His Political Lie, My Shattered Love

thought our love story was real. It was a lie, a public spectac

e and his mistress were laughing about how predictable I

iliated me at a charity auction that left me bankrupt, and even had

. He planned a "tragic hiking accident" at a remote cliff d

s a baker in a quiet town. A year later, he found me, haunted by regret, but his fin

pte

ce

what it is: a lie. My love story with Cole was a beautifully crafted lie, a p

hours pr

his favorite osso buco, a dish so intricate it usually required a culin

and empty tonight. The city lights glittered outside, re

s carefully chosen. I looked the part of the devoted wife, waiting for her celebrated husba

mised. He

th what I now knew were crocodile tears. "I' ve changed. I

ed him.

d the air, a cruel parody of domestic bliss.

Campaigns were demanding. Any wife should understand. I tried to swallow th

a soft

ion. He was usually meticulous about privacy, but tonight, perhaps in hi

green bubble, a group c

od ran

the cool glass. No password. Of course not. He didn't th

led down, a nightm

for it again? The osso bu

maker. Says she wants to make up for lost time. Litt

e public loves a reunited power cou

reconciliation, the tender whispers, the promises of forever. All a performance. A

cate diamond pendant, n

ler family heirloom. Grace thinks I'm wearing it to

in his safe, claiming it had been "misplaced" for years, and now he wanted me

ark overture to a symphony of humiliation. I was a pawn, a

of rage formed inside me, calcifying over the gaping wound of

. I knew who to call. A name I' d kept in the back of my mind,

one: "I need to disappear. Permanently. Make it

eeks from tonight. A small, innocent r

ne echoed through the silent apartment. "Grace? Hon

. He held a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses, their petals still dewy. He leaned in, his lips brushing my t

a suffocating embrace. His arms felt like steel bands, trap

ating. He' d swept me off my feet, a powerful man captivated by a journalist who dared to speak truth

that felt brittle as glass. My voice was steady.

feigned curiosity. "Oh?

d, so low he almost missed i

ctory and deceit. A single tear escaped my eye, tracing

g?" he asked, his voice d

lied, the lie tasting

The sound was deafening to my ears, but inside, I was eerily calm. Cole was alr