Veronica looked at her watch. Her eyes daunting at the time. It was 3am in the morning. He was late again as so she knew.
This isn't the first time something like this had happened. When it came to Jayce, his timing are always irregular.
Veronica sat on the couch, her head high as she closes her eyes trying to figure out what went wrong.
She takes in a deep breathe while her hands tightly crunches the leather of the sofa. Her robe covering up her body, yet timidly exposing her chest area.
Just when Veronica thought the night couldn't sink any lower, the door creaked open. Stumbling inside was her husband—drunk, wasted, and reeking of smoke and liquor.
He looked wrecked, as if the city itself had chewed him up and spat him back out. His shirt was untucked, collar smeared, and his knuckles bore faint bruises. From the glazed look in his eyes to the uneven swagger of his steps, Veronica didn't need to ask—he had partied hard, recklessly, like a man with nothing left to lose.
"Did you have a good time" she uttered to him but he ignored and walks up the stairs case. Veronica didn't even bother turning to face him at this point. He was a lost case.
"Our Anniversary is tommorow. And your Dad said you should come along like every husband does in support of their wife" Veronica speaks In a low but demanding tone.
Jayce stood for a sec, halfway up the stairs before turning his attention to Veronica.
"And if I don't" he stepps forward placing his arm over her on the sofa from behind.
"You know damn well what's gonna happen to you Jayce. Don't play with me" Veronica raises her head high facing him.
"So let's get this over with" Jayce stays quiet. Didn't agree or disagree. Without saying anything, he walked out on her leaving her sitting on her own.
Veronica had always known their so-called marriage was a farce. "Toxic" was too soft a word—it implied something alive, something passionate twisted the wrong way. But what she had with Jayce wasn't even close to a relationship.
It was a performance.
A carefully constructed illusion staged for the hungry eyes of society, where smiles were painted on like masks and every public touch was rehearsed. The Madrids thrived on appearances, and she was nothing more than a pawn sacrificed for their perfect image. Their empire glittered with wealth and whispered influence, but at its core it was fragile—held together by shadows, secrets, and lies.
And what better way to polish the façade than with a marriage that screamed perfection? A union between two powerful families, bound not by love but by expectation.
She hadn't been asked if she wanted Jayce. She had been pushed—cornered into vows that meant nothing. He never looked at her, not even on their wedding day when her hands trembled inside his. His eyes had always wandered elsewhere, as though she were just a prop in a play he didn't care to perform.
And still, society applauded. They saw golden rings, designer clothes, staged kisses—and believed the Madrids were as flawless as their fortune. No one cared enough to look beyond the polished surface, to see the cracks forming beneath.
But Veronica felt every one of them.
'Tommorow is gonna be a long day' she thought to herself as she stands up from the couch and makes her way up the stairs to her room. A room apart from Jayce's.
'A really long day'.