My daughter was severely allergic to shellfish. Ever since she was a baby, I had meticulously managed every single thing that went into her mouth. Before I left for my trip, I pleaded with my husband, Greg, reminding him a dozen times never to let our daughter eat seafood. He brushed me off with a careless, “I got it, Meredith.” But the moment I touched down, I was met with a nightmare. My three-year-old daughter, Lucy, had suffered anaphylactic shock and suffocated after eating a seafood-infused egg dish. As the doctors failed to revive her and declared her dead, Greg was standing on the glittering stage of the Magnolia Gala, presenting the Best Supporting Actress trophy to his ultimate muse, Scarlett. Holding the microphone, he looked at her with an adoration he had never shown me. “You will always be the brightest star in my sky, Scarlett. The lead role in my films will always belong to you.” When the news broke, my parents collapsed from grief. But I didn’t shed another tear. I wiped my face, letting a cold, hollow laugh slip past my lips. “A fraudulent starlet and a hack director. I hope they rot in each other’s arms forever.” … 1 The red light of the ICU flickered, then went dark. The heavy double doors swung open, and a doctor pushed out a gurney carrying a cold, silent body. Looking down at Lucy’s pale, lifeless face—her sweet little features frozen in a permanent sleep—my hands shook violently as I pulled the white sheet over her head. My knees gave out. I collapsed onto the sterile hospital floor, my chest so tight with agony that I couldn’t even draw enough breath to scream. On the hallway television mounted above the waiting area, the Magnolia Gala was broadcasting live. There was Greg, smiling warmly, gallantly holding up the train of Scarlett’s designer gown as she glided up the stairs. We had been married for seven years. Every single time Scarlett was nominated for an award, Greg made sure he was the one presenting it to her. Even when I used to beg him to stay home, fabricating every excuse I could think of just to keep him by my side, it never mattered. He always chose her. And of course, tonight was no exception. But with Lucy gone, something inside me died too. Whatever he did next, wherever he went, I no longer cared. My parents fainted from the sheer shock of it, leaving me to handle the arrangements entirely on my own. For three days, I dragged my numb body between the hospital and the funeral home. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lucy’s angelic smile, her soft laughter echoing in my mind. By the time I finally returned home, it was the third afternoon. The moment I pushed the front door open, I was blinded by the flash of camera lenses. A crowd of reporters was crammed into our living room. Scarlett sat on our velvet sofa, her arm casually slipped through Greg’s. They were laughing and whispering, looking every bit the picture-perfect, adoring couple. When Greg noticed me, a flicker of awkwardness crossed his face. But as he took in my sunken eyes and disheveled, exhausted state, his expression quickly hardened into a scowl. “Meredith,” he snapped, his voice dripping with authority. “Look at yourself. You look like a mess. Go upstairs right now.” The disgust in his tone was bare and humiliating, as if my very presence was an embarrassment to him. Scarlett, sensing the cameras, softly called an end to the interview. She smoothed down her haute couture gown and walked toward me with a sweet, patronizing smile. “Meredith, I’m so sorry to barge in like this,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “I’m flying to Paris tomorrow for the red carpet, and Greg was sweet enough to let the press do a quick home shoot here before I go.” She tilted her head, assessing my face. “But look at you. Your skin is so dull, and those crow’s feet are really showing. If the paparazzi catch you looking like this, it’ll look terrible for Greg. Why don’t you go get some rest?” She spoke with the easy confidence of the lady of the house, successfully relegating me to the status of an unwelcome guest. My gaze fell to the trophy in her manicured hand—a Magnolia Award for Best Supporting Actress. For a cheap, meaningless award, Greg had left our three-year-old daughter home alone. I had called him dozens of times, sobbing into the receiver, only to be met with an automated voicemail telling me his phone was turned off. Because of Scarlett, Lucy never got to see her father one last time. I remembered her tiny, bruised lips parting as she wept in the hospital bed, asking me over and over, “Is Daddy here yet?” And I had lied to her, telling her Daddy was on his way, praying desperately that death would spare my baby girl. But he never came. A wave of profound nausea hit me. Looking at the two of them made me physically sick. A couple of cheap, parasitic industry players. Let them lock themselves away in their own filth. I didn’t turn to go upstairs. Instead, I stood my ground, my voice flat and icy. “Greg, I want a divorce.” 