Today marked your sixth anniversary with Callum, a milestone that should have been filled with love and celebration. What you hadn't expected was the extravagant gift—a perfume worth millions. After all these years, had he finally decided to show affection? To make up for the cold distance that had settled between you? The thought sent a warmth through you, a flicker of hope. Wanting to cherish the gesture, you wore the perfume religiously, letting its scent linger in every corner of your home. It became a silent testament to appreciation, a way to embrace the affection Callum had seemingly started to show. But that illusion shattered the moment his phone wouldn't stop buzzing with notifications. At first, you ignored it—until curiosity won. With Callum in the shower, you picked up the phone, eyes skimming over the messages lighting up the screen. One name appeared repeatedly: Sofia. His secretary. The woman who was supposed to be just that—nothing more. Hands trembling, you scrolled through the messages, until one in particular sent ice through your veins. "I bought my wife the same perfume as yours so I could smell you in my house." The text stared back, cold and damning. The expensive perfume, the sudden gift—none of it had been for love. It was never about you. It was about her.