Days Without Him
No more frantic calls to check his whereabouts, no more hysterical accusations. I became the quiet, obedient wife Nate Sterling had always wanted.
My fathers warning echoed in my mind, cold and sharp.
"Other heiresses have their families to fall back on after a divorce. You? An imposter? What will you have left?"
So, I behaved.
Even when I found a half-empty packet of morning-after pills in his coat pocket, I pretended I saw nothing.
After all, when you're fighting for survival, who has the energy for heartbreak?
But when Nate saw me playing dumb, his expression didn't soften with relief. It hardened into something I couldn't read.
1
As I took Nates blazer from him, a small box tumbled out and clattered onto the hardwood floor.
My gaze flickered to it for a single, searing second before I looked away.
It was a box of emergency contraception.
"You dropped something," I said, my voice carefully neutral as if I hadn't seen the words on the packaging. "I'll go start the laundry."
I tried to turn away, but his hand shot out, his fingers closing around my wrist like a steel trap.
I looked back. Nate was tall, his presence always commanding. He had a strong brow and a straight nose, framed by impossibly long lashes. From this angle, looking up at his sharp profile, he was pure intimidation. A knot of familiar anxiety tightened in my stomach.
"These pills belong to Jessica," he began, his voice low. "Shes been under a lot of pressure with the new project, and it's messed with her cycle. Her doctor prescribed them."
He let out a tired sigh, the usual sharpness in his eyes clouded with exhaustion. "We were out with clients last night. The dress she was wearing didn't have pockets, so she asked me to hold them for her. I just got so busy I forgot to give them back." He met my eyes, his grip on my wrist loosening slightly. "There's nothing going on between us. I swear."
It was the most hed explained himself to me in years. It had to be because of the divorce papers Id thrown at him a few weeks ago.
When I remained silent, he pulled out his phone. "If you don't believe me, I can ask her for the prescription records."
A faint smile touched my lips. "Don't be silly. It's such a small thing, there's no need to bother her."
Nate froze, his eyes searching my face. "Then just now, you were?"
I knew what he was asking. I offered the perfect explanation. "I was just wondering if I should run them over to her now. We wouldn't want to delay her treatment." I added a thoughtful pause. "But it's so late. It's probably better if you give them to her tomorrow. Ill go put the clothes in the wash."
Without waiting for a response, I slipped from his grasp and hurried away. That was close. I almost let the mask slip.
My fathers words were a constant mantra: In a world of wealth and power, feelings are a liability. Profit is everything. Instead of worrying if he loves you, you should be worrying about what happens to a fake heiress like you if he leaves you.
But as I turned my back, I didn't see the shadow that fell across Nate's face, his expression turning dark and unreadable.
2
I was deep asleep when the bed dipped beside me. Nate slid under the covers, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me tight against his chest. His warm breath ghosted over the back of my neck.
"Our fifth anniversary is coming up," he murmured. "I'll take you to see the Northern Lights. In Iceland. Like you've always wanted."
My body went rigid. Hed made the same promise for our last anniversary.
Hed canceled at the last minute for Jessica.
"We'll see," I mumbled into my pillow.
The arms around my waist tightened instantly, painfully. I let out a small hiss and instinctively tried to pull away.
"Why?" His voice was a low growl, pinning me in place. "You always wanted to see the auroras with me. You said kissing the person you love under the Northern Lights was the most romantic thing in the world."
My eyes were closed, my voice barely a whisper. "You're the one who said we shouldn't waste time on pointless things like that." I faked a yawn. "Besides, the anniversary is still a few days away. Let's talk about it later. I'm so tired, Nate. I need to sleep."
I let my breathing even out, pretending to drift off.
The truth was, I'd already seen the Northern Lights.
I booked the ticket the night I found out I was a fraud. A trip like that costs a small fortune, upwards of thirty thousand dollars. I figured Id better enjoy the Sterling money while I still could.
As for the heartbreak? That could wait.
3
When I woke up the next morning, Nate was already gone.
I checked my phone. A message from him was waiting.
Meds are on the counter. Don't forget to take them.
I have a congenital heart condition.
