Another lonely birthday

Anastasia

The distant murmur of the domestic staff made me wonder if I had been naïve, sitting alone on the balcony of the grand estate that belonged to my husband. It was my birthday, another one spent in solitude, waiting for him. It had always been like this—waiting for his attention, waiting for him to share a meal with me.

“Mrs. Winfrey,” Naomi’s voice interrupted my thoughts, drawing me back to the present.

“Yes, Naomi?” I turned, raising an eyebrow at her interruption.

“Um…” she hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of her apron, uncharacteristically unsure of herself. “Well…”

“Naomi, you’re never this hesitant. What is it?”

Naomi was the most outspoken of all the staff and the one closest to me. Her hesitation only made me more curious.

“Well, Mrs. Winfrey,” she began, avoiding my gaze, “do you really think waiting for Mr. Winfrey is necessary? You always wait for him on days like this, and he ne—”

“He will come,” I cut her off, turning my eyes away from her. I suspected that she's delivering the same unusual gossip as the others kept muttering nonstop. “Naomi, you know better than to bring the staff’s gossip to me.”

“It’s past dinner time, and the house feels like we’re mourning... The others are worried,” she said, her tone dry but her concern evident.

I sighed, finally meeting her gaze. Naomi, in her early thirties, was someone I sometimes envied. She was married to one of the kindest men I knew. They both worked for us, and yet they were content, happy even.

“Have the chefs dispose off the dishes,” I instructed, my voice firm. “But leave the ones I made for Quinn. Birthdays are better celebrated at night.”

She gave me a look, one that silently reminded me of the truth I had been denying for so long—that Quinn didn’t care for me the way a husband should. That my birthday was nothing special, not even the least to him.

I am alone in this, alone to wander off in my solitude.

“My husband doesn’t love me,” I knew it. Everyone knew it.

“Mr. Charter is here... He’s the reason for the murmur,” Naomi explained, trying to steer the conversation away from the sensitive topic and also trying to evidently tell me my speculations about her conveying the gossip of the others to me were false.

“Fleur?” I asked, lifting my head. “Alone?”

“Yes,” she confirmed before turning to leave. “He’s alone.”

I sighed deeply, rising from my chair to go meet Quinn’s personal assistant. Fleur worked closely with my husband, so his presence here had to be related to Quinn.

As I walked down the hallway towards the living room, I noticed that Naomi had already dismissed the other staff. I opened the door to find Fleur standing there, holding a basket of flowers against his chest.

“Mrs. Anastasia” he greeted, bowing slightly. A smile tugged at my lips when I saw the flowers.

“Happy birthday.”

“Oh my goodness! My husband sent these?” I asked, unable to contain my excitement as I moved closer to accept the basket. Flowers were my secret love, something only Naomi knew. And now my heart swelled at the fact that my husband knows as well.

“No,” he said, his confusion evident. “Mr. Winfrey didn’t send me here.”

“Oh...” I muttered, the smile faltering as I accept the gift.

“You’re a beneficiary of the company, so it’s customary to wish you well,” he explained, his smile broadening.

“Well, that’s... thoughtful,” I forced out with a smile that didn't reach my eyes, glancing at the wall clock. It was past ten.

“And your boss?” I asked, trying to mask my curiosity. “I haven’t seen him yet.”

“He’ll be running late, Mrs. Anastasia.”

I frowned. Fleur had always called me by my first name, but today it felt particularly grating.

“I advise you not to wait for him,” he added, bowing again before heading towards the door.

“Wait,” I called out. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?”

That wasn’t what I wanted to say. I wanted to ask him why I shouldn’t wait for Quinn, where my husband was, and what was going on.

“Thank you, Mrs. Anastasia, but—”

“Mrs. Winfrey,” I corrected, a bit of irritation seeping into my voice. “Isn’t it logical to address me by my husband’s last name? We are married, legally.”

He smiled, bowing once more. “Very well then. Goodnight, Ma’am.”

He left, closing the door behind him. I stood there, feeling the weight of the silence around me.

