Wife Ends Hamilton Empire

Synopsis

The elevator doors slid open to the forty-eighth floor of our Manhattan penthouse. I stepped out, my heels clicking against the marble flooring as I adjusted the Hermès scarf around my neck. The board meeting had ended early, giving me a rare chance to surprise Marcus with lunch. Ten years of marriage, and I still clung to these small gestures, these desperate attempts to rekindle what we once had. The penthouse was unusually quiet. Normally, Mrs. Reynolds, our housekeeper, would be bustling about, but it was her day off. I set my purse down on the console table, noticing Marcus's keys were there. Good. He was home. "Marcus?" I called out, my voice echoing through our sprawling home. No answer. I slipped off my Louboutins, padding quietly across the living room toward his study. As I rounded the corner into our main living area, I froze.