My name is Alana, and three years ago, I married Nathan Cross, one of the most powerful CEOs in the country. I know what you’re thinking—another gold digger story. But the truth is, I never wanted any of this. I was perfectly happy as a small-town librarian until Nathan walked into my life and changed everything.
Living in Nathan’s world feels like wearing shoes that are two sizes too small; everything looks perfect on the outside, but you’re in constant discomfort. The charity galas, the business dinners, the forty-two-room mansion that feels more like a museum than a home—I’ve never truly felt I belonged.
If there’s one person who has made sure I never forget that, it’s Victoria Cross, Nathan’s older sister. Victoria is everything I’m not: sophisticated, sharp-tongued, and ruthless. She’s beautiful in a cold, untouchable way. From the moment we met, she made it clear she thought I was temporary, a quaint little project her brother had picked up. She sees my happy marriage to Nathan as a personal insult, especially given her own track record of three spectacularly failed marriages. The truth is, Nathan chose me, and for three years, that simple fact has driven Victoria insane.
Nathan, for his part, either doesn’t see his sister’s cruelty or chooses to ignore it. He’s a man who avoids conflict, and I’ve never had the courage to tell him how sharp his sister’s barbs truly are.
Today is our third wedding anniversary, and Nathan insisted on throwing a party—a grand celebration with two hundred of the city’s most influential people. When he told me, my stomach dropped. The morning of the party, I woke with a familiar knot of dread. Nathan, however, was beaming. “Good morning, Mrs. Cross,” he said, kissing my forehead. “You’re going to be perfect tonight. You always are.”
At 3:00 p.m., Victoria arrived, sweeping through the front door like a queen surveying her domain. “Alana, darling,” she said, air-kissing my cheeks while her eyes critiqued the flower arrangements. “These centerpieces are a bit… much, don’t you think? But then again, I suppose not everyone has an eye for true elegance.” I followed her around our home, listening to her find fault in everything, my own anxiety growing with each passive-aggressive comment.
By 7:00 p.m., the mansion was filled with senators, billionaires, and their wives, who all seemed to speak a secret language of old money and new power. I stood in a midnight blue dress Nathan had chosen for me, a silent ship in a glittering, foreign sea. I watched Nathan work the room with an ease I could only dream of, and I felt both proud and incredibly small.
Victoria glided through the crowd like a shark, dropping little poison pills of information into every conversation. I saw her pointing at me, saw the knowing looks and raised eyebrows that followed. A woman named Margaret Henderson approached me. “Victoria was just telling me about your humble beginnings,” she said, the pause before the word “humble” feeling like a slap.
The whispers became a chorus. “Gold digger,” someone muttered. “I give it another year before he comes to his senses.” I felt like I was drowning.
The breaking point came when I overheard Victoria holding court near the dessert table. “She’s sweet, really,” she was saying to a rapt aud/ience. “But you have to understand, she worked in a small-town library. Some people just aren’t cut out for this level of society.”
Three years of biting my tongue, of absorbing her cruelty, finally snapped. I walked straight toward her group. The conversation stopped. “Alana, darling,” Victoria said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “We were just discussing the charity auction. Perhaps you’d like to contribute a book recommendation?”
The other women tittered. “Actually, Victoria,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady, “I’d like to contribute some honesty. For three years, you’ve made it clear that you think I’m not good enough for Nathan. That I’m some kind of opportunist.”
Victoria’s mask of civility finally slipped completely. “Because that’s exactly what you are!” she screamed, her voice echoing through the suddenly silent room. “You’re a nobody from nowhere who saw an opportunity and took it! You think I don’t see through your innocent little act? You’re nothing but a common gold digger who got lucky!”
The slap came so fast I didn’t see it coming. Her palm connected with my cheek with a sound that seemed to silence the entire mansion. Two hundred people gasped in unison. I stood there, my face burning, tears welling in my eyes.
That’s when I heard his voice, cold and deadly quiet, cutting through the st/unned silence like a blade. “Victoria. What the hell have you done?”
Nathan stood in the doorway, his face a mask of controlled fury I had never seen before. He wasn’t just angry; he was dangerous. The powerful men who’d been laughing with him moments before now took unconscious steps back. He walked toward us, his steps slow and deliberate, the crowd parting before him like the Red Sea.
“I asked you a question, Victoria,” he said, his voice barely a whisper but carrying to every corner of the room. “What did you just do to my wife?”
Victoria’s bravado crumbled. “Nathan, she… she was being disrespectful.”
“She was telling the truth,” Nathan interrupted, his eyes finally moving to my tear-stained face. The rage in his expression softened, replaced by a profound pain. He gently touched my cheek where Victoria’s hand had left its mark. When he turned back to the room, his expression was terrifying.
“Lad/ies and gentlemen,” he said, his voice carrying the authority of a king. “I think it’s time you all learned the truth about my wife.” What he said next changed everything. The words hit me with the force of a physical blow, and I had to grab a nearby chair to keep from falling.
“My wife, Alana, is not the simple librarian you all think she is,” Nathan announced. “She is the sole heir to the Morrison fortune, one of the oldest and wealthiest families in America. Her trust fund alone is worth more than most of your net worths combined.”
A wave of sh0cked murmurs rippled through the room. Victoria looked as if she’d seen a ghost.
“Three years ago, when I met her,” Nathan continued, “she had no idea. Her adoptive parents never told her the truth about her birth family, wanting her to have a normal life. When I married Alana, my investigators uncovered the truth. I have spent three years letting her believe she was just a librarian, because she was happy that way. Because she didn’t need to know she was wealthier than every single person in this room.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I have watched my sister, and many of you, treat my wife like she was beneath you. The truth is, she could buy and sell half the people in this room without even touching her principal.”
His voice grew harder. “But here’s what makes this even more perfect. Victoria, you’ve spent three years convinced my wife was after our family’s money. But the truth is, she has been supporting half the charities in this city through anonymous donations that I have been managing for her.” He pulled out his phone. “The new wing at the Children’s Hospital? That was Alana’s money. The scholarship fund for underprivileged students? Alana’s money. The homeless shelter that serves three thousand meals a month? Also Alana’s money.”
Victoria’s face went from pale to a sickly green. “That’s… not possible,” she stammered.
“She has more money than you will ever see in your lifetime,” Nathan said coldly. “And unlike you, Victoria, she has never needed to marry for financial security. She married me because she loves me. Can you say the same about any of your three husbands?”
The takedown was spectacular. The party ended quickly, guests scrambling to leave, but not before stopping to offer me desperate, fawning apologies. Victoria tried to approach me, tears streaming down her face, but Nathan stepped between us. “You are not welcome in our home anymore,” he told her quietly. “You had three years to treat my wife with respect. You chose cruelty. I will not give you another chance to hurt her.”
After the last guest had fled, Nathan and I sat in our living room, the silence of the vast mansion pressing in on us. I stared at this man I’d been married to for three years, a man who had kept a secret of this magnitude.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I finally asked.
He took my hands. “Because you were happy,” he said simply. “You were the first person I’d ever met who loved me for who I was, not for what I could give them. I found out about your inheritance, and I realized you were also the first person who could love me without needing anything from me. I didn’t want to change that. I didn’t want to take away the freedom you had to just be yourself.”
He had given me something more valuable than any fortune. He had given me three years of a real life.
“I love you,” I whispered, and for the first time, I said it feeling like his equal in every sense of the word. Victoria learned that actions have consequences; she was cut off from the family business and ostracized from the very society she held so dear. But the most important thing I learned that night was that real love isn’t about what someone can give you. It’s about protecting each other—even when one person doesn’t know they need protection.