“You lashing out at him wasn’t necessary,” Naomi said from behind me, making me jump. She reached out to me but quickly pulled back. “The fact that Mr. Winfrey’s company acknowledged your birthday means he cares.”

“I never said he didn’t care, Naomi. Just... don’t say anything more tonight.”

“Sure, Ma’am,” she replied quietly. “But the food... it’s getting cold.”

“I know, Naomi. Leave it. He’ll be here soon.”

“It’s almost midnight, Mrs. Winfrey,” she said, her worry palpable. “You haven’t eaten anything, and...”

“I will when he returns. I promise,” I said, sitting at the table, staring at the untouched dishes. My birthday cake sat there, the candles unlit, the night slipping away. “Go to bed, and say hello to Caleb for me. I’m sorry for keeping you so late.”

“You’re not dismissing me, are you?” she asked, stubborn as always. “You aren't going to seat there and wait for Mr. Winfrey alone, right?”

“I am. Please, don’t argue with me tonight. I’m too tired.” I forced the words out, already so broken to say more. If Naomi will leave me alone, then maybe I can brood on what exactly my offences are.

“That’s because you haven’t eaten anything,” she added, making me sigh in frustration.

“Just... go. Please,” I pleaded, resting my head against the back of the chair and closing my eyes. “Goodnight.”

“Alright,” she relented. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

The silence that followed Naomi’s departure was almost suffocating. My mind drifted back to the day I married Quinn, believing it was my happiest day ever. But reality had been harsh. The luxury he provided was undeniable, but it came at the cost of my happiness.

I would have been content if our marriage was an arranged one. Quinn had come to me with love, one I believed he had for me. But I love him, and no matter how hard I try to be happy, I always end up suckling at the lack of attention I get.

A visitor

I glanced again at the wall clock, and tears filled my eyes. It was midnight, and Quinn still wasn’t home.

He was a busy man, involved in many things, from being an entrepreneur to managing his businesses. I understood that. But asking for a little time together wasn’t too much, was it?

Besides it was my birthday, my fucking birthday!

Feeling a tightness in the back of my neck, I stood up. It was clear now; Quinn wasn’t coming home tonight. Perhaps I had been selfish to expect otherwise. We never really celebrated his birthday either.

As I climbed the stairs, memories of our early days together flooded my mind. The only good times were when we were dating—if a few random visits could even be called dates.

I pushed open the door to our bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, my hair falling over my face, shielding me from the light above. I wanted to brush it away, but I couldn’t find the strength. Soon, sleep claimed me, bringing a temporary end to my misery.

A loud knock on the bedroom door startled me awake. I blinked groggily, glancing at the clock—it was just past two in the morning.

I forced myself out of bed and opened the door, only to be shoved aside by Quinn. Raymond was with him.

“You sleep like a log too?” Quinn’s voice was rough, his appearance disheveled yet still strikingly handsome. Even in his drunken state, he managed to show his disdain for me.

“Hi, Anastasia,” Ray greeted, pushing Quinn into my arms. “Sorry for bringing him home like this... he had a bit too much to drink.”

Ray was Quinn’s closest friend, and a bad influence at that. I never liked him, but Quinn was not someone easily swayed by others.

“Oh...” I muttered, trying to steady Quinn as he leaned heavily on me, pushing me against the wall.

Ray gave us a quick glance before tapping Quinn on the shoulder. “Don’t get too carried away, man. She arrives tomorrow.”

“She?” I asked, confused, but Quinn’s intense gaze held me captive. It was unlike him to look at me this way, with a warmth I had never seen before.

“Why did you leave me?” he suddenly asked, pulling me closer. “Just why?”

“Quinn, you’re drunk. Don’t do something you’ll regret,” I whispered, my heart racing. I couldn’t resist him, but I feared the aftermath.

“I want you now...” he murmured, pressing me tightly against his chest before his lips crashed into mine.

I was stunned, but I kissed him back. I loved Quinn, and I wasn’t going to waste this rare moment of affection. I closed my eyes, savoring the taste of him. But before I could fully immerse myself in the kiss, he pushed me onto the bed, tearing my clothes off with a roughness that shattered the fragile illusion of love.

