Part 1: The Blueprint of Betrayal
I remember the scent of the hospital room on the day of my pre-pregnancy checkup. It smelled sterile, hopeful, and entirely misleading. Ethan O’Connell, my husband of three years, was standing by the window, the sun glinting off his expensive watch. I thought we were planning a family; he was planning an exit.
“Eve, about the mall you built for Kate,” my doctor, a family friend, asked casually, unaware she was handing me the razor-sharp truth.
“It’s about to open, isn’t it?”
Ethan’s voice was low, laced with a tired, dark pride.
“I’d clear any obstacle for the sake of her happiness. Myra hasn’t been able to conceive after all these years.”
I froze. My inability to conceive wasn’t physical. It was deliberate.
“That’s because I won’t allow any other woman to bear my child,” Ethan stated plainly, his eyes hard.
The world shattered. My marriage, my life, the sanctuary I thought I’d built after the humiliation of my first broken engagement—it was all a sham. I was never his wife; I was a pawn in a game of corporate chess. He had married me, an accomplished architect, only because he couldn’t have Kate Jett, my so-called best friend, and he needed a temporary cover.
I later learned the full truth: Kate’s mall, Katyal, was not her design. It was mine. Ethan had stolen my life’s work—a cherished blueprint I’d created for a memorial art gallery for my late parents—and used it to build an empire for his true love. He married me to pave the way for Kate’s career, stealing my ideas while ensuring I remained sterile.
Then came the twisted irony. The day after the revelation, Kate showed up at our penthouse, radiant, pregnant, and sickeningly sweet.
“Kate’s pregnant,” Ethan announced, his face glowing with fatherly pride.
“She wanted to try your cooking, so I brought her here. You don’t mind, do you?”
“What if I do?” I whispered, the rage a cold fire in my gut.
Kate waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, Ethan. Like I said, we shouldn’t trouble Myra. I should just go.”
“Myra, could you be a little more considerate? Kate’s pregnant,” Ethan chided me, the words slicing deeper than any knife.
I smiled, a brittle, terrifyingly perfect smile.
“I was just joking. Kate’s my best friend. I couldn’t be more worried about her pregnancy cravings. I’ll do it.”
I’ll do it. I would cook for the woman carrying my husband’s child, the woman for whom he stole my dreams. I would play the role of the devoted, naive wife until the day I could burn their perfect world down.
Part 2: The Ocean Heart and The Humiliation
The humiliation was relentless. I watched Ethan feed Kate, hovering over her every need. At a party one night, I found Ethan and Kate being toasted by his friends.
“All of the malls under O’Connell Group are named after Kate! Myra might be Ethan’s wife, but the woman who will truly be remembered for standing by Ethan’s side is none other than Kate!” one friend declared, roaring with laughter.
They didn’t even bother to hide it.
Then, Kate’s eyes landed on a stunning piece of jewelry one of the friends brought out: The Ocean Heart necklace, recently sold for $300 million at auction.
“The Ocean Heart! Ethan, is this your gift for me?” Kate cooed.
Ethan, ever the master of the subtle dismissal, said.
“Oh, I bought this on behalf of a client. This necklace doesn’t really suit you. I’ll take you shopping for another one.”
It didn’t suit her, but she wasn’t worthy of it. I realized I had seen that necklace before, on my computer, in a mock-up image for a jewelry line I had designed years ago.
Later that night, I showed up at the exclusive club where they were celebrating. When I confronted them, Ethan, panicked, protected Kate.
“Myra, you’re not in great health, and it’s already late. You might catch a cold,” he stammered.
Kate, bolder now, stepped in.
“I was the one who dragged Ethan along. As you know, I’m pregnant. You’re my best friend. It’s only right that Ethan takes care of you.”
Then, on cue, a clumsy waiter “accidentally” spilled milk all over me. The friends jeered, suggesting I should take a shower because I “smell weird.”
Ethan, performing for the room, erupted in a fake display of chivalry, firing the waiter on the spot and pulling me close.
“My wife would be disfigured had it been boiling water! Scram!”
“What an act, Ethan,” I muttered, wiping the milk off my silk dress.
“Those who don’t know must think you love me a lot.”
That night, I made my decision. Their love was a stage, and I was the costume they were tired of wearing. It was time for a dramatic exit.
Part 3: The Vanishing Act
I secured my visa to a remote destination—Hetrin—and packed a small bag. When Ethan asked about the wedding photo I was taking, I gave him one final, meaningless lie.
“Because I’m going to miss you, silly.”
He smiled, oblivious.
“One of my malls are opening tonight, so I won’t see you off. Stay safe.”
The mall opening. Katyal. The night my art gallery was supposed to be born. It was the perfect stage for my vanishing act.
I didn’t go to the airport. I went to the opening, where Kate was basking in the glory of my stolen design, giving a speech as the “youngest architect to become globally renowned.”
As she spoke, I calmly approached the stage.
“Isn’t that the blueprint I designed back then? Why is it? That’s my blueprint! How did it become yours?” I challenged her.
Kate laughed, a cold, triumphant sound.
“Surprised? Oh, Myra, you probably don’t even realize that Ethan only married you because he couldn’t have me. He was also afraid that you’d get too close with my husband.”
I turned to Ethan, who rushed over, his face pale.
“Ethan, tell me the truth! Why does the blueprint for this mall look exactly like the one I had on my computer?”
“It’s just a blueprint, what about it?” he retorted, his defense of her absolute.
As Kate clutched her stomach, feigning pain, the security guards dragged me away. I watched Ethan, the man who had abandoned me at the altar once before, look at me with nothing but cold fury.
