Category: English

Three days before my wedding, a car swerved and turned my spine into a shattered ruin. My fiancée, Victoria, made a great show of ensuring the driver was sent to prison. I lay in a hospital bed, a ghost trapped in a broken body, refusing to wake up to the nightmare of my new reality. In that hazy twilight of consciousness, I heard Victoria speaking with my doctor. “Ms. Hayes, if we operate now, we can still save him. A few more days, and Mr. Crawford will be paralyzed for life! You just want Avery as your groom—is it really worth condemning a man to this?” the doctor pleaded, his voice low and urgent. Victoria’s reply was ice. “Paralyzed is paralyzed. I’ll take care of him for the rest of his life. If he recovers, he’ll destroy the wedding.” Her voice dropped even lower, a conspiratorial whisper. “I promised Avery I would welcome our child into the Hayes family with all the dignity he deserves. Only when Ethan is completely broken will he love my child as his own. A cripple is manageable. At least he won’t be able to hurt my son.” In a corner no one was watching, a single tear traced a path from the corner of my eye, disappearing into the pillow. So, this was the truth. The wedding I had anticipated for so long was nothing but an elaborate lie. The love I believed was my salvation was actually my death warrant. Fine. If this is what she wanted, I would play my part. 1 “No more questions. Stick to the plan,” Victoria commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. “The vasectomy needs to be clean. I don’t want him finding out.” “Once he’s awake, I’ll take him to the children’s home to pick up our son. When he knows he can never have children of his own, he will cherish Rosie with all his heart.” The doctor wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, his face etched with pity. “Ms. Hayes, please, reconsider. The man is already a paraplegic. This surgery… it’s not just his body you’re mutilating, it’s his spirit. How will he ever hold his head up in front of your family? For God’s sake, he’s a man…” “Besides,” the doctor added, his voice dropping, “your son with Mr. Quinn is three years old now. The boy is the spitting image of you. If Ethan ever finds out, everything will be ruined!” Victoria ignored his plea. She reached over, her movements practiced and steady, and gently wiped my chapped lips with a damp cloth. Her voice was filled with a strange, sorrowful affection. “He won’t find out. Once he’s a cripple, he’ll be confined to the Hayes estate for the rest of his life. He’ll never take a step outside those walls.” Her voice hardened again. “I promised Avery I would give him a magnificent wedding. I promised I would watch our child grow up. Even if he’s married to someone else now, I will never let him face any hardship alone.” The doctor let out a long, defeated sigh, his gaze falling on my pale, still face. “Ethan is a good man. You two grew up together… and yet you’re still chasing that… never mind. It’s your choice. Do as you wish.” “Prepare for surgery,” she ordered. “And remember: be discreet. I don’t want any scars. Do it before Ethan wakes up. I don’t want him to feel too much pain.” The doctor hurried out of the room. Victoria pulled out her phone and sent a voice message to her assistant. “The driver didn’t talk, did he? Pay his family the two million, as we agreed. Help them move out of the state. Make sure Ethan never finds them.” Tears streamed uncontrollably from my eyes, soaking the pillow beneath my head. All the while, Victoria continued to gently sponge my body with warm water, yet a profound, bone-deep chill spread through me. So, the wedding I had dreamed of for five years was just a stepping stone for Avery. The car crash was no accident. It was just her, clearing an obstacle for her true love. The happiness I thought was mine was a mirage, a beautiful, fragile bubble. The truth of our relationship was built on a foundation of lies and brutal betrayal. I fought to open my eyes, to scream, to rage. But a sharp prick in my arm was followed by a spreading numbness. Anesthesia. Just before they wheeled me into the operating room, Victoria leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to my lips. “Shh, my love. It will be over soon,” she whispered. “I’ll be waiting for you, Ethan.” The cold, metallic instruments twisted inside me, and my shattered heart turned to ice. When I next opened my eyes, I was back in the private room. Below my waist, there was nothing. No feeling, no sensation. Just a dead weight that used to be my body. Victoria was at my bedside, her face a perfect mask of worry. The moment I stirred, she took my hand, pressing it to her cheek. “Ethan? You’re awake! Are you in pain? Does anything hurt?” she asked, her voice filled with concern. “Tell me, and I’ll have them change your medication.” The same adoring expression she had always worn, but now, her eyes were cold, empty voids. It was astonishing, the lengths one person would go to for another. I shook my head weakly, my hand reaching up to touch her face. “You haven’t slept, have you? I’m okay. You should rest.” She didn’t question it. Seemingly relieved, she relaxed her guard and soon drifted off to sleep in the chair beside me. I reached for her phone on the nightstand. It unlocked with a familiar swipe. The wallpaper was one of our pre-wedding photos, a picture of two people madly in love. Her messaging app was still open. The pinned contact was simply named “Avery.” I tapped on it. The chat log was filled with cute cat emojis and dozens of photos of Avery holding a small child. “Rosie was calling for Mommy again today. She’s so little but already knows her mom is beautiful. She’s going to be a heartbreaker.” “Rosie had a great appetite today. She ate the whole cake you sent, all by herself.” “Rosie wants to go to the amusement park with her mom. She won’t listen to me. Can you find some time to come over?” Victoria hadn’t replied in text. But beneath each photo was a log of a two-hour video call. I remembered her telling me once that she didn’t like children. I finally understood. It wasn’t that she didn’t like children. She just didn’t want a child with me. She had a private photo album dedicated to Avery. The password was the child’s birthday. Five thousand photos chronicled three years of a little boy’s life. For every major holiday, every milestone, Victoria was there, by their side. The second chat was with the wedding planning company. From the very beginning, a month ago, the groom’s name on all the documents was Avery Quinn. The tuxedo was tailored to his measurements. The invitations were penned in their joint handwriting. From the start, she never intended for me to be at my own wedding. A bitter, self-mocking smile twisted my lips. I didn’t need to see any more. I used her phone to contact my best friend, Mark, and told him to find me a hospital abroad, one that could perform a restorative surgery. I also had him begin the process of erasing my identity in this country. Mark didn’t ask too many questions. He just assumed I had finally seen Victoria for the monster she was, his messages filled with relief and support for me. I put the phone down and let sleep claim me. I was awakened by the sound of Victoria’s heartbroken sobs. She was clutching a hospital report, her shoulders shaking. “Ethan… the doctors… they found something during the tests,” she choked out. “It’s a congenital condition. You… you can’t have children.” “But don’t worry,” she rushed to add, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I don’t care. I’ll never leave you. No matter what, you will always be my husband.” “When you’re out of the hospital, we can adopt a child, okay? Having a child around will help you heal. You’ll get better, I promise.” I was the one who had supposedly lost the ability to have children, but she looked more devastated than I did. Her performance was flawless. I was too tired to call her on it. After a long silence, I looked at the falsified report in her hand and gave a slow, deliberate nod. Tears of gratitude streamed down her face as she pulled me into a tight embrace. “I will take care of you, Ethan. Don’t be afraid. No matter what anyone says, I will always be on your side. After we’re married, I’ll transfer all my assets to your name. As a guarantee.” Our chests were pressed together, but our hearts beat to entirely different rhythms. After a moment, she pulled back, her expression hesitant. “It’s just… the wedding is all set. With your body still recovering, perhaps we should…” “Find someone to stand in for me,” I finished for her. “We can’t lose face for the Hayes family.” I knew what she wanted. Better to offer it myself than to be maneuvered into it. At least this way, I could retain a shred of dignity. Victoria was stunned by my easy compliance, but with her goal achieved, she didn’t press the matter. Her phone buzzed with a notification. She glanced at it, and her brow furrowed. “Ethan, what’s this about canceling your official documents?” I quickly swiped the notification away. “It’s nothing,” I said smoothly. “Just an old ID that expired. It’s all done online.” She accepted the explanation without another thought, pulling me into an even tighter hug, her voice thick with pity. “You’re not well. Anything you need, just tell me. I’ll handle it for you.” “Victoria,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “I want to go home.” A flash of panic crossed her face. “No. You’re not recovered. I can’t allow it.” I gently caressed her cheek, a faint smile playing on my lips. “Didn’t you say you wanted to take me to adopt a child? We have nurses at home. Nothing will happen. I just… I want to see the children’s home. Please?” In five years together, it was the first time I had ever shown her such vulnerability. She couldn’t resist. She softened and agreed. On the way, she pulled out a selection of cakes she had waiting in the car, laying them out for me. She said she’d bought them especially for me. But the label, clearly marked ‘Safe for Toddlers,’ was another small, sharp sting. I closed the bag and tossed it into the back seat, feigning fatigue and closing my eyes. This five-year charade was about to end. We had just entered the children’s home, me in my wheelchair, when a little girl ran up and hugged Victoria’s leg, chanting “Mommy, Mommy!” over and over. Victoria’s face paled. Fearing my suspicion, she explained hurriedly, “Don’t misunderstand. I’m a patron of this home. I’ve visited a few times, and this little girl is an orphan. She calls me that.” I nodded, smiling as I reached out to pat the child’s head. “She looks a lot like you. If you hadn’t told me, I would have thought she was yours.” “What’s her name?” “Rosie. She’s the one I was planning to adopt.” Before she could say more, Rosie started crying, wailing for her “Daddy.” Victoria’s face went white. She shot a nervous glance at me. “It’s fine,” I said, my voice calm. “Go comfort her. She’s a beautiful child. I like her too.” My words were a balm to her panic. She relaxed, scooped the child into her arms, and disappeared into an office. I made an excuse about needing the restroom and wheeled myself away. But as I neared the hallway, I could hear the staff gossiping. “Why is Ms. Hayes making her own kid pretend to be an orphan? That outfit is designer, worth more than my life. Who’d believe she’s an orphan?” “You don’t get it. This is her plan to get the kid into the family legitimately. Just play along and don’t slip up in front of Mr. Crawford.” “Figures. Her heart always belonged to Mr. Quinn. They used to volunteer here together back in college. I knew it then. A man and a woman, alone in that office… wonder what they’re up to right now…” Their suggestive laughter was a physical weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I moved my wheelchair to the office door. I could hear familiar voices from within. “Is she good to you?” It was Avery. “She’s fine,” another voice replied, a woman’s. “She’s in another country most of the time, so she can’t take care of everything. Which is good. She won’t find out about Rosie. She’s even talking about having a baby with me.” Victoria’s voice, laced with a bitter amusement. “Once Rosie is officially a Hayes, you won’t have to worry. Just message me if you need anything. Oh, and here. I bought you this watch. A wedding gift.” Avery accepted it with a flirtatious wink. “Another gift? We’ve only been married a year, how many wedding presents is that? My closet is overflowing. Ethan would be upset if he knew.” He said it, but his hands moved quickly to secure the gift. Rosie giggled, throwing her arms around him, calling him “Daddy.” Just then, the director of the home, eager to process the paperwork, rushed toward me and threw open the office door. A flash of pure panic crossed Victoria’s eyes. “Ethan! What are you doing here?” “Don’t get the wrong idea,” she stammered. “Avery is a volunteer here. He just happened to be visiting today, to talk about me adopting Rosie…” Avery stood up, holding Rosie, and gave me a casual wave. “Ethan. Long time no see.” I sat in my wheelchair, forced a smile, and choked back the wave of nausea. “It’s fine. I was just looking around. Since you’re busy, I won’t bother you. I’ll wait in the car.” I turned and left. Victoria, thinking I was angry, chased after me, offering a flurry of explanations. “Don’t misunderstand. He volunteers here all the time. All the kids call him ‘daddy.’ I’ll explain it to Rosie once the adoption is final.” Seeing her so flustered on my account was almost funny. She had orchestrated a car crash to paralyze me, all to bring this child into her home. Now that her wish was granted, who was this pathetic, guilt-ridden act for? “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not that unreasonable. You finish the paperwork. I’ll be good and wait in the car.” She breathed a sigh of relief and watched me go. Every staff member I passed looked at me with an expression of pity and contempt. I ignored them, took out my phone, and finalized the cancellation of my identity. To celebrate bringing Rosie home, the Hayes family held a dinner party. I used my recovery as an excuse to stay upstairs. But the mocking laughter of Victoria’s parents drifted up from below. I wheeled myself to the landing. I could see the three of them—a perfect family—at the dining table. Victoria was lovingly placing Rosie’s favorite foods on her special plate. Avery was teasing her, saying she would spoil the child rotten. Victoria just smiled, stroking the little tiara in Rosie’s hair. “She’s my daughter. She could burn the world down, and it would still be her greatest achievement.” The dam of suppressed grief inside me finally broke. I went back to my room and began tearing apart every gift Victoria had given me over the past five years, throwing the pieces into the trash. As the bin toppled over, Avery suddenly appeared in the doorway. He kicked my wheelchair, sending me sprawling to the floor. Pain shot through me, and I broke out in a cold sweat. He just grinned down at me. “Hurts, doesn’t it, Ethan? Being a broken man.” “All these years, and you’re still as useless as ever.” “Watching your own wedding happen with my name in your place. Watching your wife bring home my son. And you have to just swallow it all. I almost feel sorry for you.” I struggled to pull myself up.

