The morning sun filtered gently through the curtains of Ana's room, but there was no warmth in its glow, not today. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks swollen from a night of weeping.
She hadn't slept a wink. Her heart had shattered into too many jagged pieces, and the memory of Sasha in Harry's arms played on repeat in her mind like a cruel punishment.
There was a soft knock at her door. She didn't respond. Another knock, firmer this time.
"Ana," Harry's voice came, low and desperate. "Please… talk to me. Just give me a minute. Please."
Silence.
She stared at the door, her fists clenched at her sides. She felt raw inside. Angry. Ashamed. Heartbroken.
Then she stood, her steps heavy as she walked to the door. Slowly, she opened it.
Harry stood there, still in the same clothes from the night before, his eyes sunken and shadowed with sleeplessness and guilt. His voice caught when he saw her.
"Ana…"
But she held up her hand, silencing him.
"I don't want to hear another excuse," she said, her voice trembling. "Not yet."
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but the look in her eyes stopped him cold. Pain. So much pain.
Ana's chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to compose herself. Her voice cracked as she began, "I was a fool, Harry. I knew from the start… I knew that you were never mine. You belonged to someone else. I told myself I wouldn't fall. I told myself I'd just do what I came here to do and walk away when it was over."
Tears welled up in her eyes again.
"But I fell anyway. So hard, so deeply, that I forgot reality. I let myself dream. I let myself believe that maybe...just maybe you looked at me differently. That maybe you wanted more with me. That maybe… I meant something to you."
"You do," Harry interrupted desperately. "You mean everything to me, Ana."
She looked away, her lip trembling. "Then why, Harry? Why was she in your shower? Why were you holding her like that?"
"I thought it was you," he confessed, stepping closer. "I swear on everything—I thought it was you. My eyes were closed. I felt her arms and… I didn't know. The moment I saw it wasn't you, I pushed her away."
"But she was there," Ana said bitterly. "Naked. In your shower. And you let her get that far. That's what hurts the most."
"I didn't let her!" he snapped, then took a breath, softening his tone. "She came in uninvited. She caught me off guard. I threw her out the moment I realized what she was doing."
Ana clenched her fists at her sides, tears finally breaking free. "This whole thing… this us… it's all a lie, isn't it? I'm just a means to an end. Just someone to give you a child. I'm not your partner. I'm not your wife. I'm just… just…"
Harry stepped forward and pulled her into his arms before she could finish.
"You're not just anything," he whispered fiercely, holding her tight. "You're the woman I love. The only one. I never wanted Sasha. I don't care about her, Ana. I only care about you."
She struggled for a moment, then gave in, collapsing against him as sobs racked her body.
"I don't want to lose you," she cried, "even though I know you were never mine to begin with."
Harry pressed a kiss into her hair. "You're mine. And I'm yours. I don't care how complicated this is. I will find a way to make things right. I'll tear the whole world down if I have to. Just… don't leave me."
Ana pulled back slightly, looking up at him with wet, aching eyes.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
"So am I," he admitted, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "But I'd rather face a storm with you by my side than live in peace without you."
She searched his face, needing to believe him. Needing something, anything to hold onto.
"Then prove it," she whispered. "Prove that I'm more than a womb for your child. Prove that you truly want me in your life, not just your bed."
Harry nodded solemnly, cupping her face in his hands. "I will. I swear I will."
And there, in the middle of pain and doubt, wrapped in each other's arms, they stood, two souls bound by love, guilt, and the weight of impossible choices.
The heavy, echoing click of stilettos sounded down the polished hallway of the mansion, sharp and purposeful. Sasha Famazani was a vision of elegance and danger. Dressed in a cream silk blouse tucked into a high-waisted black pencil skirt that hugged her figure like a glove, her hair cascaded down her back in loose, sultry waves. Her red lips curled into a smug smile. She looked like she had won a war.
Yesterday's triumph still tasted sweet on her tongue.
Today, she would deliver the finishing blow.
She stopped before Ana's door, lips twitching as she rehearsed her lines in her mind. The image of Reina's face crushed, shattered, humiliated was one she'd savored all night. Her hand rose, ready to knock, but she froze.
The door was slightly ajar.
Curiosity and malice mingled in her eyes as she slowly pushed it open, expecting to see a pitiful Ana wallowing in heartbreak.
But instead, her breath caught.
There, in the middle of the room, stood Harry and Ana locked in an intimate embrace.
Sasha stood paralyzed at the threshold, gripping the doorknob so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her heart slammed against her ribs, not in excitement, but agony. Tears blurred her vision, stinging her eyes as they spilled uninvited down her cheeks.
"No…" she whispered under her breath, voice trembling with pain. "He's supposed to be mine."
The way Harry held Ana, the gentleness in his hands, the protectiveness in his eyes… it was real. Undeniably, painfully real. That wasn't just comfort. That was love.
A dagger twisted in her chest.
She had spent years building her image, climbing social ladders, twisting herself into the woman Harry would want. She had played the patient wife, the poised heiress, the loyal companion, even when it was all a lie.
And yet, he was here… giving his heart to her. To the girl who had no legacy. No pedigree. No ring on her finger.
If looks could kill, Ana would've turned to ashes in that moment. Sasha's body trembled, her nails digging crescent moons into her palm as the sting of betrayal and envy surged through her veins like venom.
She backed away slowly, her breath ragged, heart in ruins. Turning on her heels, she stormed down the hallway, her heels slicing the silence like blades.
Her driver rushed to catch up with her at the front door. "Madam...where shall I..."
"Give me the damn keys," she snapped, yanking them from his hand.
"But madam..."
"I SAID GIVE THEM!" she barked, eyes flashing with fury.
Without waiting for another word, Sasha slid into the driver's seat of the sleek black convertible and started the engine. The tires screeched violently as she reversed, her eyes dark and lips trembling.
She didn't care where she was going. She just had to get out. Away from that house. Away from them.
As she sped past the gates, her destination formed in her mind like smoke curling in the air.
The villa.
The old one hidden on the outskirts of the city. The place no one dared to go anymore. The place where secrets were kept… and sins were buried.
Tears blurred her view again, but she didn't slow down. Her heart was a battlefield. Her soul, a storm.
She clenched the wheel tighter, her expression hardening with every mile.
If Harry thought he could humiliate her and get away with it…
If Ana thought she had won…
Then they had no idea who Sasha Famazani truly was.
They would soon learn...
Hell hath no fury… like a woman scorned.