“You can’t just hurt her, even if you hate her! Do you have any idea how hard it was for Kate to conceive?”
Hard to conceive? I thought. Try having your heart ripped out for three years.
I was bundled into a car and driven toward the airport. As I sat there, I sent a final text message to Ethan, an accidental click of a button.
“Sorry, I sent it to the wrong person. I’ll delete it.”
He called back immediately, the desperation in his voice a chilling performance.
But I was already on my way to my doom.
Part 4: The Black Box
I boarded the private jet, alone. I knew the flight plan. I knew the danger. It was the only way to escape them forever and set my revenge in motion.
Hours later, the emergency sirens blared.
“Mrs. O’Connell, the plane’s about to explode! Please put on your oxygen mask! We’ll try to land in the forest!”
I didn’t move. I calmly pressed the record button on a small, hidden device and spoke into the silence.
“Ethan O’Connell, I’m probably going to die soon. Although everything you’ve done over the past 3 years was nothing but an act, I’m still grateful that you stayed by my side. I wanted to thank you for giving me a marriage built on lies, but I realized that it was all pretend and that you’ve pushed me back into the abyss. That blueprint was for an art gallery that I wanted to build for my dead parents to fulfill their dreams. Instead, you used it to win over Kate’s heart and built her a mall instead. Goodbye, Ethan.”
I recorded my final words, then removed the oxygen mask. I threw my wedding ring into a crevice and strapped myself into the seat.
When the crash came, I was ready.
Except I didn’t die.
Part 5: The Resurrection
Ethan, meanwhile, had descended into a frantic hell. He ignored Kate, who rushed to his side, consumed by his guilt.
“Mr. O’Connell, we’ve extracted the data from the plane’s black box,” his assistant announced.
Ethan listened, agonizingly, to my final message.
“…I wanted to thank you for giving me a marriage built on lies, but I realized that it was all pretend and that you’ve pushed me back into the abyss… Goodbye, Ethan.”
He shattered. He screamed, he drank, he raged. He finally realized the scope of his betrayal. My death had not freed him; it had chained him to an unforgivable guilt.
Kate, seeing her opportunity, tried to force a funeral, urging him to move on.
“Eve never loved you and he never will! Now that she’s dead, just let her go completely!” she yelled, trying to burn my belongings.
“Shut up! Who says she’s dead?” Ethan roared, pushing her away.
Kate later suffered a terrible tragedy, losing her baby and having her husband, Cody Bush (my ex-fiancé, now her husband), abandon her. Ethan, fueled by his misplaced guilt, rushed to comfort her, only to be caught by the press, who were already circling his reputation.
Finally, the police confirmed my death. They brought him a small box of remains—cremated ashes—and a death certificate.
“Myra, I hate you,” Ethan whispered, clutching the urn, tears streaming down his face.
“But I have no right to do that.”
Meanwhile, I had survived. I was rescued, nursed back to health, and given a new identity. I moved to Zucho and, two years later, opened my own architecture firm. The mall, Katyal, had opened, and its fame, built on a lie, was soaring.
Part 6: The Duel for the Architect
Two years later, I was Myra Hale, a successful, independent architect, backed by the unwavering support of a new man: Ryan Till. Ryan, kind and constant, had fallen for me and protected me from my shame, demanding nothing in return.
One night, at my new art gallery’s opening—the real art gallery, fulfilling my parents’ dream—Ethan appeared. He had tracked me down.
“Myra, thank goodness you’re still alive! I’ve been looking for you. I’ve really missed you for the past 2 years,” he pleaded, trying to touch me.
I pulled away, cold as ice.
“I don’t know what you’re saying. And I don’t even know you.”
Ryan stepped in, protective and calm.
“She said that she doesn’t know you. I hope you can restrain yourself. Sexual harassment is punishable by law.”
“Your wife? Try calling her. See if she responds,” Ryan challenged.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Ryan Till, Myra’s boyfriend.”
The duel began. Ethan, now desperate, tried every tactic—begging, bribing, stalking. He even sabotaged my gallery, spreading rumors that it was a front for a scam. Ryan, with a single phone call, fixed the entire situation, delivering masterpieces to the gallery the very next day.
I realized then what true love was. It wasn’t the volatile, possessive obsession I had with Ethan. It was Ryan’s quiet, steadfast devotion.
Part 7: The Final Bill
The opening was a success. Ethan showed up, uninvited, one last time.
“You’re right. I’m utterly shameless,” he admitted.
“I only regret not realizing sooner about who I truly loved. I hurt her again and again because of you, Kate.”
Kate, enraged by his final rejection, rushed me.
“Myra Hale, if I can’t have a happy ending, then I won’t let you live in peace, either!”
Ethan, in a tragic twist, pushed me away from Kate’s attack, taking the full force of the blow. He was the one who ended up in the emergency room.
In his recovery, he gave up. He transferred his entire business to my name, renamed Katyal to Myra’s Mall, and publicly announced his permanent ban of Kate, exposing her plagiarism.
When he finally brought me my wedding ring and the Ocean Heart necklace, begging for a final chance, I looked him in the eye.
“It took me so many years to see who you really are. I don’t want to spend even more to get to know you all over again,” I said.
He had lost me completely. Not to death, but to his own betrayal.
Later, Ryan asked me to marry him, presenting me with a wedding ring he had personally designed.
“Ryan Till, I’ll give you my answer now,” I said, tears finally falling for all the pain I had endured and the love I had found.
“Help me put it on.”
I had my life back. I had my dreams back. And I had a love that was real.
