Fading Devotion, Distant Farewell

Just as we arrived at City Hall, Dominic leaned in and whispered in my ear.

Actually, I have a child.

He looked at me, his expression earnest.

This certificate... I can't give it to you. But I can give you everything else.

I stared down at the marriage license application in my hand, my mind blank. It took a long moment before I could force out the words. "Why... why didn't you tell me before?"

Dominic shrugged, a smile playing on his lips that wasn't quite an apology. "I thought you cared more about me than a piece of paper."

"What if I insist on the certificate?" My lips trembled as I asked.

He couldn't know. Without that piece of paper, he wasn't just facing a broken engagement.

He was facing one body, two lives.

...

Dominic didn't answer right away. He just watched me, his gaze calm, as if my question was utterly redundant. After a long silence, he sighed and gently wiped a tear from the corner of my eye.

"Her family saved my parents' lives," he said softly. "They're old family friends. I love you, Anya, but she has to be my wife."

Rage, bitterness, and despair churned in my chest, a toxic bile rising in my throat.

He guided my stunned form into his Maybach, continuing his explanation. "The child... it only happened because they drugged me. My family's condition for letting you in was that I had to keep the child."

He paused, turning his head to look at me. "Anya, I have no feelings for her."

"You love me, not some piece of paper..."

But it wasn't just a piece of paper.

It was my life.

It was my right to stand by his side, the only thing that guaranteed the child in my belly could be born.

The system's cold, mechanical voice suddenly exploded in my mind, repeating over and over:

MISSION FAILURE: TARGET ACQUISITION FAILED. TERMINATION IMMINENT.

YOU HAVE 48 HOURS REMAINING.

I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing down the storm of emotions. I clutched his sleeve, my voice a desperate plea.

"I don't care about the other child. I just want the certificate."

Dominic's face hardened, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. "You want me to risk my inheritance, to go home and start a massive fight to divorce her, all to give you a piece of paper?"

"Anya, when did you become so selfish?"

With that, he yanked his sleeve from my grasp. The sudden movement felt like a physical blow to my heart.

I stared at the reflection of the man in the car's mirror. He was still the picture of aristocratic grace, his features as handsome as ever. But the tender affection in his eyes had been replaced by a sharp edge of impatience.

Tears came faster than thought, splashing onto my open palm.

Dominic, seeing my tears, softened. He took out a handkerchief and gently dabbed my cheeks. "I promise you, I'll be yours. The title of Mrs. Croft will be yours in all but name. Even my assets will go to you and our future children. Stop crying... please?"

He spoke words he thought were the epitome of devotion, but they only silenced me further. He thought my obsession with the certificate was about the status and the inheritance it brought.

"I'm giving you a choice," he said, his index finger toying with a strand of my hair. He looked at me with absolute certainty. "Either we proceed with the ceremony as planned, or..."

It was the same look he'd given me five years ago when he knelt before me with an armful of tulips, promising me a home. The same certainty that I would never, ever refuse him.

Our eyes met. I said nothing.

My hand rested on the slight curve of my stomach. I stroked it for a long moment, then nodded.

Dominic, I'm giving you a choice, too. Either you be a father to my child, or you can prepare to bury us both.

As if to punish me, Dominic dropped me off at my apartment and left immediately.

I got into a taxi and followed him to Tulip Hills. The villa, which I had suggested multiple times as our marital home, only to be refused, now held the silhouette of another woman.

The moment Dominic's car stopped, she threw herself into his arms. He expertly scooped her up, carrying her through a sea of flowers glowing in the sunset, before pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips.

I watched, frozen, from the window of the taxi, tears blurring my vision.

The driver, seeing my distress, silently passed me a tissue. "Miss, it's not a good life, being the other woman..."

My lips trembled. I wanted to scream that I wasn't the other woman. I was the one he loved. But the words that came out were a choked whisper. "Who said they were... husband and wife?"