He took me quickly, without tenderness, leaving me no time to even call his name. The act was over as abruptly as it began, a stark reminder that being his wife was a title I should be grateful to hold.

Quinn pulled away, and I knew instantly that the man I loved was gone, replaced by the cold, distant version of him I had grown accustomed to.

I looked away, not wanting to see the hatred in his eyes. I didn’t want to be reminded that I meant nothing to him.

He stood up, heading to the drawer where he kept a bottle of pills. I knew what was coming. He would insist I take them, to erase any trace of this unwanted encounter.

He threw the pills at me, along with a bottle of water.

“Take them,” he ordered me to take the pills, watching me intently as I shakily opened the bottle and swallowed two. I washed them down with half the water in the glass, my hands trembling.

When I finally looked up at him, my eyes burned with unshed tears. He pulled open a drawer and took out an envelope, walking toward me with deliberate steps. Confused, I took the envelope from him, my brow furrowing as I tried to make sense of it.

“What’s this?” I forced the words out, my voice cracking as I fought to keep my composure.

“We’re getting a divorce,” he said flatly, shrugging into his suit jacket. “I want those signed before I return.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I clutched the envelope tighter, my chest tightening as I struggled to process what he’d just said.

“A divorce?” I whispered, the word tasting foreign on my tongue. “Why? Why do we need a divorce?”

He gave me a blank stare, his expression cold and unfeeling. He adjusted his jacket, clearly ready to leave again.

“Do as you're told, Anastasia, and don't ask questions. I’m done with this farce we call a marriage,” he said, turning on his heel and walking out of the room.

Not wanting to let him leave, I quickly wrapped the blanket around myself and followed closely behind him, still concerned about his state of mind. He was obviously extremely drunk when Rey brought him in.

“What on earth is this, Quinn?” My voice trembled, the words barely holding together as I felt myself unravelling. “You're not doing this on my birthday, are you?” I asked, tears blurring my vision as he turned and glared at me with disdain. “You can’t leave me like this after I sacrificed three whole years of my life for you!”

“And I'm giving you a chance to be free. Isn’t that better?” he shot back, reaching for the dreaded file I clutched tightly in my hands. “Consider this a birthday gift and leave. I’ll make sure you get all the benefits from the divorce.”

“You’re...”

“Leave, Anastasia.” He cut me off sharply. “Leave now and say nothing more. You can have the Ferrari or one of the estates in Paris as part of the settlement... just go.”

Just go!

I marvelled at how easily those words slipped from his tongue, as if they meant nothing. My eyes stung with fresh tears. I knew Quinn never loved me—it was always obvious to anyone who wasn’t family. But I never imagined his hatred ran this deep.

I stumbled backward, my heart shattering into a thousand pieces as he tightened his grip on his suit jacket.

“Quinn,” I called out, but the only thing I saw in his eyes was determination—determination to get rid of me.

“Addison will be here later today to finalise the divorce. Don’t be stubborn, Anastasia,” he said coldly, before turning and leaving the house.

I watched him walk away, and then I crumbled to the floor, doing the only thing I knew how to do: crying.

His mistress

Anastasia

“Ana,” Naomi's gentle voice called out from behind me as I sat motionless, staring at the papers Quinn had given me earlier.

I didn’t know how long I had been sitting there, but my body felt numb and weak.

Hearing Naomi's voice pulled me back to reality, and I quickly scrambled to my feet, wiping my eyes so she wouldn’t see how broken I felt.

“You’ve been sitting here for a long time,” she added, concern laced in her words.

I turned slightly to face her, but I couldn’t bear to fully meet her gaze. Instead, I walked past her in silence, the blanket still wrapped tightly around me, and headed toward the stairs where she stood.

Naomi knew better than to ask if I was okay.

My footsteps echoed in the quiet house as I hurried to the room Quinn and I shared. I collapsed onto the bed, Quinn's words stinging more now that I'm alone.

He wanted a divorce.

I couldn’t sleep. My mind raced with thoughts, each thought greater and making me uneasy every minute.