Back when I was still the prized Sterling heiress, no one wanted to marry me. The disease was a death sentence; I could drop dead at any moment. Marriages in our circle were business transactions, and what good was a merger if one of the assets was fatally flawed? A widower was damaged goods on the marriage market.
But Nate had wanted me.
And even though I was an heiress, my family wasn't exactly a united front. My father, for all his social standing, had an entire soccer team's worth of illegitimate children scattered around. When my family realized my only valuea strategic marriagewas compromised by my health, they couldn't even be bothered to pay for my treatment. The rich aren't generous by nature. They are lavish with those who benefit them and ruthlessly selfish with those who don't.
But Nate didnt care about my condition. He fought his parents, ignored the gossip, and married me in the most extravagant wedding the city had ever seen. The first thing he did after we were married was find me the best cardiac specialist in the country. Two years ago, I finally had a transplant. I was slowly, carefully, recovering.
Everything was supposed to be perfect.
But somewhere in the last five years, everything had changed.
Nate started coming home later and later. His shirts smelled of a perfume that wasn't mine. His phone was suddenly off-limits.
I told myself to endure it. My father was a misogynist who believed women had no place in business, so Id never learned how to manage a company. I couldn't help Nate with his work. All I could do was be a supportive wife.
Don't worry about it, Id tell myself. It's just work.
Then, his childhood friend, Jessica, returned from overseas.
And started working at his company.
Nate admired her. He praised her sharp business acumen, her cool, strategic mind. He was a man of few compliments, but he would praise her openly, repeatedly, in front of everyone.
Slowly, the whispers started.
Jessica Hayes and Nate Sterling. Theyre the real power couple.
Rumor had it they were supposed to have an arranged marriage years ago, but it was suddenly called off. She went abroad to chase her dreams; he stayed to build his empire.
My friends warned me to be careful.
I told them they were just friends, colleagues. It was impossible to avoid each other at work.
Then Nates actions made a fool of me.
This was a man so ruthless with his time that when I was burning up with a fever from COVID, he told me to "hang in there" until he closed a deal before taking me to the hospital.
Yet when Jessica let out a single sneeze in a meeting, he walked away from a ten-million-dollar contract to personally drive her to the clinic.
It kept happening.
During the day, his time belonged to his work; he told me not to distract him with too many texts or calls.
After work, his time belonged to Jessica; he told me he needed his personal space, that I couldn't control his friendships.
Every time he chose her over me, I wanted to scream, to talk it out, to make him understand. But there was no talking. He never gave me the chance.
One night, I refused to let him leave. I stood my ground and told him how much his relationship with Jessica hurt me, how many lines they had crossed. I thought maybe, finally, we could fix this.
His response was a cold splash of water on my hope. "We're just friends," he said, his tone flat. "If something was going to happen between us, it would have happened long ago. It wouldn't have waited for you."
That shut me up. He was right. In every conceivable way, Jessica was better than me.
I fell silent and let him walk out the door to go to her.
Then came the party. A gathering with the other corporate wives. One of them, with a malicious glint in her eye, showed me a photo on her phone.
Under the soft glow of a streetlight, Nate was holding a drunk Jessica in his arms. In his other hand, he carried her high heels.
4
Nate hated drinking.
He hated the way alcohol made people lose control, and he despised drunk people.
For his last birthday, everyone wanted to toast him. He couldn't refuse them all, so as his wife, I drank for him. Glass after glass.
But my tolerance is terrible.
The mix of red wine and whiskey sent me reeling. I spent half the night hugging the toilet, so drunk I couldnt even lift a finger. I remember weakly asking him to help me to the shower.
Nate had just frowned, looking down at me with disdain. "You wreak of alcohol," he'd said. "It's disgusting. I'll have the maid help you."
But the man in the photo showed no disgust.
His eyes were soft, his movements gentle, as if he were holding the most precious treasure in the world.
The Sterlings and the Hayes were both powerful families. The photo went viral in our circles. Overnight, Nate and Jessica became the star-crossed lovers reunited, and I became the city's biggest joke.
It was noon the next day when Nate finally came home.
