And in that moment, Victor realized what the world saw: A billionaire. Alone. Surrounded by questions.
Holding nothing but the wrong woman’s purse.
The terminal announcement echoed cruelly: “Flight 274 now boarding.”
Nadia locked the door, slid down the cold tiled wall. Her heartbeat roared louder than the noise outside. Her reflection stared back from a cracked mirror.
Smudged mascara. Flushed cheeks.
But the fear wasn’t from the crowd. It was from realization.
Who am I to him?
She gasped, remembering everything—his penthouse, his whispers, his promises.
“You understand me. She doesn’t.”
“You’re different.”
“You’re my future.”
Now, she sat alone, gripping herself tightly. Somewhere out there, his wife held children—children Nadia never knew existed.
Her phone buzzed: messages from reporters, friends, strangers.
Her name. Her face. Trending.