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Four years ago, my mother and father went to the Atacama Desert. My mother, Helen, returned from the expedition not long after, but my father, David, refused to give up. He vanished into the desert, and for four years, we heard nothing. Then, just last week, the official word came from the authorities. My father, missing for four years, was confirmed dead. All that was left of him was a tattered backpack and a diary. The canvas of the pack was stained with blood and matted with hair. A DNA test confirmed our worst fears. It was his. My mother and I held a funeral with an empty casket, burying only the backpack and the diary in a memorial grave in our backyard. But on the third night after the funeral… my dead father came home. He stood there smiling a chilling smile, caked in dirt and dust, without a trace of human warmth, as if he’d just clawed his way out of the earth. “Lily,” he said, his voice a dry rasp. “Did you miss your daddy?” … A shiver traced its way down my spine. I squeezed a single word from my throat. “Yes…” His smile widened. He reached out with a rough, calloused hand and pinched my cheek. The coldness of his touch was alarming, sinking deep into my bones. It wasn’t the temperature of a living person. I was terrified. My father was dead. His last known possessions were buried in the empty grave behind the house. So who—or what—was this thing standing in front of me? In a panic, I called for my mother. She was showering upstairs and yelled down, asking what was wrong. I hesitated, then told her everything in a rush. “Mom, Dad’s home!” “What?!” A minute later, she ran down the stairs, still damp, her robe hastily tied. She looked ready to scold me for talking nonsense, but then she saw him. Standing in our living room. My father smiled his weary, weathered smile and pulled a few rocks from his pocket. “Helen, I’m back. I know it’s been hard on you, running the house and taking care of Lily all these years.” “I brought you these stones from the Atacama. A souvenir.” He tried to press the stones into my mother’s hand, but she flinched away. They fell to the floor with a heavy, dull thud. Mom stared at the rocks on the floor, her expression a mask of horror. Her lips pressed into a thin, white line. I couldn’t tell if she was more afraid of my father, or of the stones themselves. But Dad just kept smiling. It seemed to be the only expression he had left. His idea of romance—bringing home rocks from his adventures—was just as tone-deaf as ever. Nothing had changed. My father was an adventurer at heart. Before they were married, both he and Mom were part of an amateur exploration club. After they married, Dad quit the official club but was still constantly away, forming small expedition teams with other enthusiasts. When I was born, he stayed home a little more, but you couldn’t chain down his free spirit. He went on his trips all the same. In my memory, the only one who was ever trapped was my mother. When I was little and I cried, she would cry with me. I remember her cycles of breakdown and recovery, a long, slow grind until I was old enough for her to go back to her job as a nurse. My father never understood her sacrifices. He just complained that she had become boring. Every place he conquered, he brought back a rock for her. Her vanity wasn’t filled with jewelry or makeup, but with a collection of stones from all over the country. And now, there was one more. Forget my mother; even I thought it was cruel. I wanted to throw it as far as I could. But Dad just smiled that chilling smile and asked, “What’s wrong, Helen? Don’t you like it?” “I love it,” Mom replied, her voice cold as ice. She told him to go upstairs, take a shower, and get some sleep. He agreed without argument, still smiling as he went upstairs. The moment we heard the shower start, Mom grabbed my arm and dragged me into a corner, her grip like a vice! “Lily! Listen to me very carefully! Remember every word!” her voice was a panicked whisper. “That man is not your father! Your father is dead in the Atacama!” “No matter what he says, no matter what he does, do not believe him! He is not your father!” A father returned from the dead should have been a miracle. For us, it was a curse. I was used to it being just Mom and me. Having this… father… in the house made my skin crawl. The next morning, Mom left early. She sent me a text saying she had to take care of something important and might be gone for a few days. She transferred a sum of money into my account and told me to take care of myself. Her last message was a stark reminder. “Don’t trust him, Lily. He is NOT your father!” My heart leaped into my throat. I had barely finished reading the text when I sensed a shadow behind me. I spun around to see my father’s face, his lips stretched into that unnatural smile. “Good morning, Lily. Texting your mom? Where is she? I didn’t see her this morning.” “She went to work,” I said quickly. “She has a business trip. She’ll be back in a few days.” Dad’s smile didn’t falter. He pushed his glasses up his nose, his eyes glinting as he easily dismantled my lie. “Your mother is just a nurse. She has business trips?” “Of course,” I improvised, my mind racing. “She’s up for the Head Nurse position. There’s a provincial competition. She’s been working so hard these past four years, Dad. Juggling her job and taking care of me.” I turned the question back on him. “What about you, Dad? Where have you been for four years? Why didn’t you call, not even once?” He paused. For a second, the look behind his glasses turned sharp and cold. But the smile remained plastered on his face. He began to tell me about his time in the desert, the dangers he faced, the vast, empty beauty he witnessed. He spoke in great detail, as if he really had been there for four years, and he had all of Dad’s memories of Mom and me. As he spoke, my eyes kept darting to the empty grave in the yard. I thought of the diary. It had to contain the real story of what happened to him in the Atacama. Mom had forbidden me from reading it when the police returned it, saying it would be too traumatic, that I’d never recover from the loss. She buried it to protect me. But what if I dug it up now? Could it give me a clue? If I compared its contents to what this man was telling me, maybe the truth would come out. I tucked the idea away and continued to make noncommittal conversation with him. At noon, he offered to cook lunch. The day wasn’t particularly warm, but he cranked the air conditioning, setting it to a very low temperature, letting the cold air blast directly onto him. Amidst the recycled air, I caught a faint, strange, foul odor. But I didn’t dare say anything. I just pretended not to notice and ate the meal he prepared. It tasted just as bad as I remembered his cooking. Nothing unusual there. After lunch, he said he was tired and went to his room to rest. He took another shower first, then went into his room and turned on the air conditioning, again setting it very low. As I walked past his door, a chilly draft seeped out from under it. The room inside was pitch black; he had drawn all the curtains. He had developed a sudden love for the dark. I noted all of this but kept silent, retreating to my own room. Once I was sure he was asleep, I grabbed a shovel and crept out to the backyard. I started digging. The memorial grave wasn’t deep. It only took me about fifteen minutes. I pulled out the backpack, retrieved the diary, and stuffed it inside my shirt. I quickly filled the hole back in and ran back to my room before he could wake up. I locked my door and windows, my heart pounding with anticipation as I opened the diary. It was definitely my father’s handwriting. The first twenty or so entries chronicled his journey into the Atacama. He wrote that he had entered the desert without issue and had met another expedition team, joining them on their journey. They decided to change their route to visit the ruins of Humberstone, a 19th-century ghost town in an undeveloped sector of the desert. Then, for a long time, the diary was blank. Pages and pages of empty paper. When the writing resumed, it was a single, terrifying sentence, written in what looked like blood. “Lily! If you’re reading this, run! Your mother is not your mother anymore…” “Run, do you understand?!” The chilling, blood-red words burned themselves into my mind. I gasped, and the diary fell from my trembling hands. As it hit the floor, a photograph slipped out. The photo was taken against a backdrop of a dusty, twilight-orange desert landscape. In the distance were the crumbling ruins of the Humberstone ghost town. And half-buried in the sand was the body of a woman. Her face had been gnawed away by scavengers, making her unrecognizable, but I knew the clothes she was wearing. And the bracelet on her wrist… I recognized it instantly. It was a bracelet I had made for my mother four years ago on a trip with my friends, with a small, laser-engraved message of love hidden on the clasp. But how did that bracelet end up in the Atacama? And who was this dead woman? My mind was a tangled mess of questions, my nerves stretched to their absolute limit. A knock on my door jolted me back to reality. “Lily? Are you sleeping? Why is the door locked?” It was my father. He jiggled the handle, his tone urgent, a stark contrast to his earlier gentleness. “Lily, open the door!” “Lily, what are you doing in there? Why are you locking the door in your own home? Hiding from your own father?” His voice grew more agitated, more accusatory. “What are you really doing? Do you have a boy in there? Is that it? You think you can sneak him in while I’m asleep? You have no respect for me at all!” He was shouting now, twisting the handle frantically, kicking at the door. I was frozen with fear. I tried calling my mother, but her phone went straight to a “not reachable” message. The next second, the door burst open, splintering from the frame! I had managed to hide the diary just in time. I watched, terrified, as my father stormed in, his face a mask of rage. He scanned my room, his eyes wild. “Where is he? Where is he!” “Lily, where did you hide that little bastard?!” I couldn’t even breathe. I could only cry silently. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dad. There’s no one here. I was just taking a nap.” “You need to lock the door for a nap?” he sneered. His eyes were cold as stone. “Don’t you ever lock this door again. Do you hear me?!” I curled into a ball on my bed and nodded. Instantly, his expression changed. He smiled and reached out to pat my head. “Good girl. That’s my good Lily.” As he touched my head, I smelled it again. That foul, rotting odor. My father was not my father. And whether my mother was still my mother… I no longer knew. Everything had become a terrifying mystery.