The driver chuckled softly. "In my line of work, you learn to read people. The way that man looks at her, it's like he's devouring her with his eyes. Who wouldn't believe they're married?"

I slowly covered my mouth, tears seeping through my fingers.

He was right.

Only a fool like me would have believed Dominic's lies about not loving her.

It all made sense now. The few days every month he would disappear. The unanswered calls, his secretary's feigned ignorance. The way he'd lounge on the sofa, telling me I was being too picky about the wedding details while I was drowning in arrangements for the venue, the photos, the invitations.

It made sense why the jewelers looked at me with such pity when he brought me in to design our rings. Why his friends always called me the "little wifey"I thought it was because I was young, but it was because he already had the real one.

It made sense why his parents always looked down their noses at me. Who wouldn't despise the homewrecker who was ruining their son's marriage?

I pulled my gaze away and wiped my face. "Let's go, sir."

As the engine rumbled to life, a message from Dominic popped up on my phone.

Meeting with a client. Don't wait up for me. Sleep well.

As he typed that message, he was holding her, his eyes soft with a love I now knew was a lie.

For the first time, I didn't reply. I just turned off the screen.

The system, I remembered, had given me two targets at the start. If he had just been honest with me, I wouldn't have clung to him like this.

Five years. One thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five days. He'd had countless chances to tell me the truth.

But he hadn't. He had just wrapped me in a cocoon of false tenderness.

I stumbled out of the taxi, feeling hollowed out. As I looked up, I saw Dominic standing at the door to my apartment, already changed into casual clothes.

Seeing the look on my face, he rushed over, taking my coat with one hand and wrapping the other around my waist.

I couldn't stop the image of her, smiling in his embrace, from flashing in my mind. A wave of nausea rolled through me.

As he leaned in to kiss me, I shoved him away.

I ran to the bathroom and threw up until nothing but bile was left.

Dominic pounded on the door, his voice frantic. "Anya! Anya, what's wrong? Are you sick?"

"Open the door! I'll take you to the hospital!"

Involuntary tears mixed with the saliva at the corner of my mouth. I remembered a camping trip, back when we first met. I had a fever of 104. He had been just as frantic then, carrying me barefoot from the mountaintop all the way down to the base. It wasn't until I was on an IV drip that I saw his feet were covered in blood.

I'd told him to get them treated, my eyes red with worry. He had refused, insisting on waiting until I fell asleep.

The entire city's elite envied me for finding such a devoted man. He'd buy out entire auctions for me. Luxury cars and jewelry were delivered like groceries. He had broadcast his proposal on every public screen in the city. He even had my initials tattooed over his heart.

The irony was crushing.

He was already someone else's husband, someone else's father.

When I finally opened the door, my composure was back in place.

Dominic pulled me into a tight embrace, his voice trembling. "Why didn't you answer me? You scared me to death..."

I pushed away and held out the pregnancy test in my palm. I asked him one last time, my voice deceptively calm.

"This child. Are you willing to give him a name?"

Dominic stared, then his brow furrowed. He didn't take the test. There was no surprise, no shock, no joy. Just a complex, scrutinizing look.

"Anya. To get a certificate, you'd go this far? You'd fake a pregnancy to trick me?"

He grew more agitated as he spoke, not giving me a chance to defend myself. "My mother was right. People from your background... your worldview is just too small."

Without another glance, he swatted my hand away. The pregnancy test clattered to the floor.

Like my shattered heart.

I instinctively bent to pick it up, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill over. I sniffled, bit my lip, and looked at the man standing under the lamp.

"You never trusted me," I said, my voice shaking. "In your eyes, I've always been nothing more than a gold-digger."

"That's why you feel no guilt, even after deceiving me for five years with a wife and child."

"That piece of paper you dismiss so easily? To me, it represents two lives. Two futures. What's wrong with fighting for the child I'm carrying, for the five years of love I gave you?"

"Dominic, you shouldn't have done this to me."

I didn't want to cry. But I couldn't stop. The tears streamed down my face and into my mouth, a taste more bitter than the death I'd faced from terminal illness in my original world.