 Where was Quinn? Where had he gone in the middle of the night? Every possible scenario played out in my head.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand; the clock showed it was well past three in the morning. My heart pounded as I scrolled through my recent calls, all to Quinn, all unanswered.

I had called him countless times while I sat on the balcony yesterday, waiting for him to come home.

With trembling hands, I dialled his number again.

It went to voicemail. I needed him to explain what he meant by Addison coming over to finalise this. There was no way I was going to divorce him without understanding what I had done wrong.

I tried again, and again, and again. Each time, the call ended with no one picking up. I decided to give it one last try.

The ringing seemed to last an eternity before it abruptly stopped. For a moment, all I heard was silence, and then…

“Veronica…”

He said the name softly, almost tenderly, followed by the rustling of sheets. My breath caught in my throat. Veronica.

Her name was all I had heard him whisper almost every night since I married Quinn. I had asked Naomi, and she confirmed what I feared—Veronica was his ex. The woman he never spoke about, the woman I always suspected held a piece of his heart I could never reach.

Before I could say anything, the call ended. The silence that followed was deafening, as if the entire world had gone mute. I stared at the phone in disbelief, my mind struggling to catch up with what I had just heard.

Veronica.

Her name echoed in my mind, each repetition more painful than the last. I felt like I was suffocating, my heartbeat louder with each thud.

Desperate for answers, I opened my social media apps, hoping to find some explanation, some reassurance that this was all a horrible misunderstanding. But instead, what I found made my blood run cold.

Pictures of Quinn and Veronica Rodriguez, a model, were everywhere. They were plastered all over the internet, smiling together at a lavish party. Her arm was draped casually over his shoulder, her head tilted toward him in a way that made my stomach churn.

But something stung me in the pictures of the extremely pretty woman in his embrace.

She looked like me.

 It was uncanny how much we resembled each other.

The resemblance was haunting—the same dark hair, the same delicate features. But where I looked tired, worn out from years of trying to hold our marriage together, she looked radiant, glowing with confidence and joy.

The headlines were brutal, speculating about their rekindled romance, about Quinn leaving me for her. My hands shook as I read each article, each comment tearing my world apart piece by piece.

The World seemed to be rooting for them. I felt like an impostor in my own marriage.

How could he do this to me? How could he so easily replace me with someone who was, in so many ways, just like me?

 Then realisation hit me like a ton of bricks—he had never truly loved me. I was just a placeholder, a substitute for the woman he really wanted.

No wonder Quinn came to me himself. He offered a helping hand when I needed it.

My head hurts a lot from just remembering that night at the coffee shop. The way he looked at me, his eyes following my every move. They had a lot of surprises in them.

Tears streamed down my face as I curled up on the bed, clutching the phone to my chest. The pain was unbearable, a deep, gnawing ache that consumed me. I had given everything to this marriage, sacrificed so much, only to be discarded like I was nothing.

Veronica Rodriguez. The name would haunt me forever.

I tried to calm myself, taking deep, shaky breaths, but nothing worked. The tears kept coming, the despair overwhelming. The woman in those pictures, the woman Quinn was with, was everything I wasn’t—confident, successful, adored. And he had chosen her over me.

No… he didn’t choose her over me; he just went back to the arms that gave him solace.

I thought back to our wedding day, to the vows we made to each other. I had believed in those promises, believed that we would build a life together. But now, it felt like a cruel joke, like I had been living in a dream that had finally turned into a nightmare.

I knew I had to confront him, to demand answers, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. I was paralyzed by the pain, by the betrayal. My mind kept going back to the phone call, to the way he had said her name with so much tenderness. It was a stark contrast to the way he had spoken to me earlier tonight, with nothing but coldness and disdain.

It occurred to me yet again why he came home drunk and had sex with me. He must have thought I was her.

I glared at the bed, at the room we had both shared and I can't help the pang of pain rising yet again. Quinn must have had numerous mind-blowing fun with her here.

As the night wore on, I felt myself slipping into numbness, a cold, empty void where the pain couldn’t reach me. I welcomed it, needing it to survive what was happening. My heart had been shattered into a thousand pieces, and I didn’t know if I could ever put it back together.

