However, it was not my husband who walked in first.
I heard the sharp, rhythmic clicking of slender silver heels striking the floorboards as if the woman wearing them owned every inch of the building.
I recognized those distinct heels immediately because they belonged to Cynthia, my brand-new mother-in-law, the very woman who had hugged me tightly just hours ago while declaring that I was already like a precious daughter to her.
“I am already in the room, so you can stop worrying,” she said loudly, her voice sounding cold and detached as she walked toward the vanity.
Then I heard Elias toss his heavy cell phone onto the soft bed and activate the speakerphone.
“Did everyone leave the reception area already?” asked a sharp female voice through the phone speaker.
It was Brenda, my husband’s supposed best friend from his college days.
She was the same woman who had strutted into our wedding wearing a crimson dress that was far too revealing and sporting a smirk that felt entirely too confident for a simple friend.
“Elias is currently downstairs handling the final payment for the catering services,” Cynthia replied while checking her hair in the vanity mirror.
“And honestly, I have no idea where the little girl is hiding right now, probably busy touching up her cheap, tacky makeup in the bathroom,” she added with a sneer.
I felt like my blood had turned to ice as I laid there, staring at the dust bunnies under the bed frame.
The little girl, she called me.
The woman who used drugstore makeup, she whispered with such biting contempt.
Hours earlier, that same cruel woman had held both my hands firmly in front of my father and claimed that God had truly blessed her family with such a humble, sweet, and simple daughter-in-law.
“So, is everything finally settled then?” Brenda asked impatiently from the other side of the phone line.
“It is absolutely settled,” Cynthia replied with a sense of triumph.
“The diamond ring is firmly on her finger and the legal documents are already signed, so we have her exactly where we want her.”
I felt the oxygen leaving the room as my lungs struggled to take in even a tiny breath.
“What about the penthouse in the downtown district?” Brenda insisted, sounding anxious about the money.
“Are you certain he can keep the property if you eventually decide to get a divorce?”
Cynthia let out a dry, chilling laugh that made me want to crawl out and scream.
“Oh my dear, that is precisely why we are moving so carefully and covering our tracks.”
“Elias appears to be the one who officially paid for the down payment, even though the girl put up the money, we funneled it through his bank account instead.”
“In a year, we will make her look mentally unstable, totally useless, and pathologically jealous.”
“We will nag and provoke her until she is forced to leave on her own, then we will fight for the penthouse, and the rest will be ours.”
The penthouse.
Our beautiful new home in the heart of the city.
The one I had purchased using an inheritance from my late grandmother, or at least that is what I had told Elias during our courtship.
In reality, the money came from my family’s private trust, but nobody in his family knew the true extent of my background.
My mother had made me promise before she passed away that I would never marry a man who loved my family’s wealth more than he loved my actual soul.
That was exactly why I hid who I really was from everyone.
I moved out of our family estate, drove an older sedan, worked as a low-level administrative assistant, and pretended to be an ordinary woman who was constantly struggling with debt.
I wanted them to love me for me, without knowing that my father, Jonathan Wilson, owned one of the largest shipping and logistics empires in the country.
And for a long time, Elias had passed the test with flying colors.
