Crystal Vale stood in the corner of her husband's living room and watched the world forget she existed.
The party roared around her crystal chandeliers, flowing champagne, guests draped in designer labels. The Vale mansion sprawled behind her like a small kingdom: forty rooms, a private theater, art worth more than most countries.
And at the center sat Ethan Vale.
Her husband.
The man who hadn't looked at her once in their one year of marriage.
He was devastating handsome. Blond hair, jaw carved from marble, blue eyes like arctic ice. This man could give Apollo a run for his money. Then again Ethan was a freaking billionaire.
Every woman wanted him. Every man wanted to be him.
Crystal held a tray of appetizers because the catering staff was short-handed and because standing still with a purpose hurt less than standing still with nothing.
No one looked at her.
No one ever did.
Her glasses sat heavy on her nose thick frames, intentionally ugly. Her hair hung in a plain ponytail. The loose dress hid every curve, every inch of the woman beneath.
Because here was the secret no one knew: beneath the glasses, beneath the frump, Crystal was drop dead gorgeous.
Full lips. High cheekbones. Skin like cream. Curves that could make a man run wild. Eyes that could stop traffic.
She had learned young that beauty was a curse. It attracted envy. Invited betrayal. So she buried it. Became invisible.
Now she was married to a man who had no idea what his wife actually looked like.
"Still daydreaming?"
Savannah Vale materialized before her, champagne flute in hand, smile sharp as glass. Ethan's sister. Her tormentor.
"I was just..."
"Bringing food to guests?" Savannah's eyes dragged over Crystal's outfit. "How appropriate. At least you've found something useful to do."
Guests chuckled. Crystal's cheeks burned, but she kept her face still. Showing pain only made them bite harder.
Savannah stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You know what you are? A receipt. A transaction. My brother married you because Grandmother held his inheritance hostage."
Crystal's fingers tightened on the tray.
"Do you really think he sees you?" Savannah smiled sweetly. "You're invisible. And when Grandmother dies—" she paused "—you'll disappear completely."
She walked away.
Crystal's eyes drifted to Ethan. He sat across the room, a beautiful woman beside him.
He hadn't seen any of it.
Or if he had, he didn't care.
Later that night
Crystal sat on the edge of his bed and stared at her reflection.
Slowly, she removed her glasses.
The woman in the window was a stranger. High cheekbones. Full lips. Eyes that held secrets. Devastatingly beautiful.
She had hidden it so long she forgot it existed.
Her hand touched the small necklace at her throat simple, silver, old. The only thing from before the orphanage. She never took it off.
The door opened.
Ethan walked in, loosening his tie. He stopped when he saw her sitting there—just a silhouette in the dark, face half-turned away. For a moment, his eyes flickered over her shape.
Then she turned, and he saw the glasses back on, the plainness returned, and his gaze went flat.
"What are you doing in my room?."
"I waited for you."
"Don't."
One word. Sharp. Final.
The bathroom door closed. The lock clicked.
Crystal sat alone in the darkness, listening to the shower run, and felt something inside her crack.
She had fallen in love with him anyway. Quietly. Stupidly. Hoping one day he might see her.
But he never did.
Her fingers touched the necklace.
How much longer can you do this?
The question hung in the air.
No answer came.
