Before Death Do Us Part

Prologue

The chandelier above me glittered like frozen constellations, bathing the ballroom in gold.

Everyone sparkled tonight — women in shimmering gowns, men in tailored suits, the perfect illusion of Manila’s elite. Their soft bickering echoes their lavish lifestyle, unbothered, living on their bubbles of riches.

And me? I was their centerpiece. “Mrs. Hale, this way please!” a photographer called out.

I smiled automatically — chin slightly tilted, posture flawless, eyes soft. Every angle rehearsed. Every movement calculated. That’s what being Lucian Hale’s wife meant — to be graceful, composed, adored. The way the photographer looked at me and on his camera before looking at me again tells me that he wasn’t quiet convince with the way he took my picture.

“These photos could never justify your beauty, Mrs. Hale!” I gave him a soft smile and pressed my lips together, brushing my hair off my shoulder, revealing the skin on my collarbone, camera flashes more. I am wearing a red shimmering mermaid dress with a sweetheart neckline, its slit reaching my thighs, paired with soft glam make-up, a red designer stiletto, my hair styled in big curls.

The camera flashed again, and I wondered how long I could keep pretending that the light didn’t burn my face.

Lucian, from a group of businessmen, joined me with a glass of champagne, the kind that cost more than some people’s rent.

“You look stunning tonight, love,” he said, kissing my cheek just long enough for people to see. For cameras to flash more. His touch was warm, but his eyes were somewhere else — or maybe with someone else.

“I always do,” I answered sweetly, and he smiled — proud, as if my beauty belonged to him. Something he always reminds everyone.

We walked together through the sea of glitter and chatter. Every socialite we passed offered compliments and envy disguised as admiration.

“Mrs. Hale, your gown is divine!”

“Lucian, you’ve outdone yourself again!”

And every time, we performed our parts — the perfect couple, the golden pair. But behind my smile, I felt the weight of every lie holding this perfection together. The more I try to brush everything off, the more my stomach starts to feel hollow.

When I reached for his hand, he didn’t notice. He reached for his phone, which buzzed, and he excused himself with a quick kiss to my temple. “Business call. You understand.”

Of course, I understood. I always did. He quickly strides, walking away through the sea of people. Left alone, I wandered toward the art display near the back of the ballroom — one of the charity’s showpieces. A painting caught my attention — a woman in white, standing before a burning city. Her expression was serene, almost peaceful, as if she’d accepted her fate.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a deep voice murmured beside me.

I turned and found him — the man I’d noticed earlier. Broad shoulders, composed demeanor, a presence that didn’t need to announce itself.

“Mr. Dreven,” I said softly. I recognized the name from Lucian’s business meetings — Azrael Dreven, CEO of Dreven Holdings. Quiet, powerful, and dangerous, according to the papers.

“You know me,” he said, almost amused.

“Everyone in this room does,” I replied. Trying to catch a glimpse of him on the side of my eye. He was standing not close but not far from me. Even with a four-inch stiletto, my height was only at his shoulder level. He has this sharp jaw line, almost perfect as it compliments his narrow and tall nose, his eyebrows thick and shaped to life, and how his clean cut fits his God-given-structured face and a deep pair of hooded eyes.

He studied the painting. “Strange choice for a charity gala — a woman surrounded by fire.”

“Maybe it’s symbolic,” I said. “How beauty survives destruction.”

His dark eyes shifted to me. “Or how destruction wears beauty as a mask.”

For a second, I forgot how to breathe. The ballroom noise faded — the laughter, the music, the endless chattering — all gone, as if the world had paused.

“Not all love is loyalty, Mrs. Hale,” he added quietly. “Remember that.”

I blinked, startled. “Excuse me?”

But he was already gone, swallowed by the crowd before I could ask what he meant.

Later that night, after the gala, I found myself on the balcony overlooking the city. The air was thick with Manila humidity and perfume. The skyline shimmered — a thousand lights flickering like stars that refused to die.

Inside, Lucian was still talking to his business partners and potential ones. I heard his laughter drift through the open doors — charming, practiced, the sound that once made me feel like the luckiest woman alive.

Now it just made me feel… empty. The faint echo of a woman’s laugh followed his. Softer. Familiar. Selene.

My heart stuttered. My younger sister — she’d arrived late, dressed in something daring, confident, radiant. Everyone adored her. Especially Lucian. I pushed away the thought. It was ridiculous. They were just close. She admired him. He saw her as family. That’s all.

Still, I stayed outside. Watching the city lights felt safer than watching my husband give warm to others while I burn here in cold.

“Darling,” Lucian’s voice came from behind me minutes later. He wrapped an arm around my waist. “There you are. Everyone’s asking about you.”

“I needed air,” I murmured.

He chuckled. “Always so dramatic. Come on, the senator’s wife wants a photo with us.”

I turned to follow him — but out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Azrael again. Standing near the exit, hands in his pockets, looking right at me.

Not smiling. Not curious. Just… knowing.

As if he’d already seen the cracks forming in my perfect golden world. His eyes always hiding so many emotions.

When the night finally ended, Lucian and I sat in the back of the car in silence. He scrolled through his phone, the screen light painting his face cold.

“Did you have fun?” I asked softly.

“Of course. It was a success.”

I looked out the window. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He sighed. “Sera, must we do this tonight? You know I’m tired.”

I nodded, smiling faintly. “Of course.”

I stared at our reflections in the tinted glass — the perfect couple everyone wanted to be. But in that reflection, I looked like a stranger beside him.

And for the first time, I felt something shift inside me. A whisper, quiet but certain. Something was ending.

And I didn’t even know it had already begun.