Lia had been fighting a quiet war inside her own mind.
Everything still looked perfect on the outside — the penthouse, the view, the man she married — but something in the air had changed. Slightly. Quietly. Like the scent of a storm before it comes.
Chris still smiled. Still kissed her forehead. Still called her "darling."
But sometimes, when his phone buzzed, he would quickly flip it face-down.
Sometimes, he'd take calls in another room — with the door closed.
It wasn't enough to call it cheating.
But it was enough to make her heart whisper:
Be careful. Something's not right.
That evening, as Lia returned from the private gym on the 130th floor, she passed by one of the shared lounges.
She paused.
Voices. Low. Familiar.
Lisa's.
And Chris's.
"…We have to be more careful. She's not stupid," Lisa said.
"I've got it under control," Chris replied calmly.
Lia froze behind the wall.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She couldn't hear everything, but she heard enough.
Their tones were too close. Too... coordinated.
She didn't walk in.
She didn't make a sound.
She turned back and left before they noticed.
Her heart thundered all the way up to the penthouse.
Later that night, she stood near the bedroom window.
Chris walked in behind her, his arms full of her favorite flowers — white orchids.
"I missed you today," he said, gently wrapping his arms around her.
She didn't answer.
He looked at her. "Everything okay?"
She hesitated. She almost said it.
Almost asked him what he and Lisa were talking about in that lounge.
But just then — her phone rang.
She answered without looking.
It was the hospital.
"Miss Blanche? Your mother has been admitted. She collapsed this afternoon. You should come quickly."
The world fell away.
All the doubts, the suspicions, the strange tension…
It all vanished beneath a tidal wave of panic.
Her mother.
Within an hour, Chris had booked a private flight. He helped her pack, held her hand the whole way to the airport, and promised to take care of everything while she was gone.
In the car, he kissed her knuckles and said,
"Don't worry about anything else. I've got you."
She wanted to hold on to her anger. Her instinct. Her gut feeling.
But in that moment, she was someone's daughter — not someone's suspicious wife.
And as the plane lifted into the sky, the city falling away beneath her feet, she let the doubts go...
For now.
Because right now, there were more important things than secrets.
But deep in her chest, a quiet voice still whispered:
You saw something real. Don't forget it.