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“The next time I saw Zach Rivers, he’d gone from a D-list nobody to a corporate shark. Six years ago, when he needed me most, I’d walked away and moved halfway across the world. Now, my eyesight was failing, and he had a new arm candy – the latest “It” girl. Everyone gushed about them being a match made in heaven, but my sudden appearance caused Zach to lose it at a press conference. “Now that you’re back in the States, I wanted to use this to introduce you to some directors, see if they have any roles you’d be good for.” My old friend, Tiffany Blake, said as she looped her arm through mine. “No sweat, I’ll take anything that pays.” “Even a hardcore porn flick?” “If the price is right.” I hesitated, “Listen, Tiffany, it’s…” “Don’t tell me you blew through that money Mr. Davenport gave you? Five hundred grand, just to leave Zach alone? That’s real money, girl! How could you spend it all already?” Tiffany still hadn’t gotten over my decision six years ago. Back then, both Zach and I were struggling actors. Mr. Davenport, a sleazy producer with deep pockets, threatened to destroy Zach’s career if I didn’t sleep with him. Zach’s star was finally rising, and I couldn’t let him be dragged down. I grabbed Tiffany’s wrist, my eyes stinging. “Tiffany, I’m sick.” Tiffany’s face changed. “What? What’s wrong? I thought you were living the high life overseas. What happened?” Her tone softened. “Retinitis Pigmentosa. I just want to make as much money as I can while I can still see, so I can take care of myself when I go blind.” I said it calmly, but Tiffany’s eyes welled up. “Why didn’t you say anything? Does Zach know?” I squeezed her hand. “Please don’t tell him. He’s… happy now.” “Jamie! You’re just as pathetic as you were six years ago!” “I just… don’t want to mess with him anymore.” Of course, as fate would have it, Tiffany brought me to a press conference where Zach would be. I saw him right away and immediately tried to get out of there. Only, I got lost and ended up in some VIP lounge. I heard footsteps getting closer, and dove behind a sofa, holding my breath. Click. Someone came in and sat down. “Brittany, I think the strapless dress would look better on you for the wedding. We’ll have it in New Zealand, if you want.” That voice. Zach. So sweet, so caring… like a knife twisting in my gut. Brittany Wells, the A-list actress he was now with. I’d seen the stories even before I came back to the States. It seemed they were planning a wedding. Six years is a lifetime. He had moved on, and I shouldn’t be affected by it. Especially since I walked away. Suddenly, my phone rang, snapping me back to reality. I fumbled for it, hitting mute, and bolted for the door. Wearing a cocktail dress and heels, I wasn’t exactly making a quick getaway. Zach’s footsteps were closing in. I spotted a door on my right and threw it open, praying it would lead somewhere safe. Bad luck, it led to the main hall where the press conference was happening. In an instant, every camera turned on me. I covered my face and hurried down the steps, trying to stay out of sight. “Stop her!” Zach’s voice boomed behind me. I looked back and saw him staring at me, his face like thunder. A couple of bodyguards grabbed me. “If anyone releases a single one of those pictures, they’re going to regret it.” Tiffany elbowed her way through the crowd, shouting at Zach. “What do you think you’re doing? This is America!” Zach sauntered up to her, cool as ice. “I’m not doing anything, Tiffany. I just want to have a little chat with Ms. Jamie Walker.” Tiffany was taken back to the VIP room. Zach grabbed my wrist and dragged me down the hall. “Zach, you’re hurting me!” He ignored me, his face like a stone mask. I had no idea what he wanted, but my heart was pounding out of my chest. He threw me onto a sofa. Two goons closed the door and turned to me, grinning. “You two! Get over here!” Zach yelled. He pulled out his phone and pointed it at me. The two goons grinned as they began to approach me. “Zach! Please… don’t!” I cried, shrinking back. “You like being on a man’s arm? How about I let these two beefcakes have their way with you? Sound good?” The two men reached for my dress, and the strap broke. 2 “Zach! I… I’m begging you! Please! Don’t do this!” I sobbed, shaking all over. Zach’s knuckles were white as he gripped his phone. He hesitated, then shoved it back in his pocket. My dress was torn, and as I struggled to cover myself, the men’s lips began to touch my neck and chest. Zach’s face twisted with something that looked like disgust. He grabbed the two men by the hair and threw them back. “Get out! Get out!” The goons scrambled out of the room. I grabbed the scraps of my dress, shivering. Zach’s eyes were bloodshot, like a wild animal. He grabbed my arms, digging his fingers in. “You like this, don’t you? Isn’t this how you ended up in Davenport’s bed?” “No… no, I didn’t…” I stammered. Just then, Tiffany kicked the door open and pointed her phone at Zach. She shoved him away from me and slapped him hard across the face. “Zach Rivers! You are scum! If you don’t let us go right now, I swear, I’ll ruin my own career to send you to prison!” Zach glared at her. “You think you can stop me?” I tugged at Tiffany’s sleeve. “Take me away.” Tiffany took off her jacket and put it around me, her voice shaking. “Let’s go.” She helped me to the door, then stopped. “Zach, if you don’t want to regret it for the rest of your life, you’ll never hurt Jamie again. Or I’ll make you wish you were never born.” We didn’t turn around and didn’t see Zach’s expression, but I knew it wasn’t pretty. At Tiffany’s place, after I’d calmed down, she asked me. “Do you regret it? Giving up your reputation for that scumbag?” “Actually, no.” Tiffany looked shocked. “But Davenport spread those stories…” “It was all a lie.” I said, looking at the ceiling. Six years ago, Davenport had set a trap. That night, if I didn’t go to his room, Zach would be drugged and filmed in bed with another actress. I had to do something. In his moment of weakness, I slashed him with a knife I’d hidden in my boot. He saw I’d rather die than sleep with him. He demanded I never return to the States, or he would hurt Zach. Zach’s grandmother was sick and needed surgery, so he couldn’t lose his job. He had endorsements coming out of his ears. I had no choice. I left, and I didn’t take the five hundred thousand. Life overseas wasn’t easy. I washed dishes, waited tables, and ran a cash register. I finally came back when I saw that Davenport had died. Tiffany hugged me, crying softly. “Jamie, you suffered so much. You don’t have to work. I’ll take care of you, even if you go blind.” “You know me. I can’t stand to be a freeloader.” “But if you go back into show business, you’re going to run into Zach again. He went crazy looking for you. Especially when he heard you were with Davenport. Everyone thought Davenport sent you to Europe to live like a queen, until some rag posted a picture of you throwing up over there. Zach was a mess. Then his grandma died.” Tears streamed down my face. “I had severe depression. I couldn’t cope. Now, I don’t have a choice. This is the only way I can make money fast. My vision is getting worse, and I’m running out of time.” Two weeks later, Tiffany got me an audition for a supporting role. And I got it. But after the first day, I learned that Brittany Wells had replaced the lead actress. I knew Zach had something to do with it. But I didn’t know why. Did he just want me to suffer? 3 That evening, Zach’s Maybach was parked near the set, waiting for Brittany to get off work. We were supposed to be done by noon, but I was forced to stay until midnight. At night, my vision got really bad. I could barely see anything, and tripped several times on set. Brittany saw me trip and deliberately tripped me. I fell to the ground. “Oops, are you blind or something? You just walked right in front of me, without even saying hi! And you stepped on my foot.” I backed away. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.” “Are those eyes on your face for decoration only?” Brittany leaned in, pointing at my eyes. Before I could react, she grabbed my necklace and ripped it off. The pearls scattered all over the floor. “No! This was my mom’s…” I got down on my knees, frantically groping for them. I couldn’t see them. Tears welled up. “What’s going on here?” Zach walked over. I heard his voice and froze. Brittany wrapped her arm around his, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Just your ex-girlfriend, who just stepped on my foot.” Zach crouched down and wiped off her shoe. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you a new pair. I don’t want you catching anything nasty.” I knew he was talking about Davenport. “Oh, it’s okay. Maybe she didn’t mean it.” Brittany said with fake sincerity. I swallowed my tears and turned to leave. I could grab the pearls in the morning. “Jamie, this is the middle of nowhere. Does someone have to come pick you up? Do you want to ride with us?” Most of the crew had already left, and I wasn’t sure if I could get a ride. But I wasn’t getting in Zach’s car. “Don’t worry about her. Ms. Walker knows how to get a man’s attention.” Zach sneered. “Actually, she has a ride right here.” Tiffany’s voice came from behind me. “You can’t see at night, I figured I should come pick you up.” I grabbed her arm, whispering. “Thank God you’re here.” Tiffany turned to leave, but Brittany stopped her. “Oh, is she that delicate? Is she going blind?” Tiffany whirled around. “Yes! She is going blind! You should watch your mouth, or you’ll get what’s coming to you.” I pulled Tiffany. “Let’s go, please.” But Zach grabbed my arm, hard. “What did she mean by that? Did you tell her to say that to get my sympathy? Of course, the prettiest women are always the most manipulative.” I jerked my arm away. “Just leave me alone, Zach.” I pretended to stare fearlessly into his face. But he held up a pearl, shaking it in front of my eyes. I reached for it. He dropped it. 4 I bent down to pick it up, and his shoe came down hard on my hand. Tiffany tried to shove him. “Zach, that’s enough!” But his shoe didn’t move. “Say it. Say you’re a slut, and I’ll move.” Zach’s voice was low and furious. The pain was blinding, but I didn’t make a sound. Tiffany was almost crying. “Zach! Get your foot off her! She was never with Davenport! She only went to his room that night for you! She wasn’t pregnant! That was a reaction to her depression!” Zach’s foot didn’t move, but I felt the pressure lighten. Tiffany shoved him aside. I grabbed the pearl and tried to leave, but ran straight into Zach. “Is that true? Or is it just another lie? Are you really that kind of woman?” I snapped. I bit him on the hand, hard, until I tasted blood. Brittany rushed over and pushed me away. “What are you doing? You’re going to give Zach some kind of disease!” I spat onto the grass, then glared at Zach. “Yes, I slept with Davenport. I’m a gold digger. If you think I’m dirty, then stay away from me! I quit the show, and I just want you to leave me alone!” Tiffany yanked me away, slamming into Zach as we went. “Just wait, Zach Rivers. I’m going to take you down.” Two days later, my eye doctor, Dr. Dwayne King, told me to come in for a checkup. “What’s the point? It’s not like it’ll change anything.” “Jamie, you can’t give up. I’ll get you your favorite dessert.” I dragged myself to the hospital. I ran into Zach and Brittany, who were getting a pre-marriage physical. I ducked into a supply closet. But Zach saw me and dragged me out. “Jamie! How long are you going to keep this act up? Last time you said you were going blind. What is it this time? Can’t you just stay away from me? You make me sick!” I didn’t realize he hated me this much. He didn’t care if you were dying, he would think you were wasting his time. My heart sank. “Okay, fine. Give me a million dollars, and I’ll disappear forever.” “When did you get so cheap? Two million dollars, and sleep with me for a month.” I slapped him, turned, and walked away. “Jamie Walker, I’ll remember this. You’re going to pay for that!”