2 I was entirely done with him. Ten years together, seven years of marriage—every sweet memory, every promise we had made—had disintegrated into ash the moment Lucy died. But Greg didn’t take me seriously. He assumed I was just throwing another jealous tantrum over Scarlett. “Meredith, there are reporters here,” he hissed, lowering his voice. “You used to be an actress too. Can’t you learn a little grace and poise from Scarlett?” “I invited her here for a quick press feature as a favor. Is it really necessary for you to be this petty?” “Petty.” To Greg, I was always the petty, dramatic wife who couldn’t handle herself. Whenever Scarlett was involved, I lost my mind. But he never bothered to ask why. Why was I like this? Because on our wedding day, a single phone call from Scarlett had lured him away, leaving me to face a room full of whispering guests alone. Because he kept a secret archive of photos from every movie Scarlett had ever made, publicly calling her his “creative muse.” Because Scarlett was the girl he had loved first, the gold standard he measured everyone else against. No matter how loving and supportive I was, no matter that I had given him a child, sacrificed my own career to cook his meals, and kept the porch light burning for him every night—there was a corner of his heart that always belonged to her. It was a space I could never conquer. And now, I was done trying. I looked at Greg’s rising anger and said coldly, “I’m serious. I want a divorce. I don’t want to look at you for another second.” Without waiting for his response, I turned and walked upstairs. Perhaps because my coldness was so out of character compared to the doting, compliant wife he was used to, Greg actually followed me up. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about the shoot beforehand,” he said, trying to soften his tone. “I won’t do it again.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tell you what—doesn’t Lucy want to go to Disneyland? Once this press cycle wraps up, I’ll take both of you. How does that sound?” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. The man I had shared a bed with for seven years felt like an utter stranger. It was almost time for our daughter’s seven-day memorial. If he had called her preschool even once, or stepped foot in this house over the last three days, he would have known. But he hadn’t. His mind had been entirely occupied by his golden girl. I cast a freezing look at him. “Go spend time with your muse. Don’t waste your energy on us.” I reached out to shut the bedroom door. Greg froze. He knew how deeply I loved him. In all our years of marriage, I had never looked at him with such utter disdain. He stepped forward, wanting to push the door open to demand an explanation. But right then, Scarlett’s voice drifted up from the foyer. “Greg, babe? I think I might be overstaying my welcome. I’ll head out. Next time, I’ll just take Lucy to that seafood spot she loves so much.” Instantly, the blood in my veins turned to liquid fire. I threw the door open, flew down the stairs, snatched a heavy ceramic vase off the entryway table, and smashed it directly into Scarlett’s smiling face. 3 Scarlett screamed, clutching her bleeding forehead as she collapsed onto the hardwood floor. My eyes were wild with rage. Just as I raised my hands to strike her again, Greg threw his arms around me from behind, pinning me back. “Meredith! Have you lost your goddamn mind?!” he roared. I didn’t even look at him. My whole body shook as I stared down at Scarlett. “You took Lucy to a seafood restaurant?” I demanded, my voice cracking. Scarlett looked up at me, tears streaming down her face, playing the perfect victim. “Meredith, I was just trying to build a relationship with her. Greg told me she loved seafood, so I took her. I didn’t mean any harm!” I whipped my head around to face Greg. “You knew about this?” He grimaced, waving a hand dismissively. “It was just a dinner. Are you seriously going to ruin a friendship over a petty fit of jealousy?” The world seemed to fracture around me. “A petty fit of jealousy.” I had gone to London to attend a dear friend’s funeral. Before I stepped foot out the door, I had looked him in the eye and begged him, reminding him that Lucy had a deadly allergy to shellfish. Greg had nodded and promised, his tone lazy and distracted. At the time, I convinced myself that even if he didn’t care about me, Lucy was his own flesh and blood. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. It was only three days. I wanted them to have some father-daughter bonding time since he was always so absent. But still, I hadn’t been fully at ease. I had written a bright neon reminder on a sticky note and slapped it right onto the refrigerator door. Driven by a sudden, frantic panic, I violently broke free from Greg’s grip and ran into the kitchen. The sink was piled high with dirty takeout containers and dusty dishes. The cutting board on the counter was covered in a thin layer of grime. It was obvious the kitchen hadn’t been used since the day I left. And on the refrigerator door, the neon sticky note was completely gone. My mind went entirely blank. I clutched my head and sank to the floor. Greg marched into the kitchen, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me up so hard I nearly tripped. “Meredith, what is wrong with you? You assault Scarlett and then just walk away?” Scarlett limped in behind him, whimpering loudly. “Greg, my head is throbbing. I have to walk a red carpet tomorrow! How am I supposed to go out looking like this?” Greg’s fury boiled over. His grip on my upper arm tightened until I felt my bones groan under the pressure. “You are going to apologize to Scarlett right now, or so help me God, you will regret it!” I looked at him, my