Look My Way

I was married to one of the world’s richest men—Zayne Ford— yet no one knew I existed. To the world, he was a charming billionaire. To me, he was the man who once promised love… then buried me in silence. For five years, I lived as his secret wife, convincing myself that love was enough. That it didn’t matter if no one knew my name, as long as he still looked at me the way he once did. But when his childhood sweetheart returned from abroad, I finally saw the truth. The only thing holding our marriage together was a legal document—cold, lifeless, and easily replaced. So I disguised my divorce papers as a school form and watched him sign them without even glancing up. That careless signature ended our marriage— and freed me. Now, as I start a new life in another country, I carry more than my independence. I carry his child. When Zayne discovers what he’s lost—his wife and his heir— he’ll do anything to find me. But the woman he once ignored no longer exists. He taught me how to break. Now he’ll learn what it means to lose me. Chapter 1 The ring on my finger felt heavier than ever as I pushed open the lawyer’s office door. It wasn’t just metal pressing against my skin—it was a reminder of a promise that had already died. The man behind the desk looked up briefly, his gaze sweeping over my plain blouse and worn heels before sliding away again. His suit was pressed to perfection, his shoes shining. He looked like someone who never had to beg to be seen. I probably looked like someone who always did. “I need to know if this divorce agreement is valid,” I said, my voice steadier than my hands. “If I get your stamp and my husband signs it… it’s official, right?” He blinked, mildly surprised—as if women like me didn’t get married, let alone need a lawyer to end it. He glanced through the papers and nodded. “Everything’s in order.” A shaky breath left my lips. Zayne Ford, please, just sign it quietly. Let this end the same way our marriage began—without love, without witnesses. When I arrived at the Ford residence, the guards barely glanced up from their post. They never did. To them, I was invisible—a rumor in cheap shoes. The man they served had never once told them I was his wife. Inside, the air smelled faintly of cigar smoke and money. The housekeeper gave me a polite nod, the kind you’d give to a distant relative you hoped would leave soon. No one called me Mrs. Ford. No one dared. Except for Zayne, on the day he put a ring on my finger. But even then, his voice had sounded like he was signing a contract, not a vow. I pushed open the study door—and froze. Jane Dunn was sitting beside him, legs crossed, her laughter soft and warm like music. Zayne was feeding her a cracker topped with caviar. When she leaned forward, he smiled faintly, brushing a crumb from the corner of her mouth. Caviar. Zayne used to hate it. He said the smell made him sick. He banned it from the house—his rule, not mine. Now it sat between them like a shared secret, glistening gold beneath the chandelier. And suddenly, I understood. It wasn’t the caviar that had changed. It was him. I tightened my grip on the papers in my hand. “Zayne,” I said quietly, forcing my voice to stay calm. “This is the school’s medical check-up form. Can you sign it?” Jane turned toward me, smiling sweetly. “Wendy, you’re back! We were just deciding what to have for dinner. You should join us.” Her tone dripped with honey—and pity. She reached out and rested her hand lightly on his arm. “Zayne was just saying how pale you’ve looked lately. You should take better care of yourself.” It was a perfect performance—gentle, caring, and cruel. Zayne looked up briefly, his brow furrowed. “You really should rest more, Wendy.” He reached for the papers. Jane leaned closer, laughing softly. “It’s just a school form, Zayne. Don’t overthink it. You sound more like her big brother than her husband.” Zayne smirked faintly. “Do I?” And then, without another word, he signed his name. The pen’s tip scratched against the paper—swift, careless, final. Ink sealing my freedom. My pulse roared in my ears. I folded the papers before either of them could see the divorce contract tucked beneath the form, my hands trembling so hard I nearly dropped it. “Thanks,” I whispered. And before my voice could crack, I turned and walked out. Outside the study, my breath came fast and shallow. My knees felt weak, but my heart—my heart felt lighter than it had in