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In the seventh year of my marriage to Kevin Sterling, I gave in to temptation and fell for his best friend. This guy wasn’t just good-looking and ripped, he was loaded. He laid all his cards on the table, begged me to ask Kevin for a divorce, and I said yes. Bringing it up with Kevin was surprisingly smooth. He put up a token protest or two, then just agreed. That same day, the other guy and I got hitched at City Hall. And Kevin? He turns around and makes his relationship with his high school sweetheart Instagram official. Then, Kevin finds out I’m married and suddenly he’s crying, wants me back. Too little, too late, buddy. 1. I watched Kevin pack my stuff with a stone face. He’s always been the picture of consideration and thoughtfulness. Anyone who didn’t know the real story would think I was a total jerk, blowing off the perfect boyfriend. Just a little while ago, I confessed I’d cheated and wanted a divorce. Kevin put up a fight, said a few things about how we could work it out, but I stood my ground. Finally, he gave me this wounded puppy look and that was the end of the charade. I didn’t have much stuff, just one suitcase. Kevin opened the door for me, Mr. Manners as always. “If you ever need anything, you can call me,” he said. “Just because we’re breaking up doesn’t mean we’re enemies.” I gave him a tight smile. “I’ll be fine.” I dragged my suitcase out the door, not looking back. Kevin stood there watching me go, and I have no idea how long he kept looking. Downstairs, Jason “Jay” Weber was waiting for me in his car. When he saw me, his eyes lit up. He practically leaped out of the car to grab my suitcase. Jay hefted it a little. “That’s it?” he asked. “You didn’t keep much at Kevin’s?” I shook my head. “I didn’t stay there all that often.” I barely got in the car before Jay’s phone rang. It was Kevin. “Take care of Emily, will you? She’s quiet and a little shy.” Jay cut him off. “Got it, Kev. You don’t need to worry about her.” They chatted about something else for a minute before Jay hung up. Jay turned to me. “What are you in the mood for tonight?” “Mac and Cheese, maybe? I’ve been craving some comfort food.” Jay grinned. “Sounds good. I’ll whip some up for you.” Jay, my own personal ray of sunshine, is the guy I cheated with. He also happens to be Kevin’s best buddy. Unlike a lot of people, Kevin’s still trying to be friends with him. I rolled down the window and rested my chin on the edge, letting the wind mess up my hair. It was like the breeze was blowing away all the crap in my head. The thing is, they both think I’m oblivious but I’ve known for a while that Kevin’s been stepping out. Kevin and I were together for seven years. I know him inside and out. For the last six months, he’s been lying about going on “business trips.” Really, he’s just been hooking up with some chick at a hotel. Every time, I’d get an anonymous text message with the details – Kevin and his girl’s hotel reservation. When we were shopping, he always stopped at the perfume counter to try stuff out. He told me this “Daisy” perfume smelled amazing and asked if I wanted it. But Kevin conveniently forgot I’m super sensitive to smells and really don’t like perfume. He also started buying me dresses that were a size too small, saying I’d gained weight and needed to sign up for a gym membership. I knew my weight; I hadn’t gained an ounce, maybe even lost a few. In the end, he gave me the perfume and the dress anyway, determined to make me take them. I met Jay at the gym, of all places. The gym Kevin signed me up for and the best friend who was conveniently visiting from out of the country. It’s kind of embarrassing, but after all those years, Kevin never formally introduced me to his friends. I was never a part of his circle. After that, Jay started helping me at the gym, gave me advice on clothes, and showed me how to be confident. I started to open up, try new things, and stopped obsessing over Kevin. Deep down, I knew Jay showing up in my life wasn’t random. It was all part of Kevin’s plan. He wanted Jay to seduce me, to give him an out. The gym was just the stage where it was supposed to happen. The first day we met, I accidentally saw a text exchange between Jay and Kevin. Mr. Nice Guy Kevin didn’t want to admit he was cheating, so he was making me the bad guy. I couldn’t figure out why he was going through so much trouble. I don’t have anything to my name, and no family to rely on. He could’ve dumped me without a second thought. All he had to do was break up with me. 2. “Em, want to get married, like right now?” Jay’s voice snapped me back to reality. I nodded, a little dazed. Jay gave me a happy grin. We were stopped at a light, and he squeezed my hand, like it was the most precious thing in the world. I used to doubt Jay’s intentions, thought he’d dump me the second he got what he wanted. Because he’s just too good to be true. Unless Kevin had something to do with it. Getting the marriage license went smoothly. At the same time, I saw Kevin’s Instagram post. He was making his relationship official with Chloe Baker, a sophomore from my old college. I remember her. When I lost my diploma and went back to school for a replacement, Chloe was the driver’s daughter that worked for Kevin’s family. She was really helpful, running errands for me. But Chloe wasn’t the girl Kevin had been cheating with. I frowned, staring at the screen for too long. Jay saw me looking at Kevin’s Instagram post. “I know her,” he said casually. “Kevin brought her around once or twice. I could tell there was something going on.” He watched my face carefully. I just laughed. So Kevin does introduce girlfriends to his friends. He just didn’t think I was worth it. In seven years, I’d never been on Kevin’s social media. “Let’s go home and make that mac and cheese.” Jay’s face lit up. He took my hand. “Okay, let’s go.” I glanced at Jay’s profile. What would Kevin do if he knew I was really with Jay? Jay had agreed to Kevin’s scheme, but I doubt he ever expected to fall for me. Because of the differences between Jay and I. Jay’s from the wealthy Weber family. They’re practically royalty in this town. I’m just a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Back at Jay’s place, he cooked me mac and cheese. It was awesome, the recipe came straight from his grandpa. Just two months ago, my grandpa died. Kevin was “traveling for work”. When Grandpa was sick, he saw Jay by my side and thought he was my boyfriend. He taught him the family mac and cheese recipe, showed him all the tricks. Grandpa said, “When I’m gone, you can make it for my granddaughter.” Jay grabbed Grandpa’s hand and promised, “I’ll take care of her, I swear.” That’s the day I decided to take a chance on Jay. If only to make Grandpa happy. Because of Jay, my grandpa passed away peacefully. I suddenly teared up. Jay got concerned. “Em, you and Kevin are over. You’re my wife now.” I looked up at him, realizing he’d misunderstood. “I was just thinking about my grandpa.” Jay visibly relaxed. He pulled me into a hug, and I buried my face in his chest, letting the tears flow. Jay paused. “Em, I promise I won’t let you get hurt.” 3. Jay’s friend, Mike, was throwing a birthday party, and he invited both Kevin and Jay. Jay asked me, “You want to go? If you don’t want to, I’ll stay home.” He was looking at me with such worry and tenderness. I know that even though we’re married, Jay’s still a little unsure. He thinks I’m still hung up on Kevin. Those seven years leave a mark that’s not easily erased. I have to admit, I still think about Kevin sometimes. And I always end up comparing him to Jay, and Jay always wins. The more that happens, the more I know that Kevin doesn’t deserve me. “Sure, it’s your friend. He’d be bummed if you didn’t go.” Jay smiled. “I’m married now. I should be focusing on my family.” I poked him on the nose. “Kevin told me you used to be a player.” Jay paused, defensive. “What player? I didn’t play anyone. You know that. You’re the only one I’ve been with.” Jay might have gone to some clubs and knew how to act but I think it was all an act. I thought he was a player too. But the first time we were together, he was awkward and sweet. As expected, I saw Kevin at Mike’s birthday bash. When he saw me, his face changed, but then he saw Jay beside me, and he relaxed a little. Chloe stood silently next to Kevin. Kevin introduced her to everyone. “This is my girlfriend, Chloe.” Chloe gave Kevin a shy smile, and they looked at each other like they were the most in love couple in the world. Mike didn’t know what was going on. All he knew was that I’d cheated on Kevin with Jay, and Kevin had been gracious enough to forgive us. He gave me a dirty look, but kept his mouth shut out of respect for his friend. I went to the bathroom, and Kevin followed me, and warned me. “Em, we can’t be together. Don’t make things difficult for Chloe, okay? She’s not like you. She doesn’t know anything.” I kept my face neutral. “I know. It was my fault. I cheated on you with Jay.” Kevin’s face twisted for a second, but then his tone softened. “Jay’s not a good guy. After you two break up, find someone who’s better for you.” “What makes you think we’ll break up?” Kevin stared, then laughed. “A guy like that? He’s been with everyone.” I saw the contempt in Kevin’s eyes, and I wanted to ask my younger self, how did I not see this before? Love really does blind you. “Kevin, I finally understand what people mean when they say that about you.” I left Kevin there, speechless. Let him figure that one out. Back in the private room, Jay was talking to Mike, and everyone else was hanging out with Chloe, being nice to the youngest one in the group. I walked over to Jay, just in time to hear Mike say, “Dude, why would you steal your best friend’s girl? What’s so great about her? You can have anyone you want. You’re not that shallow, are you?” I instinctively touched my face and smiled. Mike was right, my face is definitely my best feature. Kevin chased after me because of my looks. But why is it okay for Kevin to cheat, but not for me? Jay spoke up. “Mike, you can’t just judge people by their looks. And it wasn’t her fault.” Mike got even more excited. “Are you saying you’re in love with her face? Seriously? She used to be Kevin’s girl! You just don’t do that, bro.” He suddenly saw me and his face turned red. I casually sat down next to Jay and whispered in his ear. “Kevin came to find me.” Jay’s hand tightened around mine, and I smiled. Jay’s more worried about me than I thought. 4. Mike saw Jay and I holding hands and looked confused as he wandered off. He was mumbling to himself. I stared after him. Jay tugged at my hand. “Let’s make it official,” he said. He looked at me hopefully. Jay’s the one who’s been wanting to go public, not me. I don’t really care about being official. I don’t even want to. Everyone thinks I’m not good enough for Jay. They think Jay’s just messing around and that he’ll come to his senses and dump me eventually. But when I saw the look in Jay’s eyes, I remembered all the times he was there for me, and helped me through stuff I couldn’t have handled on my own. “Jay, do you think I’m fat?” Jay shook his head violently. “Kevin signed me up for a gym membership because he said I’d gained weight.” “He bought me dresses that were a size too small.” Jay’s eyes widened, and he finally understood. His face was panicked, and he started to explain. “I really do love you. I know things started…” Started with a lie. With him trying to seduce me. I put my finger on his lips and smiled. “It doesn’t matter.” Jay grabbed my hand, his throat working. The next second, everyone gasped. They were playing a game. It was the King’s Game, and Chloe had to follow the instructions. She had to sit in Kevin’s lap and kiss him in front of everyone. Everyone knows that Kevin’s Mr. Proper. He never does anything out of line in public. He never would’ve played a game like that with me, not even Truth or Dare. Chloe shyly walked up to Kevin and whispered, “Honey, I’m going to kiss you.” Kevin smiled and reached for her. “Come here, sweetheart.” Chloe sat on his lap, and they started kissing. It was more like Kevin was kissing Chloe than the other way around. I finally got it. Kevin does make exceptions. Jay grabbed my hand. “We’re married now,” he whispered. I looked at him, remembering the night before I broke up with Kevin. That’s the way he’d looked at me, begging me to leave Kevin. He offered me all his money if I asked Kevin for a divorce. Jay said, “I’ll always love you, respect you, and cherish you.” Those words made me fall for Kevin’s trap, without any hesitation. I took Jay’s hand and pulled him up. Chloe and Kevin finished their kiss and glanced at us. Kevin looked icy and Chloe looked smug. I cleared my throat and motioned to Jay. Jay’s heart was pounding, and his eyes were shining. His hand was sweaty in mine. “Everyone, I know this isn’t the right time to say this.” “But I have to.” Mike’s mouth dropped open. “Because I feel like you’re not respecting my wife.” Mike jumped up and looked at Kevin, whose face was dark with anger. Jay’s voice was calm as he looked at each person in the room. “Emily and I are married. We got married last week.”