"Where were you last night?" I heard myself ask, my voice numb.
He didn't seem to notice the iciness in my tone as he shrugged off his jacket. "Working late."
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. "Working late? At Jessica's place?"
He stopped, his brow furrowing. "What are you on about now?"
I held up my phone, the photo burning on the screen. My eyes were red-rimmed with unshed tears. "You're the one who's lost his mind! You hate the smell of alcohol, remember? But you looked pretty happy holding her!" My voice cracked. "You don't hate the smell of alcohol. You just hate it on me."
"If you don't love me, Nate, why did you ever marry me?!"
My rage boiled over. I grabbed the nearest thinga ceramic mug on the tableand hurled it against the wall.
It was the mug wed made together on our honeymoon. Nate, who always preferred minimalist, monochrome designs, had treasured that garish, colorful thing. He'd used it every day, ignoring the smirks from his staff who whispered he was being childish.
5
The sound of shattering porcelain echoed in the silent room. I barely registered it.
"It's only been a few years, Nate! Couldn't you wait a little longer? If you're tired of me, just divorce me! Whats the point of all these lies?!"
He ignored me, his attention fixed on his phone, thumbs flying across the screen as he replied to a message.
Only when he was done did he look up, his expression chillingly calm. "So? Is this what your interrogation is about? You're making a scene over something this small?"
"Small?" The word was a strangled gasp.
"What else would you call it?" His voice grew sharper, his eyes filled with a weary annoyance. "Bonnie, every single one of our fights comes from your insecurity and your lack of trust in me. If that's the case, what is there left for me to explain?"
My hands clenched into fists. The anger Id been swallowing for months erupted. I twisted the diamond ring off my finger and threw it at him.
"Then get out! Let's get a divorce!"
The ring hit the floor and rolled under the sofa. Nates eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Then, without another word, he turned and slammed the door behind him.
I collapsed onto the sofa and cried for a long time. When the tears finally stopped, I started to pack a suitcase. As I moved the sofa cushions, my hand brushed against a piece of paper.
It was a sketch. A drawing of me, smiling brightly. Around the neck of my portrait was a necklace I had never seen before.
A sudden thought struck me. I pulled up the security camera feed on my tablet.
3:00 AM. Nate had come back.
My heart skipped a beat. He came back? And I never even knew?
On the screen, I watched him walk into the living room and see me asleep on the sofa. He moved quietly, fetching a blanket and draping it gently over me. I expected him to go upstairs and showerhe was a neat freak, always needing to wash away the outside world the moment he got home.
Instead, he pulled a chair over and sat beside me.
He took a sketchpad and pencil from his briefcase and began to draw.
He drew for two hours.
Just as he finished, the me-on-the-screen shifted in my sleep. Nate jumped, thinking I was waking up, and quickly hid the drawing under the cushion. When he saw I was still asleep, he visibly relaxed, then finally went upstairs to shower. But he didn't go to our bedroom. He left the house again, heading back to work.
So he had come back. He had been here. I just didn't know.
I stared at the drawing in my hand, a wave of guilt and confusion washing over me.
Since our marriage, Nate's father had dumped the entire Sterling empire on his shoulders. He was constantly overwhelmed, running on four or five hours of sleep a night.
And yet, he had used two of those precious hours for me.
To design something Id once mentioned in passing. I remembered saying it jokingly when we got married: "Its a shame you gave up design. I was hoping you'd make me a necklace one day."
6
My fingers tightened around the sketch. After a long moment of hesitation, I found his number in my blocked list and unblocked it.
I'm sorry. I was wrong. Nate, can we please talk? I don't want to fight like this anymore.
But he didn't reply.
I told myself he was just busy at work and put my phone away. I carefully gathered the broken pieces of the mug and began painstakingly gluing them back together. Then I went to the kitchen and cooked all his favorite dishes.
Midnight came and went. Nate didn't come home. He didn't reply to my text.
Fearing a repeat of the night before, where hed come and gone while I slept, I made myself a cup of black coffee and sat on the sofa, forcing myself to stay awake.
But the sun rose on an empty house. Nate never came back.