years. He’d signed it. Without reading. Without realizing. Zayne Ford had just signed away the only woman who ever truly loved him. My father was the driver of Grant Ford, Zayne’s grandfather. He died protecting the man who built this empire. Out of guilt, the Fords took me in. I was sixteen when Grant passed, leaving me under Zayne’s care. He was ten years older—disciplined, distant, brilliant. I mistook admiration for love. He mistook guilt for responsibility. The night of the family banquet, he got drunk and wandered into my room. The next morning, he stood in my doorway and said, “I’ll take responsibility.” I said yes, thinking it was fate. But love built on guilt crumbles faster than paper vows. Then Jane came back from abroad—the woman his family had always preferred. After that, his smiles weren’t mine anymore. His home wasn’t mine anymore. Even his silence didn’t belong to me—it belonged to her. Now, with his careless signature inked across the page, I finally had what I’d prayed for in the dark. Freedom. The ring still weighed heavy on my hand, but it didn’t hurt anymore. Because for the first time, I knew I could take it off. And when he finally realized what he’d signed today—it would already be too late. Chapter 2 Jane had said her apartment was being renovated, so she “had no choice” but to stay in the guest room at the Ford residence for a few weeks. Zayne didn’t even hesitate. “The Dunn family has been our business partner for years,” he said, without looking at me. “It’s the least we can do.” That’s how easily my opinion was erased—again. Just like that, Jane Dunn moved into my home like she belonged there. Within days, she’d made herself comfortable. Silk pajamas in the living room, bare feet on the marble floors, her laughter echoing through the hallways that used to be mine. When I tried to talk to Zayne about the household budget, she’d cut me off mid-sentence, sliding onto the couch beside him with a glass of wine. “Zayne, I made that salmon recipe you love—want to try it later?” He smiled. He never smiled like that with me. One night, passing by the study, I heard her voice through the door—low, teasing. “Do you still remember, Zayne? You used to help me with my math homework.” Zayne chuckled softly. “Of course I remember. You were hopeless at numbers. I practically did it for you.” The warmth in his voice— I’d never heard that tone from him, not once in our marriage. I froze in the doorway. I didn’t want to hear more, but the sound of their laughter drew blood all the same. I turned to leave, but Zayne’s voice caught me mid-step. “Perfect timing, Wendy,” he said easily. “Jane suggested putting a swing in the garden. Come help us pick a design.” Jane looked up with a little tilt of her head. “Oh yes, Wendy, what do you think? Or do you trust Zayne’s taste more?” Her eyes sparkled like she already knew the answer. I forced a small smile. “Anything’s fine. I still have my thesis to finish, so you two can decide.” “A thesis?” Jane giggled. “Oh, I remember mine! Well—Zayne basically wrote it for me. You should let him help you too.” Zayne looked at me, waiting, as if expecting gratitude. But I wasn’t a project that needed saving anymore. “No, thank you,” I said, my voice barely steady. “I can handle it.” I turned before either of them could see the tears gathering in my eyes. My chest felt tight, heavy, like someone pressing a hand over my heart. That night, he came to bed late. He smelled faintly of perfume—the same one Jane always wore. My body stiffened as he lay down beside me. His arm slid around my waist, his lips brushed my neck, warm and practiced. For three years, I’d learned to stay still. To let him find what he needed and leave. But tonight, something inside me revolted. My skin crawled with a sadness that felt like nausea. He noticed. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing. Maybe I ate something bad,” I whispered. He didn’t push. Just patted my back, like a parent soothing a restless child. Minutes later, a voice echoed from downstairs—shaky and soft. “Zayne! The lights went out! I think someone broke into my room!” Jane. Zayne was out of bed before I could speak, pulling on his shirt, rushing downstairs. Half an hour later, he came back. Just a blown bulb. A stray cat in the hall. Still, he’d run to her like she was the only thing worth protecting. And for the first time, I realized—I wasn’t jealous. I was simply… empty. The next morning, I rose early. Zayne was still asleep. Jane was nowhere in sight. I felt relief for the first time in weeks. I picked up my things to leave for the lab—until I realized I’d forgotten my bag. My heart skipped. Inside were the signed divorce papers and my application to the Nord Research Institute. I turned back toward the stairs—just as his voice stopped me cold. “Wendy, did you forget something?” He was standing in the doorway, holding my bag. The papers were in his hand. My stomach dropped. “Those are mine…” His eyes narrowed slightly as he flipped through the documents. “What’s this application to Nord? You’re going abroad?” His tone sharpened. “When did you plan to tell me?” “It’s—it’s for a friend,” I lied, forcing a smile. Zayne’s gaze lingered on me. “Nord, hm? You hate the cold.” That sentence sliced through me. Nord was where we’d spent our honeymoon. I’d told him then that I loved it—the silence, the snow, the peace. He’d forgotten. Or maybe, he’d never cared enough to remember. He slipped the documents back into the bag, his voice calm again, almost too calm. “If you really want to keep doing research, the Ford Medical Center is opening a position for a chief researcher. You can start after graduation.” The offer sounded generous. But it was a leash. I shook my head. “That won’t be necessary. I already have plans.” His eyes darkened. “Plans that don’t include me?” I didn’t answer. Because for the first time, I realized—my plans, my life, my future—never really had. Chapter 3 My supervisor approved my four-year research application to Nord within a day. When I read the confirmation email, my hands shook—not from excitement, but relief. For the first time in years, I saw a door open. A way out. A way to breathe again. To be honest, I had tried to fix things with Zayne. When Jane first came back, I told myself I was overthinking it. That they were just close friends. But every smile he gave her was a knife I couldn’t pull out. Every quiet dinner, every inside joke—they carved little holes in me until there was nothing left to hold. And I realized something cruelly simple. Zayne wasn’t cruel by accident. He was cruel because he was happy. Just not with me. The morning I decided to leave, I woke before dawn. The house was silent, washed in pale winter light. I folded my clothes, my books, my life into a single suitcase. When I walked into the living room, my eyes landed on the crystal photo frame—our wedding photo. Zayne’s hand on my waist. My smile bright, almost foolish. I stared for a long moment before dropping the frame into the trash. The glass cracked, splitting our faces clean in half. Five years of marriage, gone in one quiet click. For a week, I threw myself into my thesis and experiments. I didn’t answer Zayne’s calls. I didn’t go home unless I had to. Oddly enough, silence felt like peace. Then one evening, as I was packing up my notes, my phone buzzed. “Wendy, are you done?” His voice was low, familiar. “I’m outside. I’ll drive you home.” I froze. “You don’t have to—” “I want to,” he said simply. Half an hour later, his black car stopped at the gate. He was in a dark suit, hair slightly messy like he’d rushed over. For a second, I almost forgot how much he could still make my heart ache. “Been busy lately?” he asked as we drove. “Mm. Lots of experiments,” I murmured. He nodded, then after a pause said, “Jane’s moving out next month. She said she doesn’t want to bother you.” I looked out the window. “Tell her it’s fine. I don’t mind.” Zayne’s hands tightened on the wheel. He didn’t expect that answer. He glanced at me, as if he wanted to say something—but stopped. So I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. The next morning, I woke up nauseous. I blamed stress, skipped breakfast, and went straight to the hospital. But when the doctor returned with my test results, his tone was too careful. “Mrs. Ford, congratulations. You’re two and a half months pregnant.” The room blurred. My fingers went cold. Two and a half months. Before Jane came back. For a moment, I wanted to laugh—because fate was playing a joke that wasn’t funny. I walked out of the examination room in a daze, clutching the ultrasound photo. That tiny heartbeat on paper—it should’ve felt like hope. Instead, it felt like punishment. I called Zayne’s number. It rang once— Then I saw him. He was walking through the hospital doors with Jane beside him. She was wearing his jacket, her hand