expression going entirely blank, a cold smile touching my lips. “I have nothing to apologize for. She does.” Greg’s face darkened dangerously. “Meredith, do not test my patience.” In his mind, Greg had forgotten who I actually was. I was a woman of fierce pride and stubborn resolve. When I first started in the industry, I fought tooth and nail for every role, and when I chose to retire for love, I did it without a single backward glance. I had loved him fiercely, unconditionally. We had both climbed up from the bottom of the industry, sharing the laughter, the tears, and the exhausting grind. But by the time I hit thirty, the daily routine of serving him, of keeping his house, had slowly eroded my sense of self. I had shrunk myself to fit into his shadow, making compromises just to keep him happy. I had sacrificed so much that I lost who I was, and he had learned to take it all for granted. But that woman was dead now. I stared directly into Greg’s eyes, silent and unyielding. His jaw clenched. Seeing the stand-off, Scarlett stepped in, wrapping her arms around his waist and sobbing dramatically. “Greg, I have never been so insulted in my life! If you’re just going to let her treat me like this, then we are done. I never want to see you again!” Greg looked at her tears, then turned back to me. A dark, dangerous storm brewed in his eyes. “Meredith, I am giving you one last chance. Apologize to Scarlett.” His voice was a low, freezing threat. I looked at this man. The man I had loved for ten years, the man I had given my youth and my soul to. Tears finally blurred my vision. I began to laugh, a broken, hysterical sound. “Greg, marrying you is the single greatest regret of my entire life.” My refusal to submit pushed him over the edge. With Scarlett’s weeping ringing in his ears, Greg lost his mind. He grabbed me by the throat, pinning me against the wall, and delivered two hard, stinging slaps across my face. He didn’t hold back. My head spun instantly. A loud, high-pitched ringing filled my ears, drowning out all sound. He grabbed me by the hair, forcing my face toward the vanity mirror in the hallway. My cheeks were already swelling, bright red handprints blooming against my pale skin. A thin trickle of blood dripped from the corner of my mouth. I looked absolutely broken. Greg’s voice hissed in my ear like a poisonous snake. “Look at yourself, Meredith. Look at how ugly and malicious you’ve become. Striking Scarlett… this is exactly what you deserve.” “Apologize! Or I swear to God, you will no longer be my wife!” 4 “You think I care about that?” The words left my mouth before I could stop them. Greg sneered, looking down at me with utter contempt. “Meredith, please. I know you. You can try this reverse psychology once or twice, but it gets old.” “You don’t have a job. If you divorce me, you’ll end up on the street. And don’t forget, I will easily take custody of Lucy. Don’t come crawling back to me crying when you lose her.” A terrible, hollow laugh bubbled up in my chest. Our daughter was already a pile of ashes in a columbarium. And he was still using her to threaten me. It was tragically pathetic. Years ago, when he wanted to focus on directing his breakout film and couldn’t handle domestic life, I had discovered I was pregnant. I chose to step away from my rising acting career to support his dreams, ensuring his path to fame was clear. And yet, the devotion I had poured into our life had turned into the very hand that slapped me across the face. But the pain had finally woken me up. I would pay whatever price I had to for my past stupidity. Even if I had to tear my own skin off, I was leaving him. I looked at him, my voice completely flat. “Let’s divorce, Greg. Take whatever you want. I’ll leave with nothing.” Greg still thought I was playing games. He let out a dry laugh. “Oh, really? So you’re just going to abandon the daughter you supposedly cherish? Look at you. You don’t even look like a mother right now.” Scarlett immediately clung tighter to his arm, chiming in. “Greg, some women just aren’t built to be mothers. Meredith is clearly unstable. Why don’t we let Lucy come live with us for a while? We had such a wonderful time at dinner. I absolutely adore her.” My vision went red. “Shut up, you bitch! Don’t you dare speak her name!” I lunged forward, clawing at Scarlett’s hair. Greg instantly threw his body in front of her, looking at me with deep, disgusted disappointment. “Scarlett is right. In the state you’re in, you are completely unfit to raise our daughter.” Just then, the front door burst open. Greg’s assistant ran in, breathless and trembling, his face white as a sheet. “Greg… we have a major problem…” Greg frowned, raising a hand to cut him off. “Get my divorce lawyer on the phone. Tell him to prep the papers. Get the best one in the city; money is no object.” “And another thing—go to the preschool and pick up Lucy. Take her to my mother’s place for the night.” Greg looked down at me, his eyes mocking, waiting to see the terror and regret paint itself across my face. But I only stared back at him in dead silence. The assistant looked between us, swallowed hard, and spoke in a cracking, terrified whisper. “Greg… Lucy passed away from an allergic reaction. It happened the night of the Magnolia Awards. I just got the official confirmation from the hospital…”
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