Fake Vows, Real Love: The CEO's Wife

a life with the man I loved. I gave up everything to support Ben's ca

Haylie. He called me a "stepping stone," a poor, simple girl h

ing it a necessary prop. He was sleeping with her, taking credit for the multi-m

saw me as less than nothing. My love didn

and straight into the arms o

a deal I cou

th a smirk. "And together, we'll

pte

hing more than a poor, ambitionless stepping stone, a distraction from his real ambition – his powerful boss, Haylie White, and the fortune she represented. It was a brutal punch to the gut, a betrayal that tore through every

d for Ben to present as his own. It was supposed to be his big break, the promotion he desperately wanted, a testament to his ambition. My engagement ring, a simple silver band he' d given me to mark our "humble beginnings," felt heavy on my finger. I had sacrificed

harp, unmistakable. Ben' s was softer, a deferential murmur. Curiosity, a serpent in my stomach, compelled me closer to the wall. I pressed m

aylie drawled, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

eded to hear Ben' s modest acceptance, his acknowledgmen

ced with a smug confidence I had never heard directed a

into my bones. What

ed for you. The little analyst, isn't she?" The way she said "little analy

rtment and her junior analyst role. She doesn't understand the real game, the stakes involved." He paused, and I heard a rustle, a soft thud. "She' s a good distrac

nd the real game. My blood ran cold. My vision blurred. I pressed harder against

ne, indeed. And what about your engagement? She' s flashing

lding a future. She even helped me 'secure' this deal, thinking she was contributing

uffled groan. A gasp, then Hayli

acrifices, my very existence in his world. He had seen me, Isolde Park, heiress to a multi-billion dollar tech empire, as a poor, ambitionless fool. He saw me as a pawn. A stepping stone. My carefully constructed facade of nor

y love for him used to be. My hand trembled as I picked up the pen again. The merger agreement lay open. This deal

led, blurring the important details into an incomprehensible mess. Then, I tore the document into tiny pieces, the sound a ragged ec

oss the screen. My father's contact, Alger Park's name, stared back at me. No, not

nnounce th

. The old Isolde, the one who sought normalcy and quiet validation, was

flickered from the living room. Ben sat on the sofa, a half-eaten pizza box on

miliar, the same tone he used for countless evenings, the same gentle cadence th

y voice was flat, even to my own ears. I walked past him, my gaze sweeping over the apartme

nt. Always keeping me late." He chuckled, a disarming sound. He moved to

esh. My blood ran cold, but my expression remained impassive. I focused on his shirt, the same crisp

st detached. It was a test. A final, desperate attempt to see

nute prep for the big merger proposal. You know Haylie. She's a st

stumble against the wall. "Ugh, I'm

ckly being replaced by a feigned concern. "Poor thing. You sho

lie White' s perfume. Expensive. Distinctive. It clung to him, a

said, my voice barely a whisper. I

morning," he called out, a

t a dull ache in my chest. I stood there, eyes closed, letting the full weight of his betrayal wash over

mbol of his deceit. I wanted to rip it off, to throw it against the wall, to erase every trace of him. But I

y voice soft. "Ben," I began, watching him carefully. "Do you ever wonder if you made the right choices in life? If you're truly

hing but mild confusion. He had no idea the trap I was laying. He was abo