resting on her flat stomach. And I heard the doctor’s voice from behind them, cheerful and oblivious: “Miss Dunn, congratulations. Please avoid heavy lifting. The baby looks healthy.” The sound hit harder than any slap. Jane… was pregnant too. My breath caught. The world tilted. Zayne froze when he saw me, shock flashing across his face before he walked over quickly. “Wendy? What are you doing here?” I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Nothing. Just… a check-up.” His gaze dropped to the folder in my hands. “You look pale. What’s wrong?” “Headache,” I said quietly. “It’s nothing.” He reached for me, but I stepped back, clutching my bag so tightly the ultrasound photo bent inside. “I have to go.” “Wendy, wait—let me explain.” “Explain what?” My voice cracked, sharp and broken. “That she’s carrying your child too?” He flinched. “It’s not—” “Don’t,” I whispered. “Don’t touch me.” Jane’s voice broke through, trembling but soft, like a dagger wrapped in silk. “Zayne, you promised me… Don’t let anyone find out, please…” Her fingers curled around his sleeve. He froze, torn between us. That was all I needed to see. I turned away before my tears could fall. The wind outside was sharp, cutting into my cheeks. I pressed a hand over my stomach and whispered to no one, “Don’t worry, little one. We’re leaving soon.” The city blurred around me. And for the first time, I wasn’t afraid of being alone— I was afraid of staying. Chapter 4 Rick Smith, Zayne’s assistant, showed up at the lab the next afternoon. “Mrs. Ford, Mr. Ford would like to have dinner with you tonight. Season Restaurant at seven.” Season Restaurant. The name hit me like a stone. That was the place I’d waited for him on our first anniversary—five hours alone, the candles melting down to nothing. He never showed. I hesitated, then nodded. “Tell him I’ll be there.” That evening, the restaurant glowed with golden light. Zayne was already seated by the window, in a charcoal suit and gold-rimmed glasses. He looked up as I walked in, smiling faintly—like everything between us had just been a misunderstanding we could smooth over with dinner. “Wendy.” The way he said my name still made my heart stutter. Even now, after everything, I still reacted like a fool in love. He stood and pulled out my chair, his manners perfect, distant. I sat, forcing my shaking hands into my lap. He studied me for a moment, his voice low. “Wendy, I wanted to talk to you.” I looked up, searching his eyes. “About what?” He hesitated. His fingers brushed his glass. “I know I’ve neglected you lately… but about Jane and me—” The phone on the table buzzed. Rick’s name flashed across the screen. Zayne answered. “Rick, what is it?” “Sir,” Rick’s voice came through, tense, “Ms. Dunn just tried to slit her wrists.” The world stopped. Zayne’s chair scraped back violently. “What?! Where is she?” He didn’t look at me again. Not once. As he rushed toward the door, I whispered, “Zayne, just go.” He paused, guilt flickering across his face. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.” But promises didn’t mean anything anymore. He left. And the moment the door closed, my body went cold. The air felt too thin to breathe. Then—darkness. When I opened my eyes, the ceiling was white, the air sharp with antiseptic. A hospital room. Rick stood near the bed, talking to a doctor. When the doctor saw me stir, he turned. “Mrs. Ford, you’re awake.” My hand went instinctively to my stomach. Would he tell them? The doctor cleared his throat. “You’re weak, you need rest. And also, you’re preg—” Cold sweat broke out on my back. “Please,” I whispered quickly, “don’t tell anyone. Not even him.” The doctor looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. “Of course. It’s your choice.” Just then, Rick’s phone rang again. “Yes, sir,” he said and stepped out. When he came back, his tone was brisk. “Mr. Ford has an emergency. He won’t be coming. He asked me to leave this for you.” He placed a credit card on the side table. “If you need anything, use that.” Then he was gone. That night, I couldn’t sleep. The nurses whispered outside my room, their voices slicing through the quiet. “That Ms. Dunn is so lucky—Mr. Ford comes every day.” “He even cooks for her himself! I heard she’s carrying his heir.” “Three months pregnant, can you imagine? He dotes on her.” Each word was a blade. The wife they were talking about wasn’t Jane. It was me. But no one knew. Because