The food had gone cold two hours ago.The candlelight still flickered weakly across the dining table, throwing long shadows against the marble walls of the penthouse, but the warmth that once lived inside the apartment had disappeared long before the meal lost its heat.Fred Morgan sat alone at the head of the table, unmoving.A bowl of untouched seafood pasta rested in front of him beside a glass of wine he had poured for Daniella at exactly seven-thirty.It was now 10:47 PM.The city lights beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows painted Lagos in gold and silver beneath the rain, but Fred barely noticed the view anymore; his eyes remained fixed on the phone lying beside his plate.Five missed calls, twelve unread messages.All from the same sender, Elias, his assistant.Another message appeared.Urgent. The Zurich board refuses to proceed without your approval.Fred locked the screen without replying. A moment later, another notification vibrated against the table.The presidential offi

Daniella changed dresses four times.Fred noticed every single one. The first dress had been a silver gown, the second was red, and the third never even made it past the bedroom mirror before she rejected it with visible frustration.Now she stood in front of the full-length mirror wearing black silk that hugged her body perfectly, adjusting her earrings for the fifth time while tension quietly filled the bedroom.Fred sat near the window reading through documents on his tablet, though he had not processed a single word in over twenty minutes. His attention remained fixed on her.Not because she looked beautiful. Daniella had always been beautiful. It was the effort that unsettled him.The care, the nervousness, the anticipation in her eyes, she had not dressed up for him like this in years. “You’ve changed your mind three times already,” Fred said calmly.Daniella glanced at him through the mirror. “Does this one look too formal?”Fred lowered the tablet slowly. “You look amazing.”T

“I can explain,” Daniella said quickly, panic flooding her voice as she stepped away from Tony. “It’s not what you think. Tony accidentally spilled wine on me, and he was only trying to help clean it off.”Fred stood frozen near the doorway. His eyes moved from Tony’s hand still resting too close to Daniella’s waist, down to the dark wine stain spread across her dress. The silence that followed felt heavier than shouting.“Fred, please say something.”But he didn’t, his jaw tightened, and disappointment flashed across his face before he turned around and walked out without another word.“Fred!” Daniella rushed after him, her heels clicking loudly against the floor. “Wait, please!”Behind her, Tony leaned casually against the mirror. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, subtle enough to hide from anyone who wasn’t paying attention.His plan had worked better than expected. "Stop reacting its nothing."Fred stormed through the hallway, barely noticing the guests staring at hi

By the time Daniella realized Fred had left the banquet, he was already gone.The ballroom had started thinning out, the music softer now, conversations fading into drunken laughter and exhausted networking, yet her eyes kept scanning the crowd anxiously.Fred was nowhere.An uncomfortable feeling settled inside her chest.She spotted Chris near the bar finishing a glass of whiskey and immediately walked toward him. “Have you seen Fred?”Chris looked at her without expression, then he laughed softly, not kindly. “You should be responsible for your husband,” he said coldly, “not me.”The words hit harder than Daniella expected; her brows furrowed instantly. “Excuse me?”Chris set his glass down slowly. “You heard me.”“Why are you talking to me like that?”His jaw tightened. “Because I’m tired of watching him destroy himself trying to love you.”Daniella stiffened immediately. “That’s not fair.”Chris gave her a sharp look. “No. What’s not fair is watching a man spend years worshipping