Episode 1

In the bustling, aged heart of Orkset, flames roared through an old apartment building. Driven by fierce winds, the fire consumed the structure, billowing dense smoke and fiery embers into the air.

“They’ve been rescued! They’re safe!” The words cut through the chaos.

Firefighters emerged from the burning wreckage, carrying Elizabeth to the roadside. Her usually elegant face was smeared with soot; her luminous eyes dulled to a vacant stare.

As consciousness returned, an overwhelming surge of gratitude washed over her, momentarily eclipsing her composure. Her voice, raspy and weak, murmured a heartfelt “thank you” to her rescuers.

Trembling, she reached for her phone, her fingers fumbling as she dialed a familiar number.

“Hello, the person you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try again later…”

The automated message played after several rings, a tightening in her chest signaling the rising frustration and sorrow.

Boom!

A thunderous explosion shattered the silence, cutting off the recorded message. Elizabeth’s head snapped up, disbelief etched on her face as she watched her former apartment building erupt in a fiery inferno. Debris rained down, flung skyward by the force of the blast.

Panic seized the crowd as the newly rescued screamed, clinging to each other for comfort. Their cries pierced the din of sirens and shouting. In contrast, Elizabeth lay alone on a stretcher, her solitude stark against the collective despair.

“Elijah…” Fighting back the rising dread, she clenched her jaw and redialed her husband’s number, her resolve unwavering. But the call disconnected after a few rings, leaving her in oppressive silence.

A Twitter notification illuminated her screen. The gossip mill was churning, buzzing with the trending topic: #SandraNash #MysteriousPartner. A prominent producer had invited Sandra Nash to dinner; the evening soured when Sandra refused a toast. Her commanding boyfriend had stormed in, dismissing the producer before sweeping Sandra away. The accompanying photos only showed the man’s back, preserving his anonymity. Sandra, in an oversized suit jacket, smiled radiantly, her hand clasped in his as they left.

Elizabeth’s gaze fixed on the screen. It was unmistakable—Elijah. The tailored suit jacket was all too familiar; every item of Elijah’s clothing came from a renowned overseas designer—a detail Elizabeth knew intimately.

Her fingers tightened around her phone, her knuckles white, the pain searing and relentless. In her darkest hour, Elijah had ignored her calls, choosing to be with Sandra. What had their two years of marriage meant?

Tears she had fought to hold back streamed down her cheeks, unrelenting even as she tilted her head back in a futile attempt to stop them.