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After years of marriage with no kids, my husband suggested we adopt. Turned out, the kid was a born troublemaker. Not long after the adoption, I got pregnant with my own daughter. When my husband and adopted daughter found out I was pregnant, they gave my belly a creepy look. Later, my daughter and I died in a car accident. When I woke up again, I swore they’d pay! 1. In my past life, my husband, David, and I had been married for years without children. He suggested adopting a child from foster care, and I agreed. The first time I saw Ashley, she was batting those big, watery eyes at me. They seemed so pure and innocent. Looking back, it’s scary how well she could hide herself, especially at such a young age. That day, Ashley pretended to be well-behaved, reaching out her little hand to tug on my sleeve, looking up at me with a pitiful expression. Before I could say anything, David rushed over, blocking my scrutinizing gaze. He smiled and said, “She’s a good kid. Even if we have our own children, she can help take care of her little brother or sister.” Naive me, I believed him. We brought Ashley home that very day. The first night, Ashley “accidentally” broke my perfume bottle. She pouted, looking all sorry for herself. David, drawn by the commotion, rushed upstairs looking worried, checking to see if Ashley was hurt. Then, he looked up, annoyed, and scolded, “It’s just perfume. So it broke. Is perfume more important than our daughter?” I stood there dumbfounded, watching David act out his role as a loving father. In the following days, David changed Ashley’s last name to his. They acted like real father and daughter, and Ashley always seemed to subtly brag about how good David was to her. Then, I got pregnant. Overjoyed, I shared the news with David and Ashley. The smiles on their faces froze. At the time, I didn’t understand why David tensed up, looking grim. We’d been trying for six years for a baby. I expected excitement! Ashley just stopped smiling, giving my belly a strange look. Throughout the pregnancy, I spent most of my time with Ashley. David said he had to travel for work, for about a year. Before leaving, he told me to take care of Ashley. I just thought he wasn’t used to the idea of my daughter yet. Remembering how stupid I was, I wanted to shake my past self awake. Soon, it was time for me to give birth. Ashley “coincidentally” came down with a high fever that day. I, heavily pregnant, kept bending over at her bedside, putting a cool washcloth on her forehead. Ashley was always sickly, getting sick all the time; doctor visits were common. Suddenly, I felt a gush of fluid. I looked down to see that my pants were soaked – my water broke. I carefully moved, trying to get to the phone in the living room to call for help. Ashley then opened her red eyes, with barely concealed hatred in their depths. Seeing my desire to leave, she pinched my arm hard. I gasped. Looking back at her, she gave me a look of feigned helplessness. She whimpered, “Mom, don’t leave me. I’ll be scared if I’m alone.” Saying she was scared, yet wearing a gloating expression on her face. I was in a rush and didn’t notice her expression. I comforted her, then turned and went to call 911. But I didn’t see Ashley lying on the bed, fiercely glaring at my back. David rushed back, bursting through the door in a panic, ignoring my pleas for help, and rushing into Ashley’s room. He scooped her up and rushed her to the hospital. As he left, he glared at me resentfully, not caring that my water had broken and that my baby was in danger if I didn’t get to the hospital soon. 2. Thankfully, the ambulance arrived in time. As I lay in the ambulance, I saw David’s car speed past through the window. My heart turned cold. After my daughter, Lily, was born, I insisted on a divorce. David refused. He and his precious daughter teamed up to trick me. He knelt by the hospital bed, looking all sincere, and said he was sorry, he was just too worried about Ashley and had forgotten about me. I laughed at his shamelessness. I asked him, pointing to my daughter sleeping peacefully beside me, which one was his real daughter? Ashley stepped forward, tearfully saying it was her fault for getting sick, and that Dad was just worried. Seeing that I wasn’t budging, David exploded, cursing me for being petty. My daughter had just been born, and needed her father’s love, he said. I relented again. For my daughter, I put up with it. From then on, David was more restrained, until Ashley deliberately blinded my five-year-old daughter in her right eye. I finally lost it and called the police, but I didn’t expect that they would tamper with my car. I died in a car accident. I can’t imagine what kind of torture my daughter would endure in their hands. Ashley would never allow my daughter to take away David’s love for her. 3. I woke up again before my daughter lost her eye. At the dinner table, I was a little stunned. A tidal wave of hatred swallowed me. I looked up at the familiar house, and at Ashley sitting across from me. I could almost still hear the sound of the car crash, the pain of my organs being crushed. I couldn’t hide my hatred, wanting to stab that little beast to death. She looked at me, pretending to love her “sister,” picking out the fish bones for my daughter, Lily, and putting the fish meat in her bowl. I stopped Lily from taking the fish, putting the fish back. I forced a smile, staring at her. “Lily’s had too much fish today, Ashley, you eat it.” Ashley’s smug expression froze. She blurted out that she didn’t want any. I insisted, picking up the fish and holding it to her mouth. “You were going to give it to Lily anyway, weren’t you?” Seeing that I wouldn’t take no for an answer, Ashley’s face tightened. She forced a smile and said she was full. I wasn’t going to let her get away with it, shoving the fish into her mouth. Smiling sweetly, I looked at her and said, “You’re so silly, I offer you some fish and you refuse. Wasn’t this piece of fish the one you just picked out for Lily?” I emphasized the word “picked out,” watching Ashley’s face turn red as she forced the fish down, a look of pain flashing across her face. She’s a born troublemaker. Unless you poke her, she’ll never feel the pain. Ashley tried to hide the fish bones in the fish meat while pretending to pick fish bones for Lily, knowing she would swallow it and hurt her throat. David came home, carrying his briefcase. Ashley’s eyes lit up. She eagerly ran over to take his briefcase, calling out, “Dad,” in a hoarse voice. David frowned, and instinctively looked at me and blurted out, “Did you force Ashley to eat something again? Didn’t I tell you, Ashley is delicate, she can’t eat unhealthy stuff.” I coldly glanced at him, sat back in my chair, crossed my arms, and said, “Is it wrong for her to eat fish?” David instinctively retorted, “What’s wrong with her voice? If you didn’t make her eat things she shouldn’t, who else would harm her?” Ashley stepped forward, pretending to be concerned, taking David’s arm and standing by his side, speaking up for me. But her voice was even hoarser than before, almost unable to speak. David, frantic, glared at me unhappily. Grabbing Ashley’s hand, he said, “Let’s go to the hospital.” Before leaving, Ashley gave me a meaningful look, following David out. Foiled with harming Lily, she turned it into a sympathy play, making David feel sorry for her and blame me. Such scheming at such a young age. This time, I’d see who had the last laugh. 4. Ashley scratched her throat with a fish bone and bled, and David stubbornly took leave from work to accompany her at the hospital. The next day, I sent Lily to school as usual, and received a call from David on the way. He had the nerve to ask me to bring them food, complaining that the hospital food was too unappetizing. Asking me to deliver it to the hospital in an hour. I laughed out loud. David was still saying it was all my fault for forcing Ashley to eat fish. Saying she was hospitalized, and that I should be there with her instead of him. I said angrily, “You insisted on staying in the hospital, if you’re not there with her, who will be? If you want me to bring you food, you can forget about it, go eat dirt.” With that, I hung up the phone, trembling with anger. How could there be such a shameless person? 5. A week later, Ashley bounced home, with David following behind her. Loaded with bags, unshaven, and with dark circles under his eyes. I curled my lips, eating fresh cherries, one after another, making them swallow their saliva. Ashley, a little greedy, reached out without hesitation to take one. I slapped her hand away, annoyed. “Did I say you could eat them?” Ashley used the same old trick, whining to David. David slumped on the sofa, panting, not even looking at us. Ashley bit her lip, glared at me resentfully, and moved next to David. Grabbing his sleeve, she whined, “Dad, I just got back from the hospital, and Mom won’t even let me eat fruit. Say something!”