I clutched the test stick and stared at him. The warm light was the same. He was the same man. But the tenderness was gone from his face, replaced by an expression of utter disbelief. Even his voice was laced with accusation.

"Anya, what are you talking about? What lives? What futures?"

"I understand you're angry, but I gave you a choice. You agreed to proceed as planned. Why are you throwing this insane tantrum now?"

"First a fake pregnancy test... what's next? A forged doctor's report?"

As he spoke, he scanned the room, and his eyes landed on a document on my vanity. He shoved past me and snatched it up. Without even looking at it, he ripped it to shreds.

As the paper fragments snowed down around us, his voice was tight with suppressed fury. "Take the next two days. And calm the hell down."

His footsteps faded, followed by the slam of the door. I was left frozen in place, still clutching the test stick.

Outside, the city lights twinkled. Inside, the proof of my child's existence lay in pieces on the floor. I knelt, slowly gathering the scraps, trying to piece them back together.

But they were too small, too torn. Impossible to restore.

Just like us. No matter how much Dominic pretended, he couldn't change the fact that he was a liar and a cheat.

And just like my child and me. No matter how hard I fought, I couldn't change the fact that his father didn't want him, and that we were both about to die.

The apartment was silent, except for the incessant pinging of my phone.

Several messages from Dominic.

I'm sorry, Anya. I was angry just now. I shouldn't have lost my temper.

But I don't want to hear any more of that crazy talk. Just wait, and be my beautiful bride.

The dress and rings are ready. The invitations have been sent. I've invited hundreds of media outlets. The day after tomorrow, I will make you the happiest woman in the city.

Almost simultaneously, a dozen texts came in from an unknown number.

Anya, you're so pathetic.

The man you're so proud of? I've slept with him. The wedding dress you're so excited about? I've already worn it. The ring? I've tried it on. Do you even know what the day after tomorrow is? It's my son's birthday.

You're having your little ceremony on my son's birthday. Dominic really put a lot of thought into this for you, didn't he?

I stared at the words for a full fifteen minutes. I thought I would be heartbroken, that I would cry.

But all I felt was a profound numbness.

Dominic, your thoughtfulness deserves a special gift in return.

MISSION FAILURE. 12 HOURS UNTIL TERMINATION.

I ignored the system's warning, swinging the hammer in my hand with all my might. The clay figurines we had made together shattered into dust. I took a pair of scissors to the giant wedding portrait, leaving it in tatters. I emptied the closets, donated the jewelry, and threw out the custom-made dolls he had given me.

This apartment, the one he used to call our "love nest," was now an empty, desolate ruin.

At 8 PM, right on schedule, Dominic called.

"Anya. Tomorrow is our big day. Are you happy?"

"I'm at my parents' house tonight. I'll go straight to the venue tomorrow and wait for you."

His voice was as calm and confident as ever. He knew my deep-seated craving for a family, a product of my loveless past. He was certain I wouldn't abandon him now. This was just a routine check-in call.

"I'm happy," I heard myself say, my voice flat and distant.

"Good. Get some sleep, rest up. I'll see you tomorrow."

He muffled the receiver, but I could still hear the tinkling laughter of his wife, Seraphina, in the background.

I hung up and closed my eyes, letting sleep take me. I paid no mind to the system's relentless countdown.

The next day was bright and sunny. The venue was filled with the city's elite.

I heard someone whisper, "Dominic is so generous. Throwing such a lavish party for a mere mistress..."

"It's not a wedding, you fool, it's a public declaration. He's solidifying his position as heir while keeping both women. Don't you get it?"

I acted as if I heard nothing, walking toward the man on the raised platform.

Standing beside him was a woman and a young boySeraphina and their son. His parents stood behind them. A perfect three-generation family.

And I, the bride, looked like the third wheel who had crashed their party.

The moment Dominic saw me, his expression changed. "Anya, why aren't you wearing the white gown?"