Morning light began to filter through the curtains, and I knew that soon the world would wake up and carry on as if nothing had happened. But for me, everything had changed. My marriage, my life, the man I loved—it was all over.

And all that was left was the unbearable silence of an empty house, and the knowledge that Quinn was somewhere out there with her.

Veronica Rodriguez.

Pushing myself off the bed with so much energy I had no idea I was in possession of, I decided it's now I go seek for answers.

Divorce papers

Anastasia

"Mrs. Winfrey... my God, you're all dressed up. May I know where you're going?" Naomi's voice held a mix of surprise and confusion as she spotted me descending the stairs. I could see the shock in her eyes, as if she had been preparing to console me, perhaps even coax me into coming down for breakfast. The sight of me, dressed and walking briskly, was clearly the last thing she expected.

But I was done being the obedient wife who waits eagerly for her husband to come home with an explanation. For three long years, I had played that role—waiting, hoping, believing. But not anymore. I had reached my breaking point. I needed to know if there was anything left to salvage or if my marriage was truly over.

"I will be home soon, Naomi," I replied, my voice calm and controlled as I headed for the door. I couldn’t tell her where I was going; she would only try to stop me.

The drive to Quinn’s company felt surreal. My mind raced with thoughts of what I would say, how I would demand the answers I deserved. I feel so uneasy, each mile brings me closer to the confrontation I both dreaded and craved.

When I arrived at the building, I pushed through the glass doors with more force than necessary, my determination barely masking the anxiety that churned within me. The lobby was alive with movement, employees bustling about, none of them spared me a second glance as I made my way to the reception desk, my heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor.

I had never been to Quinn’s company before and might never have, had circumstances not demanded it. Now, I had no choice.

“I’m here to see Quinn Winfrey,” I announced, my voice more confident than I felt as I stood before the brunette woman behind the desk.

The receptionist, a young woman with impeccably styled hair and a cold, detached expression, barely looked up from her computer. “Do you have an appointment?” she asked in a monotone, her fingers tapping away at the keyboard.

“I’m his wife,” I replied, though the words felt hollow even to me.

The receptionist finally lifted her gaze, her eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and disdain. “His wife?” she repeated, as if the very notion was absurd. “I wasn’t aware Mr. Winfrey was married.”

That must be a joke. For three years, I had been Quinn’s wife, yet here I was, standing before someone who had no idea I even existed. The realisation sent a cold shiver down my spine—had Quinn hidden me from everyone in his life?

For Pete's sake, our marriage was public knowledge—it had been all over the internet. How could she not know?

“Yes, I’m his wife,” I insisted, though my voice trembled slightly now. “I need to see him.”

The receptionist raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with her colleague beside her. A small, condescending smile played at her lips as she looked back at me. “We get people like you every day, claiming to be someone important to Mr. Winfrey. But without an appointment, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

She didn’t just say that to me. People like me? How many women had come here, pretending to be a part of Quinn’s life? And why did no one know I was actually his wife?

I opened my mouth to protest, to tell her I wasn’t just another one of his many admirers, that I was the woman he had promised to love and cherish. I could have told her to look on the internet for confirmation. But before I could say anything, the elevator doors slid open, and my heart nearly stopped.

Quinn stepped out, his tall frame imposing and commanding as always. But he wasn’t alone. Veronica Rodriguez was by his side, her hand resting casually on his arm as if she belonged there. They looked like the perfect couple—beautiful, glamorous, untouchable.

My breath caught in my throat as I watched them together, the ease with which they moved, the way they seemed to fit so perfectly. Veronica’s laughter rang through the lobby, light and carefree, as if she hadn’t a worry in the world. The employees around them bowed in respect, their gazes filled with admiration and envy.

I had always lived in the shadows. Today, I knew that more than ever.

My mind struggled to process what I was seeing, my worst fears manifesting before my very eyes.

She does look like me. A lot more than she did in the pictures.

“Quinn!” I called out, my voice shaky and desperate. I saw him hesitate for a fraction of a second before he turned towards me, his expression unreadable.