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My fiancé, Alex, after six long years climbing the ladder at his company, finally got promoted from a junior position to department supervisor. At the celebratory dinner, Alex proudly held my hand as we went to toast the Vice President who’d championed him. That’s when I realized the VP who’d been mentoring Alex all this time was a client from my old life. The kind of client who could book me for the entire night for a hefty price tag. 1 I got into the life at eighteen and got out at thirty. Ten years – feels like forever and no time at all. By the time I decided to leave that world behind, I’d managed to scrape together enough for a car, a down payment on a small place, and a little bit in savings. Given my line of work, I didn’t exactly broadcast my modest success. I knew all too well how vicious gossip could be. It could haunt families for generations. The last thing I wanted was for my parents back home to be shamed by the neighbors because of me. So, before I officially “retired,” I lined up a backup plan. No, a future. The classic “solid guy.” His name was Alex Thompson. From the same small town as me. Average looking, a little soft around the middle, not particularly tall – the kind of guy who blends into a crowd. But he was the only person from our town who’d gone to a prestigious university and landed a great job in New York City, even managing to buy an apartment there. Sure, it was a tiny studio, maybe 500 square feet, and he only had the down payment covered, but back in our little corner of the world, that was like reaching the moon. More importantly, he’d been living in NYC for six years. One more year, and he’d have residency, really putting down roots. Besides the NYC stability, what really pushed me towards Alex was seeing what happened to my friend Jenny, who’d gotten out six months before me. She’d been around the block too. She thought she had her escape route planned out – becoming the mistress of some older, moderately wealthy guy. He promised her a house in her hometown and a million dollars if she gave him a son, enough to set her up for life. But before the baby was even born, his wife found out. She showed up, attacked Jenny viciously, and Jenny lost the baby. Worse, the damage meant she could never have kids again. She ended up with nothing. All of us girls at the club heard the story, shared sympathetic sighs, and took it as a hard lesson. So, I pulled out all the stops. I charmed Alex completely. Made him believe I was the only woman for him. Even when his parents argued I wasn’t good enough – wrong background, wrong education, and let’s face it, my looks screamed “trouble” – they figured even if we got married, he couldn’t hold onto me. But Alex didn’t waver. Somehow, he convinced his parents to back down. They set the wedding date for Memorial Day weekend this year. And just a few days ago, he got that promotion. His salary doubled, and his position at the company was more secure than ever. I was starting to genuinely look forward to it – escaping my small-town past, settling down in NYC, starting fresh. But then, that celebration dinner threw a wrench into my carefully constructed, seemingly perfect new life. 2 “Chloe, the VP’s over there. Mr. Henderson. I owe him a lot; he’s looked out for me since I started. This promotion is thanks to him too. Let’s go raise a glass.” That evening, at the department dinner celebrating Alex’s promotion, he pulled me, all dressed up, towards his Vice President. I’d agreed to come mostly because we were getting married soon – seemed like the supportive fiancée thing to do. Plus, I wanted to subtly signal to any hopeful young women in Alex’s department that he was taken. Even a “solid guy” like Alex, especially one who just became a supervisor, could attract attention from newcomers looking for a shortcut up the ladder. “Okay,” I said, getting up gracefully and walking beside Alex towards the circle of people surrounding Mr. Henderson. Even before we reached him, I had a nagging feeling I’d seen this VP somewhere before. Having met countless men over the years, I initially dismissed it as mistaken identity, my memory playing tricks. I didn’t dwell on it. But when Alex and I stopped right in front of him, my blood ran cold. Alex’s Vice President. I had seen him before. Not just seen him – I knew him from the club where I used to work. He’d specifically requested me several times. The all-night kind of request. I never, ever imagined I’d run into a former client like this, in this setting. “Mr. Henderson, thank you so much for your support on our department’s projects. I’d like to propose a toast. This is my fiancée, Chloe Miller.” Alex was so focused on showing his respect that he didn’t notice the color drain from my face. Of course, my years of practice in hiding my true feelings helped immensely. “Alex, my boy, you’re a lucky man. Such a beautiful fiancée,” Mr. Henderson said, his eyes sweeping over me with perfect corporate politeness before landing on the standard compliment. Not a trace of anything inappropriate. The last time I’d dealt with Henderson must have been about a year ago. Back then, I wore the heavy, uniform makeup favored by the club. Maybe he didn’t remember me, or maybe he just didn’t recognize me without the war paint. If he did recognize me, knowing his usual sleazy nature, he wouldn’t be acting this professionally. I tried to reassure myself silently. Focus. Act natural. “You’re too kind, Mr. Henderson. We’d both like to toast you,” Alex suggested respectfully. “Excellent,” Henderson beamed, agreeing readily and clinking glasses. He clinked Alex’s glass, then mine. And in that brief moment, the way his eyes lingered just a fraction too long, the slight pressure as his glass touched mine – I knew. He recognized me. And he already had ideas. 3 “Chloe, what’s wrong? You look pale. Are you feeling okay?” As soon as we were out of Henderson’s direct line of sight, Alex noticed something was off. “No, I’m fine. Just not used to drinking, I guess. I need to use the restroom.” I practically fled. Once inside the ladies’ room, I leaned against the cool tile, forcing myself to breathe, to think. Look, people in my old line of work, even though it’s not something you advertise, generally follow an unwritten code. Outside the club, once the transaction is over, you’re strangers. That goes for us and the clients. It’s an understanding. But Henderson… the reason he made me so nervous, so thrown off, wasn’t just because he was a regular. He was infamous among the girls. The kind of client everyone dreaded. Cheap, demanding, always trying to push boundaries. Always trying to get the most while paying the least. He’d even complain afterwards, trying to get discounts. But we couldn’t refuse clients. And he used to request me specifically. A lot. To save money, he’d tried more than once to bypass the club, suggesting private arrangements. I always shut him down flat. I knew he held a grudge, always looking for a chance to cause trouble for me. It’s just that I’d suddenly disappeared from the scene, gotten out, so he never got the chance. Now, meeting like this, him recognizing me immediately… he wouldn’t let this go easily. Worse, he saw me with Alex. Someone as conniving as him would instantly figure out what I was after with Alex. Alex wasn’t rich, not by NYC standards, and maybe not irreplaceable in the grand scheme of things. But he was the best, most stable option I could realistically find. Plus, he genuinely seemed to love me. We’d been together almost a year, and he happily supported me. Even though my “job” at my boutique barely paid the bills and had flexible hours (meaning I rarely had to go in early or stay late), he never complained. He’d bring me breakfast before he left for work, order lunch delivery for me, come home with groceries and cook dinner. He even did the dishes. Never asked me to lift a finger around the house. A whole year, day in and day out, without a single complaint. He was the definition of a solid, dependable guy. On top of that, Alex was an only child. His parents ran a small business back home, enough to support themselves in retirement. They could even help with childcare when we eventually had kids. Alex and his family represented a future I couldn’t afford to lose. It felt like my one and only chance. So, I absolutely could not let Alex find out about my past. I couldn’t let Henderson scare him away. 4 “Honey, my friend back in Chicago, she’s going through a rough patch with her boyfriend. She’s really down and asked if I could come visit for a few days. My boutique… could you maybe check on it while I’m gone? You don’t have to stress about it, the two girls working there are pretty reliable. I’m just worried something unexpected might pop up and they wouldn’t know how to handle it.” After agonizing over it, I caved. I agreed to meet Henderson privately. I knew exactly what that meeting implied. But for the sake of my future, my carefully planned happiness, I felt I had no choice. To avoid suspicion from Alex, I used my friend in another city as an excuse. “Chicago? For how long? Do you have enough money? Let me Venmo you a thousand, just in case. If you need more, just tell me, I get paid again soon.” Alex, bless his trusting heart, was the same as always. Believed whatever I said, never questioned, just did his best to make sure I was taken care of. Before I could even refuse, the notification popped up on my phone. “$1000 received from Alex Thompson.” “No, honey, really. Business at the shop has been okay lately, I have enough. Besides, payday is still two weeks away for you. Keep your money.” A pang of guilt hit me. I genuinely didn’t want his money this time. Besides, I wasn’t broke. Aside from my secret savings, I had the boutique. Right here in NYC. Okay, working nights wasn’t glamorous, but the kind of men who frequented those places often had serious money. I knew my looks wouldn’t last forever, so while I was still “in demand,” I’d deliberately cultivated relationships with a few successful businessmen. Picked their brains about how things worked. One guy, a clothing wholesaler, went from client to business contact. Online shopping hit my little brick-and-mortar store hard. It wasn’t making me rich, but it paid the bills. Just enough to survive. Which, conveniently, fit perfectly with the backstory I’d crafted for myself – ten years working dead-end retail jobs back home. Nobody in our hometown suspected a thing. “Baby, your money is your money. Keep it for yourself. My money is for taking care of you.” Alex refused when I tried to send it back. “Don’t worry about me. I don’t smoke, I eat at the company cafeteria for lunch and dinner. I just need a few bucks for the subway. You go have fun with your friend. And hey, if she wants to come here to clear her head, just let me know ahead of time, I can crash at the office or find somewhere else to stay.” He’d thought of everything, anticipated potential issues, and had solutions ready. So considerate. “Alex…” Moved by his simple, steady kindness – a stark contrast to the world I came from – I wrapped my arms around him. “Don’t get emotional over little things, Chloe,” he said softly, patting my back. “This is just what you do for someone you love. And I promise, I’m going to work even harder, make more money, so I can provide for you and our future kids. As long as I’m around, you won’t have to worry about a thing.” He spoke with such sincerity. No flowery promises, but it meant more than any fancy words could. “Okay,” I nodded, burying my face in his shoulder. At that moment, whatever my initial reasons, I truly wanted this life with Alex. I would find a way to deal with Henderson, to remove any obstacle standing between us. 5 “Mr. Henderson. Long time no see. Hope you’re well.” Arriving at the hotel room he’d specified, I switched on my old professional persona. Bright smile, warm greeting, perfectly poised, just like back at the club. Even though looking at him made my stomach turn. “Chloe, my dear. It has been too long. I’ve missed you terribly.” Before the words were fully out of my mouth, Henderson lunged towards me, grabbing, just like he used to at the club – pay the money, then immediately try to get his hands on you, afraid of missing a second of what he paid for. Except this time, as he clearly intended, it was supposed to be free. Too bad for him. I was out of the life. And I’d found a man who treated me right. I was determined to be better now. I sidestepped him smoothly, almost instinctively. Besides wanting to protect myself and my future with Alex, I knew that if I let Henderson get what he wanted today, he’d be like gum stuck to my shoe. Impossible to get rid of, ever. “Chloe, what’s this? Think just because you snagged some up-and-comer, you can forget what you are?” Predictably, Henderson’s face changed instantly. The mask dropped, replaced by a sneer. The insults started. “Mr. Henderson, it’s good to see you again,” I began, keeping my smile fixed, professional. “But as you noted, I haven’t worked in that capacity for a long time now. And if I recall correctly, our past interactions were always strictly business. Settled upon completion.” Maintaining composure was rule number one from day one in that business. Besides, my goal today was to solve a problem, not start a fight. “You’re not working, yet you came. So, you have something you want to discuss.” Henderson hadn’t gotten to his position at a Fortune 500 company just by being cheap. He wasn’t stupid. “Mr. Henderson, you have a beautiful family, a successful career. You can afford any companion you desire at those clubs. Surely, you don’t need to waste your time on me. Of course,” I lowered my voice slightly, adopting the deferential tone he clearly craved, “if I somehow offended you in the past, please, tell me now. I sincerely apologize for any past indiscretion on my part. I was young and foolish. I’d like to make amends.” I practically bowed, trying to give him the sense of power he seemed to need. “But right now, Chloe,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement, “I want you.” He looked at me like I was a trapped animal, enjoying my futile struggles. “Mr. Henderson, why risk complications? Why risk upsetting your home life over someone insignificant like me? Surely, this is something money can resolve. No need for unnecessary drama.” I hinted, not too subtly, at buying his silence. “Ah, Chloe. Do you know why, out of all the girls at the club, I always preferred you? Besides that pretty face, you were always the smartest one. But intelligence used wrongly is useless.” “You think my wife,” he scoffed, “is the kind of woman who’d cause a scene over some girl from a club? You think she doesn’t know men have their… diversions? If she couldn’t handle that, she wouldn’t have lasted this long as Mrs. Henderson.” He saw right through my veiled threat about his wife, and he didn’t care. He looked smug, as if he’d anticipated my every move. “But you, Chloe, you’re different. No, wait. Alex is different. Alex is a decent guy, building his life through hard work. A man like that, a successful, driven man? He could never tolerate his wife being… well, being someone like you. Someone available to any man with the right amount of cash.” “If I remember correctly, Alex just bought property in the city. Another year, and he’s fully established. Marry him, and you’re set for life. NYC residency, financial security.” “But,” he leaned in slightly, “if Alex breaks up with you now? You get nothing. You won’t find another guy like him. You’ll end up back looking for sugar daddies, or marrying someone old enough to be your father.” He had it all mapped out, my potential futures laid bare. In his eyes, I was a cornered fox, no match for his cunning. Completely at his mercy. “What do you want?” I finally asked, my voice tight. My options were dwindling fast. Besides, Henderson was right. Society judges women far more harshly than men for the same behavior. A man’s indiscretions are often forgiven. A woman’s past? It can destroy her. “Simple,” he purred, leaning back, confident. “You just be a good girl. Be available when I call. Be as… accommodating… as you were back at the club. Do that, and I guarantee, Alex will never know your little secret. Everything you want from him, you’ll get.” The disgusting pig. He wanted a mistress without paying the price. “I… I need to think about this, Mr. Henderson,” I stammered. Even though it felt like there was only one path left, I couldn’t bring myself to agree immediately. “Fine,” he smirked, clearly sensing victory. “After all, you’re a respectable lady now. Besides your fiancé, I’ll be your only other man.” His tone dripped with smug satisfaction. “But don’t take too long deciding, Chloe. Otherwise, Alex might receive some… interesting information. And then, poof! All your carefully laid plans go up in smoke.”