Exhausted, I finally gave up and went to bed.
When I woke up, it was already afternoon. I immediately checked the security footage, my heart pounding with anticipation. I watched for three hours. The footage showed nothing. From the moment hed slammed the door yesterday to now, he had not returned.
A deep, numbing cold spread through my chest.
I decided to go to his office. The receptionist stopped me at the front desk.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Sterling, but I can't let you up without an appointment."
I stared at her, bewildered. "You know who I am. Why do I need an appointment?"
She looked genuinely apologetic. "I'm sorry, ma'am. It's Mr. Sterling's policy. Everyone needs an appointment. That includes you."
She was just doing her job; I couldn't blame her.
As I turned to leave, I overheard two employees whispering nearby.
"So that's his wife? She's got nothing on Ms. Hayes."
"I know, right? Shes his wife, but she needs an appointment to see him!"
"Seriously. Meanwhile, Ms. Hayes can walk into his office without even knocking."
My feet froze to the floor. The dull ache in my chest sharpened into a piercing pain that made it hard to breathe. It was all so ridiculously humiliating. I had walked right into it. It wasn't my imagination. It wasn't a misunderstanding. Nates feelings for Jessica were real. So obvious that even his employees could see it.
"Excuse me," I said, my voice steady.
The two women stiffened, turning around slowly. "Mrs. Sterling? Can we help you?" Their smiles were plastered on.
I didn't comment on their gossip. I glanced at their name tagsone read "Megan," the other "Laura."
"Actually, yes," I said softly. "I was hoping you could do me a favor. Could you give your boss a message for me?"
"What is it?" Laura asked, her curiosity piqued.
I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice from trembling, to keep the tears from falling.
"Just tell him I want a divorce. And that he needs to come home tonight to sign the papers."
7
The lobby fell into a sudden, dead silence. The two employees stared at me, their jaws slack with shock.
Without waiting for their reaction, I turned and walked away.
After calling my lawyer to draft the divorce agreement, I went home and started packing. There was too much to take, so I only packed a few essential clothes and personal items.
Nate came home at four o'clock.
I handed him the papers. "Sign it."
He paused for only a second before picking up a pen and scrawling his signature on the line.
"Fine," was all he said. Not a single word more.
Compared to my agonizing struggle, he was as cold and detached as a stranger.
With the papers signed, we went to the courthouse. But there was a mandatory 30-day "cooling-off" period before the divorce was final. If either of us changed our minds in that time, the process would be voided.
To prevent myself from having a moment of weakness and running back to him, I moved out of our home and went back to my parents' house.
My mother thought it was just another fight and offered a few placating words. When she realized I was serious, she tried to talk me out of it. "The Sterlings are at the top of their game right now, Bonnie. Are you really going to let another woman walk in and take everything you have?"
I didn't listen. My mind was made up. There was no going back for me and Nate.
Because I hated him.
I hated his arrogance, his coldness, his deception.
But my hatred didn't last long. A few days later, a bombshell dropped that sent my world into a black hole.
I was not my parents' biological daughter.
8
The year I was born, a massive earthquake had struck the region. In the chaos, my birth parents were killed. The real Sterling daughter also died in the disaster.
And I, an orphan, was mistakenly identified as their child and rescued.
My world shattered.
But the most devastating blow was the swift, absolute cruelty of my adoptive parents. They showed no mercy. They cut off all my credit cards, threw me out of the house with nothing but the clothes on my back, and publicly announced that I was not a true Sterling.
Penniless, I wandered the streets that night. I was looking for a cheap motel when a group of drunk men cornered me in a dark alley. Their leering eyes and slurred taunts closed in on me. I screamed and fought, adrenaline coursing through me, and managed to break free and run.
Shaking and terrified, my first instinct was to call Nate. The call connected, but it wasn't his voice that answered. It was a woman's, light and cheerful.
"Nate's asleep right now. May I ask who's calling?"
First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "301282" to read the entire book.
MotoNovel
Novellia
Bookworm« Previous Post
Crabapple Blooms Beneath the Bright Moon
Next Post »
The Neurosurgeon's Fate