Veronica looked at me curiously, her hand still on Quinn’s arm, but it was his reaction that shattered me. There was no recognition, no warmth in his eyes—just cold, detached indifference. It was as if I were a stranger, an inconvenience he had to deal with.

“Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” I demanded, my voice breaking. “I’ve been trying to reach you all night! Your staff—they wouldn’t let me in. They laughed at me when I said I was your wife! How could you allow that?”

I could feel the stares of everyone in the lobby, but I didn’t care. I was beyond caring. The humiliation, the pain, it all came pouring out, and I was powerless to stop it. I just wanted the world to know my spot was right there, where she stood, beside him.

Quinn’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something—anger, embarrassment?—crossing his features. But before he could respond, Veronica’s voice cut through the tension, calm and composed.

“Quinn, maybe we should take this somewhere private,” she suggested, her tone gentle, as if she were trying to soothe a wild animal. “There’s no need to cause a scene.”

We? I laughed bitterly.

Her words only made me feel worse. She was playing the role of the considerate, composed woman, while I stood there, unravelling in front of everyone. I hated her at that moment, not just for being with Quinn, but for being everything I wasn’t—calm, confident, and in control.

But I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t just stand there and watch them walk away as if I were nothing.

“She’s the reason?” I cried, taking a step towards Quinn. “The reason you treated me like trash, as if I was nothing to you. I’m your wife, Quinn! I deserve an explanation!”

Quinn’s eyes darkened, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Anastasia, you need to leave,” he said coldly. “This isn’t the place for this kind of conversation.”

This wasn’t the place? When had he ever made time for me, for us, in private? The hurt in my chest grew unbearable, and I knew I was losing control.

“You are—” I was interrupted by the wave of his hand.

“Security,” Quinn called out, his voice harsh and final. “Please escort Mrs. Winfrey out of the building.”

Mrs. Winfrey. How perfect.

He had never called me that, and just when he needed the world to know I was nothing to him, he referred to me with his last name, telling the world that I was that wife in the shadows, the one no one was aware of. I wished he had just called me by my name.

I didn’t fight as the security guards approached, their hands gentle yet firm as they guided me towards the exit. I was too numb to resist, too broken to care anymore. My legs felt like they could barely hold me up as I was led out of the building, my heart shattering with each step.

As the doors closed behind me, I caught one last glimpse of Quinn and Veronica. She leaned in close to him, her lips moving as she whispered something in his ear. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I saw the way he looked at her—soft, almost tender.

And then she turned, her gaze meeting mine for just a moment. There was something in her eyes, a flicker of surprise. “She looks familiar,” I heard her say faintly before the doors swung shut.

I stood there, alone and discarded. How has my life come to this? How had I become nothing more than a shadow in Quinn’s life, someone to be forgotten and cast aside?

Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled out of the building, my heart heavy with the weight of everything I had lost. My marriage, my dignity, my sense of self—it was all gone, leaving me hollow and aching.

As I walked away from the company, with no place in mind to go, I realised that it was truly best for both of us to go our separate ways.

Five

ANA

"What happened to you Ana? Where on earth did you go to?" Naomi asked with concern the minute I walked towards the entrance.

She'd been waiting for me at the entrance door like a mother whose child was yet to return from an errand. 

Unable to speak or react to my surroundings, I walked past her straight to my room and broke into tears the moment I closed the door behind me.

The numbness spread to my legs and I released myself onto the cold floor, doing the only thing that I knew how to do best - cry.

"What's going on Ana, you need to speak to me," Naomi called from the other side of the door as she pounded gently on it.

She knew that I was having issues with Quinn but she was clueless as to where I went to and why I had come back home looking more downcast than I had left the house.

It all seemed like a bad joke.

Quinn had always despised me and I had taken all his attitudes with a smile but what I couldn't understand was why he wanted to get a divorce when I didn't do anything wrong.

Naomi gave up on knocking at my door and walked away when she saw that I wasn't going to open the door or reply to her.

After some minutes of crying, I wiped my tears and lay motionless in the room, thoughts of the few happy moments I had with Quinn replaying in my mind and fresh tears stung my eyes.