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I suspected my husband was cheating. The first inkling came from that weird text message. Ding— “Who’s texting you this late?” I quickly rinsed my hands under the faucet, wiped them absently on my apron, and peeked my head out from the kitchen. “It’s Leo,” Jack said, a flash of nervousness crossing his face. He held up his phone as if showing me, explaining, “He’s fighting with his girlfriend again, wanted some advice.” Before I could get a clear look, he snatched the phone back. Maybe it was just basic marital trust, but I didn’t question him then. I pulled my head back into the kitchen, brought out two steaming plates of food that actually looked pretty good, and joked, “If he’s really taking advice from you, he’ll probably be single forever.” “Hey, are you doubting your husband’s skills?” “Stop it,” I laughed, pushing his arm away as he tried to hug me – I’m ticklish. “You smell like cooking oil. Go wash up, dinner’s ready.” Right as we were eating, his phone rang again. Jack answered, then hung up looking apologetic. “Leo and his girlfriend are really going at it. He wants me to go over and mediate.” “Okay, let me come with you,” I said immediately, putting down my chopsticks, ready to get up. “No, it’s okay,” he said quickly. “You know Leo, he gets embarrassed easily. Too many people will just make it worse. I’ll be back later, don’t wait up.” “Just try to smooth things over, okay? Don’t go giving him any crazy ideas,” I reminded him, still feeling a little uneasy. It was already seven PM. Watching him practically jog to the car, I still felt worried, so I called Leo myself. When he picked up, it sounded noisy in the background, definitely not like he was at home. Even then, it didn’t fully click that something was wrong. I started right in, “Look, girls get moody sometimes, just be sweet to her, okay? And whatever you do, don’t listen to any dumb advice Jack gives you.” “Uh, Sarah? What are you talking about?” Leo sounded completely lost. “Aren’t you fighting with your girlfriend? Jack’s already on his way over. Seriously, don’t let him mess things up.” “Oh! Right… yeah, we had a fight. Don’t worry, Sarah, I got this.” After hanging up, a seed of doubt started to grow. Maybe it’s true what they say about a woman’s intuition, especially when it comes to men and relationships. Like a detective, you find one tiny clue, and you can’t stop until you’ve uncovered the whole truth. The next day, I was about to toss Jack’s dirty shirt into the laundry when I hesitated. Maybe it was Leo’s obviously fake phone call playing on my mind. On impulse, I lifted the shirt to my nose. A heavy, sickeningly sweet perfume clung to it. Coco Mademoiselle. I only ever wear cool, crisp scents, maybe something woody. I’d never buy a perfume that sweet. For the smell to be that strong, lingering like that… it meant being close to someone for a long time. Very close. My fingers tightened on the fabric. Doubt had been there, simmering, but I hadn’t wanted to believe the worst. “Hey, can I use your phone? Mine’s dead,” I asked, sitting on the couch. I’d seen in the reflection of his glasses that he was looking at photos. Jack tensed up, fumbling for a second before handing it over. The home screen was clean, no weird apps. His contacts list only had friends and family we both knew, barely any business contacts. The text messages were empty. I tapped on WhatsApp. A password prompt appeared. Habitually, I typed in my birthday. Password incorrect. Again. Incorrect. My eyes started to sting. Just as I was about to give the phone back, defeated, a notification popped up at the top of the screen: “I miss you. Come keep me company.” The words flashed and disappeared. 2. A dull ache started in my chest, but I forced myself to act casual, handing the phone back as if I hadn’t seen a thing. Sure enough, Jack glanced at the screen, saw the message, and shot a guilty look my way. Seeing my blank expression, he visibly relaxed. We only got together after he broke up with his college girlfriend. He started dating me, supposedly, to get over her. I fell for him back then because he seemed so devoted. Even though his ex treated him like her personal ATM, he never complained and always kept a respectful distance from other women. The guy who seemed so loyal back then… I couldn’t quite believe he’d cheat on me now. Even if he didn’t love me, the evidence was piling up, and I couldn’t just ignore it. Over the next few days, I watched him constantly. He’d stare at his phone, smiling stupidly to himself, then quickly hide it with a guarded look if I walked nearby. Sometimes, I’d wake up in the middle of the night and faintly hear him whispering on the phone. I didn’t have concrete proof, but all the signs pointed to it: the man I’d poured all my tenderness into, trying to heal his past hurts, was cheating on me. Still, I felt a bitter resentment. Resentment that the marriage I’d worked so hard to maintain could be wrecked by some homewrecker. Resentment that the man I’d painstakingly helped put back together was about to be snatched up by someone else who hadn’t done any of the work. That evening, Jack came home looking apologetic. “Honey, I’m so sorry. Something came up at work, they just told me I have to go on a business trip for a week.” Tomorrow was our first wedding anniversary. I’d been planning for it for ages. “Can’t it wait until the day after tomorrow?” I dug my nails into my palms, fighting to keep my voice steady, not wanting to arouse suspicion. Jack’s parents built their company from the ground up. He rarely had to travel for work. This sudden trip felt highly suspicious. “You know how it is with the company,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “It’s feast or famine. When things are slow, they’re slow, but when something urgent comes up, you can’t delay it.” “I was just kidding,” I forced a smile, my heart feeling like a block of ice. “Work’s important. I’ll help you pack later.” “Okay,” he said, planting a quick kiss on my cheek before heading cheerfully to the bathroom. “Wait for me.” Ding— His phone chimed with a WhatsApp notification. I glanced towards the bathroom – he was still showering. I quickly grabbed the phone. Tilting it towards the light, I could see faint smudges on the screen over certain numbers on the keypad, marks from being pressed repeatedly. After a few tries, the WhatsApp password unlocked. Pinned to the top was a chat labeled “Wendy (Mentee).” I opened it. The latest message was from her: Boss, I booked the hotel. What do you think? Pretty nice, right? Below it were pictures of different themed ‘fantasy’ suites and rooms with big, round beds. My mind went blank. My chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing my heart. I heard movement from the bathroom – Jack was getting out. I quickly closed the chat, marked the message as unread, and put the phone back exactly where it was. Jack came out, walking quickly, looking flustered. When he saw the phone untouched in its usual spot, he let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh of relief. Thinking about that message felt like swallowing fish bones – stuck in my throat. I watched him pick up the phone, his eyes glued to the screen. A mess of conflicting emotions churned inside me. I deliberately walked closer. He stiffened, instantly defensive, snapped the phone shut, and stood up. “Uh, work emergency. I need to make a call on the balcony. Honey, why don’t you go take your shower?” I stared at his back. In the reflection on the window, I could clearly see the soft, adoring smile on his face as he talked. A smile I’d never seen directed at me. My heart clenched painfully again. Just as he was about to hang up, I finally went into the bathroom. I turned on the shower, letting the hot water and the noise cover the sound of my tears. It felt like I could hide the fact I was crying if the water washed them away. Maintaining this relationship had taken almost everything I had. Right now, I just felt incredibly tired. When I came out, he was fiddling with his phone, completely preoccupied. He didn’t even notice my red, swollen eyes. “Can you really not love me?” I forced my lips into a smile, trying to sound casual. Maybe deep down, there was still a sliver of hope I wasn’t even aware of. He probably didn’t even hear me properly. He just wrapped his arm around my waist, pulled me onto the bed, and said eagerly, “I’m leaving tomorrow. You need to give me a proper send-off tonight.” To avoid making him suspicious, I didn’t push him away. Maybe he was all fired up from talking to her. He was rougher than usual tonight, almost frantic. I swallowed down the nausea rising in my throat and just let him finish, tears silently sliding down my cheeks onto the pillow. Afterward, I immediately rolled over, facing away from him, pretending to be exhausted and asleep. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Jack carefully slipped out of bed, clutching his phone, and tiptoed back out to the balcony to make another call

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Ten years into our marriage, I got into a car accident on the way to yet another prenatal appointment my husband had forgotten. As I lay bleeding, I called him for help, but he just brushed me off, annoyed: “If you’re not dead, go to the hospital. I’m busy.” The next second, I saw my husband, sitting in the passenger seat of the car that hit me, hang up my call. He turned to the woman in his arms, his voice full of tenderness, and said to his young secretary: “Don’t worry, I’m here.” He calmly left the scene with her, leaving me alone in a pool of blood. In that moment, it finally hit me. My marriage had been crumbling for a long time. Ten years of love had turned into nothing. 1. The doctor handed me the miscarriage papers, sighing softly. “Ms. Thompson, you just had a miscarriage. You need to rest.” Then, he looked at me with a hint of discomfort. “We contacted Mr. Davis, but he said…” The doctor avoided my eyes, his voice barely above a whisper: “He said, ‘If she’s not dead, tell her to get back here and make dinner.’” I took the papers, smiling through my tears as I stroked the image of my baby. Just hours before, I’d been dreaming about the day my child would call me “Mom.” Now, I’d never get to hold my little one. As soon as I walked through the door, Mark greeted me with an angry glare. “Did you tell the hospital to call me?” I didn’t say anything, just sat down wearily on the couch. Seeing my silence, Mark frowned. “Sarah, do you know how busy I am?” “Lily’s puppy needs to be neutered tomorrow, and the vet still hasn’t confirmed the appointment. Do you know how stressed I am? Can’t you be more mature and stop bothering me?” I looked at Mark’s anxious expression and then down at the scrapes on my knees. Apparently, my life and my baby’s were worth less than Lily’s dog. Mark kept complaining, each word like a knife stabbing into my heart. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Mark,” I said. “Do you know that I almost died in the hospital just now?” He looked annoyed at my interruption, his eyes shifting to my flat stomach, his tone dismissive. “You weren’t even showing. A little fender-bender isn’t going to kill you.” I stared at Mark, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. He didn’t even know how far along I was. What he thought was “not showing” was actually the aftermath of losing our baby. Mark was about to say something else, but he caught sight of the cuts on my wrist and instinctively grabbed my hand. “What happened to your hand?” I used to cherish my hands. Mark always complimented them. But then, he decided he wanted to start his own business, and I started working five jobs to support him. My trendy hair color faded, and my makeup just collected dust on the vanity. I transformed from a young woman into a worn-out housewife. My hands went from delicate to rough and calloused. When Mark landed his first big order, he held my hands against his chest, tears streaming down his face. “Sarah,” he choked out, “I’ll never let you suffer again. I’ll take care of you and make your hands beautiful again.” His passionate words had burned away my last doubts. I followed him without regrets, but it had all led to this. I was about to speak when his phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, Mark quickly dropped my hand. His worried expression vanished, replaced by pure adoration. My heart twisted as I watched the love in his eyes. There was a time when Mark used to look at me that way, whispering sweet nothings on the phone. But now, he made no attempt to hide his affection for someone else. Tears welled up as I stared at him. In that moment, I understood that my marriage wasn’t just crumbling. Mark was rotting from the inside out. “Mark, let’s get a divorce.” 