The Penthouse Wife's Ultimate Revenge

Eliza Anderson's POV:

My phone vibrated again, and I clenched it tighter. Gage glanced at my trembling hand, his eyes narrowing slightly, a flicker of suspicion crossing his face.

He met my gaze, and his smile faltered for a split second, almost freezing.

"Eliza, is everything all right?" he asked, his tone carrying a hint of concern—or was it wariness? He picked up his phone from the kitchen counter and swiped through notifications with practiced ease.

"Just work emails," I lied, my voice flat and emotionless, my face immediately shifting into an apologetic, charming smile.

"Ah, these late-night emails. I'm so sorry, darling, for disturbing our morning." He walked over, slipped an arm around my waist, pulled me close, and his lips brushed lightly against my forehead.

"Actually," he whispered in my ear, "I almost forgot! I have a surprise for you." He pulled out his phone again and showed me the screen. It was a booking confirmation.

"Bora Bora, first class, for two. Just us." His eyes sparkled with feigned delight. "I know you've always wanted to go there. A little pre-wedding trip, just the two of us—my way of making up for being so busy with work."

He shook his head and laughed self-deprecatingly. "My job is absolutely crazy, but I carved out this time. Just you and me, away from everything."

He held the phone out to me, waiting for my reaction. I stared at the booking information, the text blurring. Bora Bora. The honeymoon I'd just canceled.

The honeymoon he'd planned with Caroline. My stomach churned. The taste of irony was bitter in my mouth. "That's wonderful, Gage."

I forced the words out, my voice dripping with false enthusiasm. "I'm so looking forward to it." This was the game I had to play, and I'd play it well. I wouldn't let them see me break.

The next morning, the penthouse was filled with the aroma of coffee and freshly baked croissants.

Surprisingly, Gage was in the kitchen, wearing a crisp white apron over his perfectly pressed shirt. He hummed a cheerful tune as he flipped pancakes.

Caroline sat at the breakfast bar, drinking orange juice, glowing. "Good morning, Eliza!" she greeted cheerfully, looking up from her phone screen. "Gage made us a feast!"

Gage turned around with a gentle smile. "Good morning, darling. Caroline specifically requested her favorite French toast. And you, my love—your usual berry smoothie."

He set the smoothie in front of me, then turned to Caroline and gently pushed a plate of French toast toward her. "Eat up, baby. You need your strength."

He came over to me and kissed my forehead. "Eliza, I'll be working late at the hospital tonight. Big surgery, complex case. Don't wait up for me." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Of course, Gage," I said softly. I reached up and smoothed his hair—a gesture I'd practiced a thousand times. "Be careful. Try to rest when you can."

I watched him leave, his handsome figure disappearing down the hallway. Caroline followed him to the door, waving goodbye. Then she turned around, a smug expression on her face, and walked back into the kitchen.

Once they were both gone, I headed straight for Gage's master bedroom. I pulled a small metal key from the bottom of my jewelry box. The lock clicked softly and swung open with a dull thud.

I pushed the door open. The room was spotless, a perfect reflection of his obsession with tidiness. It smelled of Gage's cologne, mixed with a hint of Caroline's cheap perfume.

I walked straight to the bed—the luxurious king-sized bed where they'd carried out their betrayal. I lifted the heavy mattress. Beneath it, a small velvet pouch was hidden. I found it. Caroline's diary. Filled with her elegant handwriting, documenting every sordid detail.

I started reading. Her words leaped off the page, each one a stab to my heart.

"Gage's 'insomnia' is such a brilliant excuse. Eliza is so naive! She actually believes it. She even buys him special tea! Haha! While she's sleeping peacefully in the guest room, I'm in her master bedroom, in her bed, with her fiancé." My hand tightened around the diary, fury rising.

"Poor thing, always trying to be the perfect girlfriend, the supportive partner. Doesn't she know Gage needs excitement, not some tame little perfumer? I'm what he really wants."

"He says I'm lively, fun. He says Eliza is... comfortable. Boring. He can't wait for the wedding so he can finally be rid of her. Then this penthouse, his career, our baby... it'll all be mine. All mine!"

The more I read, the colder I felt. I recalled countless conversations with Caroline—her subtle barbs, her fake compliments.

"Eliza, you're so lucky to have a man like Gage. He's so handsome and successful. But you know, men sometimes need a little passion. You're just so calm, so grounded."

At the time, I'd brushed it off, thinking it was her own insecurity talking. Now I saw the truth behind her words. She wasn't envious of me—she was studying me, waiting for her chance to take everything. She wanted to take everything from me.

I was about to tear the diary to shreds when something else caught my eye. Hidden beneath the diary was a snow-white envelope with my name scrawled across it in hurried handwriting.

I opened it. Despite my resolve, my fingers still trembled. Inside was a medical report.

And an ultrasound photo. "Patient: Caroline Stafford." Date: two weeks ago. "Estimated gestational age: 12 weeks."

My vision blurred. On the signature line, clearly visible: "Attending Physician: Gage Morrison."