"Ella Lu point of view"
The coffee machine hissed, spitting steam into the quiet break room. The kind of place no one lingered unless they needed caffeine or a reason to disappear. I needed both.
I stood near the window, nursing my cup of hot water—still pretending it was coffee. I liked the bitterness, the ritual, but not the caffeine. I had enough adrenaline flooding my system already.
Behind me, the door creaked open. Two women from HR strolled in, mid-conversation. I knew their faces, not their names. They didn't notice me tucked into the corner.
"Did you see him this morning?"
"Are you kidding? He passed right by my desk. That suit. That face. God. He's even hotter in person."
I turned my face to the window. My reflection stared back. Pale. Expressionless.
"Chloe Fairbanks is with him again, right?"
"Of course. She practically breathes his air. Rumor is he's proposing this month. She was flashing some massive diamond in Paris last week."
"Seriously? That fast?"
"Please. She's been waiting years. He was abroad expanding Lu Group, and she followed him like a shadow. They're power couple goals."
I gripped the cup tighter.
"Still... It's kind of cold, right? The whole mystery wife thing? Didn't he have to marry someone to get his inheritance? I heard the story was true."
"It was. Super hush-hush. He married some nobody at the courthouse and left the country the next day. No face, no name, nothing. Just—poof."
"Do you think it was Chloe the whole time? Maybe they staged it."
"No way. I heard it was real. A total stranger. Just a placeholder wife. Probably signed some ironclad NDA. I mean, can you imagine being forgotten like that?"
"Imagine being married to Damian Lu... and not even worth remembering."
The laugh that followed hit harder than it should have.
My heart had slowed to a crawl. The air felt thinner.
Damian Lu.
Of course people were talking. Of course they made stories out of us. It had become urban legend. A business fairytale. Rich CEO, secret marriage, mystery bride.
No one imagined the bride worked three floors below, scanning budgets and eating lunch at her desk.
"Anyway," one of them said, rustling a sugar packet, "I wouldn't care if he forgot my name. I'd let him forget it every day if it meant waking up to that face."
"Stop. You're terrible."
I turned slowly, pretending to toss my cup. Their laughter faltered when they noticed me.
"Oh, hi," one said, trying to sound friendly.
I nodded once, forced a neutral smile, and left without a word.
The hallway felt colder.
So he hadn't just returned.
He returned with her.
And he planned to marry her.
And somewhere buried in a locked drawer or forgotten hard drive, I was still his wife.
I walked back to my desk in a daze. Caleb wasn't there. Thank God. I didn't want questions.
I sat, clicked open a spreadsheet, stared at it.
I was going to be erased.
Again.
They were right. I wasn't worth remembering. Not to him.
But I remembered him.
His voice. His name. His silence.
I hadn't even known he left the country until a month after the wedding. No calls. No updates. Just gone. I checked the courthouse records twice to make sure I hadn't imagined it.
Now he was back. And his world still spun without me.
Chloe Fairbanks. The woman with the diamond. The perfect arm-candy. The kind of woman they write about.
And me?
I had three cardigans in rotation, shoes with worn soles, and a box of noodles waiting for me at lunch.
I opened a blank document and stared at the cursor blinking like a warning.
If he didn't know who I was, then I could leave.
But leaving meant surrendering.
And something in me—the part that signed that contract two years ago with steady hands and no tears—wasn't ready to surrender.
I minimized the screen and opened my email instead. Buried under finance reports was an old scanned copy of the marriage certificate. I hadn't deleted it. Not out of sentiment. Out of necessity.
Proof.
That this happened.
That I wasn't crazy.
That once, someone chose me—even if it was only to inherit a fortune.
The certificate glared back at me.
Ella Lu.
That was still my name.
But it wouldn't be for much longer.
I clicked the file shut. Shut it hard.
If he wanted to forget me so badly, I'd make damn sure I gave him a reason to remember.