Emma Sterling stood in the center of the dining room, adjusting the final candle with careful fingers, holding her breath as if even air could disturb the illusion she had built.
Soft golden light shimmered against crystal glasses and polished silverware, reflecting off marble floors and the towering glass windows that framed the city skyline. Outside, the city glowed—cold, distant, untouchable. Inside, everything was warm.
Perfect.
Exactly how it was supposed to be.
She stepped back, scanning the room once more.
White roses…Dominic's favourite, lined the table, fresh and flawless. Silver cutlery aligned with almost obsessive precision. Deep red wine rested beside two plates she had personally arranged, breathing quietly, waiting.
A small, hopeful smile curved her lips.
"Happy anniversary," she whispered, testing the words aloud.
Five years.
Five years of marriage to Dominic Sterling, heir to the Sterling Group, a man whose name alone commanded rooms, silenced conversations, bent people to his will.
Her hand drifted instinctively to her abdomen.
A subtle warmth bloomed in her chest, fragile and terrifying all at once.
Tonight, she would tell him.
Five years of marriage.
And now… a baby.
Her heart fluttered violently at the thought, a mixture of joy and fear twisting together. This child felt like a promise. A new beginning. Something that might finally bring him back to her.
Emma walked toward the mirror near the hallway and examined herself.
The silk dress hugged her figure softly, elegant, restrained. She had chosen it carefully. Dominic disliked anything flashy. He preferred control. Subtlety. Women who knew their place.
Emma Sterling, his wife… should have been used to luxury by now.
But moments like this still felt breakable.
She checked the time.
8:15 PM.
He was late.
Her smile thinned slightly.
She reached for her phone, hesitated, then checked it again. No new messages. His last text, Running late. Meetings ..had been sent three hours ago.
No follow-up.
No apology.
A small knot formed in her stomach.
Work, she told herself firmly.
Dominic was busy. He was always busy. Power demanded sacrifices. She had learned that early in their marriage.
Still… tonight was different.
Tonight mattered.
Her phone vibrated suddenly.
Her heart leapt… but the screen only displayed a system notification. No message from him.
"Don't overthink," she murmured, forcing a slow breath.
The sound of the front door opening cut through the silence.
Emma straightened instantly.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway…. slow, heavy, deliberate.
Dominic appeared moments later, loosening his tie, dark hair slightly disheveled, hazel eyes shadowed with exhaustion. His presence filled the space effortlessly, commanding without effort.
He was devastatingly handsome.
And impossibly distant.
"You're home," Emma said, unable to hide the softness in her voice.
Dominic's gaze flicked toward the dining room.
It paused for barely a second.
"Oh," he said.
Just one word.
Her chest tightened.
"It's our anniversary," she said lightly, as if reminding him gently might soften the moment.
"Right," he replied, rubbing his forehead. "Long day."
He walked past her toward the couch, dropping his briefcase with a dull thud. The sound echoed louder than it should have.
Emma turned slowly, watching as he loosened his cufflinks. His attention drifted to his phone, fingers moving instinctively, checking something quickly.
The faint glow illuminated his face.
Her smile wavered.
"I made dinner," she said carefully. "Your favorite."
"That's great," he replied automatically, eyes still on the screen.
Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.
Emma swallowed.
Maybe he was just tired.
She moved closer, placing a hand gently on his shoulder.
"I wanted tonight to be special."
Dominic's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"I know," he said quietly. "But I am tired …. Can we do this another day?"
The words sliced deeper than she expected.
Another day.
As if their anniversary were an inconvenience to be rescheduled.
"Oh," she whispered.
He stood, pressing a brief kiss to her forehead—polite, practiced. A gesture that felt more like obligation than affection.
"I'm going to shower. Then I need to sleep."
Emma nodded automatically.
Her hand drifted to her stomach again.
The words she had rehearsed all evening…I'm pregnant… dissolved silently in her throat.
Tomorrow, she told herself.
Tomorrow would be better.
******
An hour later, the candles had burned low.
The dining table remained untouched.
White roses still perfect. Wine glasses still full.
Emma stood near the doorway as Mrs. Collins, the head housekeeper, approached quietly.
"Madam, shall we clear the table?"
For a moment, Emma wanted to say no.
Wanted to freeze the night exactly as it was, before it slipped completely out of her hands.
"Yes," she said finally, her voice distant.
The staff moved efficiently, extinguishing candles one by one, dismantling her careful effort in silence.
The room returned to its usual polished perfection …. beautiful and empty.
Luxury had a strange way of disguising loneliness.
Everything was taken care of.
Except the things that mattered.
Emma turned toward the bedroom.
Dominic was already asleep, one arm thrown across the pillow, breathing deep and steady.
She stood there watching him.
The man she had loved since she was twenty.
The man she had built her entire world around.
A quiet ache settled deep in her chest.
She slipped into bed beside him, careful not to disturb his sleep.
Tomorrow, she promised herself.
Tomorrow she would tell him everything.
******
A faint vibration broke the silence.
Emma's eyes opened slowly.
The room was dark, except for the soft glow of Dominic's phone on the bedside table.
Another vibration.
She turned slightly, blinking.
She wasn't the type to invade privacy.
She never had.
But the screen lit again… bright enough that the message preview caught her eye before she could look away.
Her breath caught.
Unknown Number:
"Everything ready for tomorrow morning. Finally just us 💕No interruptions this time😈."
Emma froze.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Another message appeared.
"Can't wait for our vacation ❤️."
The room felt suddenly too small.
Too quiet.
Too cold.
Her gaze shifted slowly to Dominic.
He didn't move.
Still sleeping.
Still peaceful.
As if nothing in the world had changed.
Emma stared back at the glowing screen, her fingers trembling as another notification appeared.
Tomorrow morning.
Her hand pressed instinctively against her abdomen.
A sharp, unfamiliar fear pierced her chest.
Tomorrow, Dominic had plans.
And she….. and the child growing inside her, were clearly not part of them.
End of Chapter 1
******