All these years I'd been asking what I did wrong, what about me changed so much that made him hate me this much but I just discovered that I wasn't the problem. I was only a side piece he used to bear the loss of his main chick.

A loud knock on the door disrupted my thoughts.

It was nothing like Naomi's gentle knocks and soft persuasion, it was more like an angry knock.

Just when I pushed myself up, the voice sounded from the other side of the door and it was nothing like that of the man I married three years ago.

"Why does she take so much time to open the door? She still thinks this is her house?" Quinn queried. 

"Don't be too hard on her dear, maybe she needs some time alone to process the change and gather her belongings to move out." Veronica's voice chipped but there was something about her voice that enraged me.

She spoke and carried herself like she was the big one as she tried to calm Quinn down but I heard the sneer in her voice. I could hear the mockery she relayed to me through her words.

"Well I don't have such free time to give her." Quinn barked and resumed knocking relentlessly on the door.

How could he bring his lover to the house after humiliating me in front of her at the office?

He wanted to see me break.

I quickly wiped off any tears that were on my cheeks and unlocked the door.

The first thing I saw when I swung the door open was Veronica's hand, rubbing Quinn's chest and their gaze locked into each other's.

In my three years of marriage to Quinn, I've never seen him look at me in such a tender manner. 

I shifted my gaze immediately and walked into the room but Quinn's voice followed me inside.

"Are you done packing your things? Veronica needs space to put her things." 

I turned at his words and that was when my eyes caught the big bag that sat beside Veronica. 

She was moving in the same day I was moving out?!

Not only did he humiliate me in front of her, he brought her to the house to watch me leave.

That was the last straw to break the camel's back and for the first time in three years, I didn't feel the need to answer my husband's humiliating questions.

I walked to the bed and picked up the envelope that held the divorce papers, took a pen from the drawer underneath my dressing table and signed the paper.

I picked up my already arranged box-most of my clothes were in my box-only my stay-at-home clothes were in the wardrobe and I could do without them. I could do without my makeup on the dressing table as well.

Walking towards Quinn and his mistress, I handed him the divorce papers and walked out of the room. I caught Veronica's expression and she was struggling to hide a snort.

I didn't care what she or anyone else thought about me anymore. I'd had enough for one day and three years.

As I walked down the stairs, I could hear the murmurs of the staff and I could see part of their faces peeping through the doors and I didn't fight it.

They could talk all they wanted, I didn't care anymore. 

I was sure that the murmurs were what drew Naomi's attention as she came running towards me.

"Where are you going ma'am? Are you going on a trip?" Worry masked her face as she asked.

I knew that she knew what was going on but just didn't want to admit it so I cast her a cold glance.

"It's over Naomi, this marriage is over," I announced shamelessly and the staff gasped at my unfiltered words.

"So what? Do you want to walk out on your marriage now? After all, you've endured?" Naomi countered but I wasn't in the mood to drag words with her.

"Was this even a marriage from the beginning? I don't even know what this is." I found myself laughing as I spoke.

"Goodbye Naomi and thank you for your service." I finished and continued out of the house, leaving the woman staring at me helplessly. 

Once I got out of the house, the driver made to open the car door for me but I stopped him with a wave of my hand.

"Don't worry, I'll take a cab." He nodded at my words and stepped aside without asking me any questions. 

I slipped into the cab and shut the door beside me. 

The further we moved away from the mansion, the more the weight of my new reality dawned on me.

I was no longer Mrs. Winfrey, but Anastasia. Just Anastasia.

Six

Three Years Later

Ana

"Mommy, can I take this with me to the new house?" Moon asked, raising his wooden doll as his eyes sparked in excitement. 

I couldn't possibly refuse him anything, he looked so cute asking for a favor, I'd feel like a heartless person to say no to him.

"Of course baby, you can bring all your toys if you want," I replied with a smile and gently smoothed his plum cheeks and he ran towards his toy house to gather all his toys.

"What time are they coming?" Grandma Mira asked from behind and I turned to meet her gaze.

"They'll be here by two pm. Don't worry about the time, we'll move everything today. The truck is ginormous." I assured Grandma Mira who was taking glances at her wristwatch. 

