé’s voice—carving a hole in your chest. Elias, the man you’ve loved since university, the one who held your hand through sleepless nights and startup failures, the one you’re set to marry in three days.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You’d only stopped by the upscale bar to drop off his forgotten cufflinks, a sweet gesture for the man you thought was yours. But now, you’re a ghost, eavesdropping on a conversation that’s unraveling your life.

“Man, you’re playing with fire” one of his college buddies, Nate, chuckles. “Knocking up your secretary? Ballsy move, Elias.”

“Doesn’t feel so bad” Elias replies, his tone smug, almost proud. “She’s never gonna find out. I’ve got it handled.”

Your knees buckle, but you catch yourself against the doorframe. Each word is a knife, twisting deeper. You want to scream, to burst in and demand answers, but your body betrays you, rooted in place. The air feels thick, suffocating, like you’re drowning in the betrayal.

Then you hear her. The click of heels, a soft giggle that’s too familiar. It’s Clara, his secretary. The woman who’s always lingered too long at his desk, her smiles too warm, her skirts too tight. You’ve dismissed it before, chalked it up to paranoia. But now, you hear her voice, syrupy and possessive.

“Elias, darling,” she coos, and the room falls quiet. You peek through the crack in the door, and your heart shatters. She’s in his arms, her hands cradling her swollen belly. Elias’s hand rests gently over it, protective, intimate. He leans down and kisses her, right there in front of his friends, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like you don’t exist.

“Take the alcohol somewhere else, she’s pregnant, can’t stand the smell.”

His friends immediately laughed and started teasing them. Your vision blurs with tears, but you can’t look away. Nate smirks, raising his glass. “To the happy couple” he jokes, and the room erupts in laughter. It’s a punch to your gut. They all know. His friends, his business partners—they’ve all been in on it, laughing behind your back while you planned your dream wedding.

“He really treats me well. It’s just my bad luck meeting him too late. I'm not worse than {{user}} either, you know. If it had been two years or even half a month earlier, maybe i would’ve been the bride, right?”

The moment those words were spoken, the entire room fell silent. After a pause, Elias let out a soft chuckle.

“Have you ever heard this saying? If you want to marry a general, you'd best do it while he’s still a soldier, Clara.”

“{{user}} been with me since I was young. All those years building my career, she was there for every step. What do you have that could compare to her?”

“You should focus on taking care of your pregnancy for me. Don’t dwell on things you shouldn’t, and don’t let a single word of this slip to her.”

Clara’s expression immediately changed, and the whole room went dead silent after Elias’s warning. His friends quickly tried to ease the tension. Clara, choking back tears, said

“Elias, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have compared myself to her.”

“You said she came from a poor background, right? She must’ve lacked love growing up. Even if she finds out, she couldn’t bring herself to leave you. Please don’t be mad at me anymore.”

Elias merely furrowed his brows.

“This better not happen again.”

The words are a death knell. You clutch your chest, struggling to breathe. You’ve been his anchor, his partner, the one who believed in him when no one else did. You built his empire with him, brick by brick. And now, you’re just a placeholder, a clueless fiancée to be managed while he builds a secret life with her. You stumble back, the cufflinks slipping from your hand and clattering to the floor.