Zayne never let them know. Three days later, I was discharged. The first place I went wasn’t home. It was the courthouse. When the clerk handed me the stamped divorce decree, my hands trembled, but I didn’t cry. Not anymore. Five years of silence had already dried up all my tears. Outside the building, snow had started to fall—light, cold, endless. I looked up, feeling one flake melt against my skin. I opened my phone and booked a courier. The official documents would be sent to Zayne’s office. But I set the delivery date for three days later. By the time he received them, I’d already be gone— thousands of miles away, where the air didn’t taste like betrayal. I pressed a hand over my stomach and whispered softly, “We’ll start over, little one. Somewhere he can never find us.” Chapter 5 The morning I was set to leave for Nord, I sent an email to my supervisor. I hesitated before adding the last line— I’m pregnant. For a few minutes, I just stared at the blinking cursor, wondering if this would change everything. Would they still want me? Would they see me as a burden? Then his reply came almost instantly. “My goodness, Wendy! That’s wonderful news! Congratulations! Don’t worry about a thing—I’ll arrange your accommodation, prenatal checkups, everything. Someone will meet you at the airport and take you straight to your new home.” The words blurred before my eyes. No judgment. No disappointment. Just kindness. For the first time in months, I felt safe. Safe enough to cry. When I packed that morning, I chose a loose cotton dress—something soft, something that could hide the small swell of my belly. Each fold of fabric felt like a goodbye. Goodbye to the girl who waited. Goodbye to the wife who begged. Goodbye to the woman who kept loving a man who had already stopped. At the airport, a young man waved as soon as he saw me. “Wendy Morgan?” He had warm hazel eyes and a smile that felt like sunlight. “Hi, I’m Shaun Rivers,” he said, taking my suitcase before I could refuse. “Welcome to Nord’s research program. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” He spoke with a quiet confidence that eased my nerves. It was my first time leaving home alone—and I wasn’t alone anymore. “Thank you,” I said softly. Shaun smiled. “You’ve done enough thanking for a lifetime. Just breathe, Wendy. I’ll handle everything.” While we waited near the gate, I suddenly froze. A voice I knew better than my own broke through the crowd. “Jane, be careful.” My heart stopped. Zayne. I turned instinctively, and there he was—tall, composed, walking beside Jane Dunn. Her hand rested on her belly. His gaze was protective, gentle. I ducked my head so fast I nearly dropped my passport. “Zayne,” Jane’s voice rang out, sweet and casual. “I want to try that new café. Come with me?” He hesitated. “Wait, I thought I heard—Wendy—” My pulse thundered in my ears. I bent lower, pretending to fix my luggage. Don’t see me. Please, don’t see me. Jane tugged his arm. “She’s probably at the lab. You’ll just distract her. Come on, Zayne.” And just like that, he let her pull him away. I exhaled shakily, my chest tight with something that wasn’t quite relief and not quite sorrow. He hadn’t even looked twice. I watched their figures disappear into the crowd, realizing how strange it was— how, even at the end, it was Jane who helped me escape. “Wendy?” Shaun’s voice pulled me back. “It’s time for security.” I nodded, clutching my passport. At the checkpoint, Shaun handed me a small postcard. “Here. You can mail this home once you settle in. Just so they know you’re safe.” The photo showed a vast glacier—blue and endless. A new world. I smiled faintly and dropped it into the trash. “I don’t have anyone to send it to.” On the plane, Shaun double-checked everything for me, kind and professional. “The lab’s already prepared your workspace,” he said. “And your new place is near the research center. Just focus on your health, okay?” I nodded, trying to hold back the tears. Because in four years of marriage, Zayne Ford had never once said those words to me. When the plane began to move, I looked out the window. The city stretched beneath the clouds—cold, glittering, beautiful, and full of ghosts. I pressed my hand gently over my stomach. “Zayne Ford,” I whispered, “we’re truly over.” The engines roared, and for the first time, I didn’t flinch. The city grew smaller, then vanished entirely beneath the clouds. And just like that, I was free.