"I know. I just don't want us to get there late so that everything can be arranged today and we can hold the party tomorrow." She replied, stating her concern.

We were going back to New York, a place that held many memories for both Grandma Mira and me.

I'd left New York after my divorce to Los Angeles and it was time to go back to New York. Specifically, because I intend to set up my business in the heart of the city.

Grandma Mira asked to set up a welcome party slash housewarming party since we renovated our old house into a mansion. It was a perfect way to let our old friends and acquaintances know that we were back and also come to celebrate with us.

"We'll get there on time and everything will be done as planned. Terry sent a text to let me know that he has gotten all we need for the party tomorrow so we don't need to run around when we get home." I assured and she finally let out a smile.

After I was sure that she wasn't worried any longer, I proceeded into the house to check if there was anything we'd failed to pack.

By exactly two pm, the truck drove into the compound and we began filling it with our belongings and soon enough, we were on our way to New York. 

The busy streets reminded me of my struggling years before Quinn approached me and asked me to marry him. 

I swallowed hard, pushing the thoughts away from my mind.

It was a new chapter for me now, Quinn was a past chapter, he's just a bad memory in my past.

I glanced at Moon who rested his head on my stomach and held onto my index finger with caution. 

He was unusually calm and I knew that it was because of the long journey, he'd not driven this long before. I let out a slight smile before wrapping my arm around his body.

In no time we got to the mansion and I couldn't help but smile at the good work I'd done with the house that was previously looking wretched.

A deep sigh escaped my mouth as I stepped out of the vehicle.

'It feels good to be successful after all.' I smiled to myself, looking at what I'd achieved in the space of three years.

The men got to work and the place began to come together. 

Grandma Mira went ahead to review the things she needed for her party the next day and confirmed that everything was available while I discussed business with Terry. 

"I told them that you'd be able to see them tomorrow at the party so they agreed to come for the party," Terry informed me while we strolled to the backyard. 

"Thank you so much, Terry, I don't know what I'd have done without you," I remarked with sincerity. 

"It's nothing, Ana, your happiness is my happiness. Whatever it'll take to make you happy, I'll do it." He assured me and I couldn't help but smile at his words.

"You've done enough already Terry, let me take it up from here." I appreciated his help but I couldn't let him do everything for me.

I'd learned how to cook exquisite dishes from Terry and I also opened a restaurant and I'd been getting clients rush, most thanks to Terry for his impute and good words to his friends and colleagues. 

Terry was a food judge on one of the most popular food channels so he had lots of people who'd try out whatever he recommended. 

However, we concluded that New York would be a perfect place to set up my restaurant as he had more grounds and influence there.

"What do you say to Chipotle for dinner?" I asked with a smile and he nodded in acknowledgment.

 "I would never say no to Chipotle."

"Great!"

We walked into the house to help out.

After we had a hearty meal, we sat in the living room and decided to watch some news and relax.

This was a new city, we needed to know what was going on.

I turned on the smart television and tuned in to the biggest news channel and the familiar image of Quinn appeared boldly on the large screen.

I could feel both Grandma Mira and Terry's eyes on me, I was grateful that Moon was asleep already.

I quickly changed the channel but the image of the handsome multi-millionaire barely left my mind. The headline was talking about his net worth or something like that.

It was none of my business and would never be.

After three years of not seeing even a picture, the first day I step foot into New York, the first thing I see is Quinn on my big screen.

'Just great!'

Flashbacks of his cold treatment towards me flooded my memory and I felt the hatred I had for him resurface.

Even after three years, his words still echoed clearly in my ears. 

I got up from the cushion and made my way to my room but Grandma Mira's voice called behind.

"Ana? Are you okay?" 

Had I reacted openly to seeing Quinn's picture?

"I'm good, just tired. Goodnight." I replied still walking away and I could hear Terry leave as well. 

I slumped onto my soft bed and lay there motionless while my mind processed the various possibilities of coming across Quinn in New York City.

I had to control myself at the sight of him, I needed to keep my feelings intact for the sake of my son- Moon.