“I thought my five-year marriage to tech CEO Emilio was perfect. I was the architect of our beautiful life, putting my own prestigious career on hold to support his rise to the top. That illusion shattered when an email flashed on his screen: an invitation to the christening of his son. A son I never knew existed, with a social media influencer as the mother. The affair became public at a gala thrown in my honor. The little boy ran to Emilio, calling him "Daddy" and accusing me of trying to steal him away. To protect his son, Emilio shoved me. I fell, hit my head, and woke up in a hospital bed to the news that I had miscarried the baby I had just discovered I was carrying. He never came. He left me bleeding on the floor to comfort his son and mistress, abandoning me, our marriage, and the child we lost without a second glance. Days later, his mistress sent men to finish the job. They pushed me from a cliff into the churning water below. But I survived. I let the world believe I was dead as I accepted a prestigious architectural fellowship in Zurich. It was time for Elana Thomas to die, so I could finally live.”