2. Mark blinked, then scoffed. “Sarah, are you kidding me? Is this some new tactic you’re trying? Divorce? You can’t leave me.” He laughed, a sound that mocked the ten years of my youth. I ignored him and texted my lawyer, urging him to hurry. Mark narrowed his eyes. “Alright, quit moping around. You’ll scare Lily. She’s leaving on a business trip tomorrow. Don’t make it difficult for her.” I looked at Mark and felt a chill. I’d never been unkind to Lily. Even after I found out about the affair, I tried to salvage what I could of our marriage. But now, they’d put me through hell, taken my baby, and I was being accused of being difficult. Seeing my silence, Mark added: “Where’s my medicine?” I glanced toward the kitchen. “It’s in there. Get it yourself.” A flicker of surprise crossed Mark’s face. I used to brew his herbal medicine with my own hands. He wouldn’t drink it unless I pleaded with him for hours. He frowned, his tone accusing. “What’s with the attitude? I just didn’t pick you up from the hospital. Do you have to be so dramatic?” I ignored his anger, focusing on the bloodstained ring on my finger, caressing it as if it were my love from ten years ago. I remembered a broke Mark buying me this ring and the shy look on his face. I almost laughed. Before I could say anything, the doorbell rang. Mark’s face lit up as he saw who was calling, quickly pushing me aside. All trace of worry had vanished, replaced by tender affection. It was Lily. She leaned against the doorframe in a revealing lace nightgown, looking innocent and helpless. “Honey, I forgot my keys. Can I crash at your place tonight?” Before I could answer, Mark pulled her into his arms. “You’re not dressed warmly enough. I’d hate for you to get sick.” Lily snuggled into Mark’s embrace, giving me a triumphant look. I found their display tiresome. I hated repeating myself. But I’d been brewing Mark’s medicine for seven years. Mark said he wanted to spend his life with only me. But he was now entertaining a different woman inside of our marriage. 3. Lily snuggled closer to Mark. “Honey, I can only sleep in the master bedroom. Can I sleep there tonight?” Mark looked at me. “Sarah, can you clear out the master bedroom? Lily has a business trip tomorrow and needs to get some rest.” I stared at the bed in our master bedroom. The first time Mark brought me here, I was worried my clothes would get the sheets dirty. I stood awkwardly, afraid to sit. But Mark had pulled me down onto the bed and held me close. He said: “Sarah, this is our home now. I’ll protect you from the storm.” Now, he was asking me to empty our room so he and another woman could nest. I walked into the bedroom and started packing away the remnants of our love. But when I saw the small crib, I burst into tears. Mark and I had picked it out during our first year together. He said that our baby’s things deserved to be the best. But now, everything was different. My baby was gone, and the crib was useless. I gathered the love letters and baby clothes, and threw them into a box. When I tried to collect the gifts Mark had given me, I realized that the letters were all he’d ever given me. I looked at the letters and laughed bitterly. My decade of dedication had bought me a few pieces of paper. I removed our framed wedding photo, and threw the letters and clothes into the trash. “What are you doing?” Mark’s voice came from behind me. He rushed over and pulled the things out of the trash, looking panicked. “Why are you throwing away my love letters? And this baby outfit! You loved this outfit!” He looked at me with the same anxious expression I’d seen when he’d held out my engagement ring and asked, “Can I have a chance to take care of you?” I’d cried and said, “Yes.” Now, I smiled and told him, “Lily won’t like them. And besides… ” I looked at the baby outfit. “Our baby won’t be able to wear it anyway.” Mark looked down. He ran his fingers over the yellowed envelope, just as I ran my fingers over the bloodstained ring. After a long pause, Mark released it. The letters and clothes fell back into the trash. He whispered, “Alright. It’s not like the love letters are worth anything. And the baby is small. The outfit is too big. We’ll buy a new one when she gets here.” I touched my stomach, the only place our baby had ever existed. Yeah, the ten-year-old love letters weren’t worth anything. Just like Mark’s love. 4. After I finished packing, Lily turned to Mark, eyes red. “Honey, I’m hungry. You said Sarah makes the best sweet and sour pork chops. Can I have some tonight?” Mark playfully stroked her nose and gave me a cold look. “Make Lily some sweet and sour pork chops. Quickly.” I quietly picked up my suitcase. “I’m not feeling well. I can’t.” Mark stared at me, shocked. It was the first time I’d refused him. He glared, “Sarah, what are you thinking? I just want you to make dinner for Lily. I’m not trying to divorce you. Can you not be so jealous? You’re going to be a mother soon. Can’t you be a little more generous?” He sounded like I was a violent criminal. The word “jealous” justified his relationship with Lily, crushing the promises Mark had made to me in our youth. He’d sat on the football field, love sparkling in his eyes. When he’d confessed, I joked: “I have standards. If you ever like another woman, I’ll hate you.” Mark nervously clutched the roses and said, “If I ever like someone else, punish me by never seeing me again.” Sometimes, I wondered if I’d imagined Mark loving me, or if he’d forgotten loving me. But it didn’t matter anymore. I calmly said, “Mark, let’s get a divorce.” Mark looked dismissive. “Still playing games? This isn’t how a mother should act. ” Anyone could say I was a bad mother, but not Mark. I stared at him, tears burning my eyes. “Do you think you’re a good father? If I knew it would come to this, I wish I’d never met you!” Mark paused, looking confused. Then, he frowned. “Why are you so angry? Anyone would think you had a miscarriage. How can you be a good mother acting like this?” An icy chill ran through me. My heart felt like it was trapped in ice. Mark’s coldness made me seem like a crazy person. Lily was giggling behind him. I knew that the marriage that had imprisoned me for ten years had come to an end. I smiled at Mark, the same smile I’d had when we first met. “You’re right, Mark.” Next, there was a loud thud. I slammed the miscarriage papers down on the table.

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It was on our fifth wedding anniversary that my husband, Hank, handed me divorce papers. “My mom’s really sick, like, not long for this world. Her dying wish is for me to divorce you,” he mumbled, avoiding my eyes. “I promise it’s just a temporary thing. As soon as she’s gone, we’ll get remarried, I swear,” he added, pleadingly. Looking at Hank’s haggard face, I caved and agreed. I was such a fool. Barely divorced, and Hank’s already plastered wedding photos with his high school sweetheart all over Facebook! And his supposedly terminally ill mom? Standing right there in the pics, looking healthier than ever! 1 “Sarah, when did you and Hank split up?” My best friend, Chloe, frowned, her eyes filled with concern. “Such a big deal, and you didn’t even tell me?” I was utterly confused, bordering on disbelief. Hank and I were supposed to be faking the divorce, keeping it under wraps. How did Chloe find out? “Where did you hear that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. Chloe’s eyes widened, her voice rising in disbelief. “Hank posted his marriage certificate with someone else all over Facebook! Where have you been?” She kept talking, but my brain just short-circuited. “Hank and a marriage certificate” kept echoing in my head, blocking out everything else. This couldn’t be happening. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. My voice trembled as I asked, “You’re kidding, right?” Hank and I had a good marriage, at least, I thought we did. The devastated look on his face when he suggested the fake divorce, every expression, every detail was burned into my memory. How could he suddenly be marrying someone else? But Chloe’s reply hit me like a ton of bricks, shattering the last vestiges of hope. “I’m not kidding, Sarah. It’s real!” Panic surged through me. I fumbled for my phone, my fingers shaking as I frantically tried to call Hank. But all I got was that cold, robotic voice: “The person you are trying to reach is currently on another call.” I frantically pulled up our text history, and realized it had been ages since he’d replied. The chat box was filled with messages I’d sent – little updates about my day, sweet nothings – now they just seemed like a cruel joke. Refusing to give up, I opened Facebook, only to find he’d blocked me. Chloe sent me the photo. My hands trembled as I tapped to open it. The woman in the picture was Tiffany, Hank’s high school sweetheart. I remembered seeing her at our wedding. Dressed to the nines, she looked more like the bride than I did, standing next to Hank, radiating confidence. I’d asked Hank if he still had feelings for Tiffany. He’d denied it flatly, a staunch and immediate no. But now, seeing them together in the photo, beaming with happiness, with that bright, celebratory backdrop… it felt like a knife twisting in my gut. Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. “Hank, say something!” “You wouldn’t do this, right? They’re lying, aren’t they? You didn’t marry someone else, did you?” But my messages vanished into the digital void, unanswered. I was completely devastated. I stumbled to the hospital, only to find that Hank’s mom had never even been admitted. When Hank told me she was sick, he’d choked up several times, struggling to get the words out. He’d lost weight in those few days, and it was heartbreaking to watch. Was it all an elaborate lie, a carefully crafted scheme? If he had a change of heart, couldn’t he have just told me? I wasn’t going to chain him to me. I desperately needed to talk to Hank, to get some answers. But it hit me then. Apart from the time his mom stayed with us, I didn’t even know where he lived. Desperate, I went to his office. His colleagues told me he was on leave, prepping for his wedding. When Hank and I planned our wedding, I’d handled everything – buying the house, the renovations, picking the dress, setting up the venue. Hank said he was too busy at work to take time off. Looking back, it wasn’t about being busy. It was about me not being important enough for him to take time off work. The more something remains unanswered, the more driven you are to find the truth. I requested a leave of absence from work and went on a frantic search for Hank. I looked everywhere I could think of, everywhere he might be, but he was nowhere to be found. Finally, Chloe told me the date of Hank’s wedding. And so, after our sham divorce, I saw Hank for the first time. At his wedding. To someone else. I stood in the back, watching Hank slip a diamond ring on Tiffany’s finger. His smile was brighter than the sun, but it felt like a slap in the face. His mom, the one who’d been practically on her deathbed, was standing next to him, looking spry and joyful. She looked nothing like the woman who always looked at me with disdain! “Hank!” My voice was raspy and trembling with anger and hurt. My shout must’ve startled him because Hank froze and slowly turned around. His smile vanished the moment he saw me, replaced by a look of panic and embarrassment. His mom saw what was happening and hurried over, pushing me, saying, “Everyone, carry on, let’s not ruin the happy occasion.” I dodged her hands, my eyes locked on Hank. Tears were already welling up. “What is going on? You said it was a temporary divorce! You said your mom was dying and wanted to see you happy!” With each word, I took a step closer to Hank. Each step added to my pain. I was a mess. The Hank in the tailored suit looked as handsome as the day I met him. But in that moment, he felt like a complete stranger. Time flies. But what hurts most is that he was no longer the man who was head over heels for me. Chloe shielded me from the curious, gossiping crowd, finally clearing a path to Hank. “Sarah, can we talk about this after the wedding? Please?” Hank’s voice was urgent, his eyes darting around. “It’s not what you think. I can explain.” I looked at him, my heart heavy with bitterness and anger. I laughed, a cold, humorless sound. “Hank, are you just trying to get me out of here so you can keep up the charade?” We stood there, locked in place, the air thick with tension. Then Tiffany walked over and linked her arm through Hank’s, the smugness of a victor etched on her face. “Sarah, before you start interrogating Hank, maybe you should look in the mirror,” she said. “He was married to you for five years, and you couldn’t give him a child. My son with him is already five years old.” “What?” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, my body frozen, my mind blank. Chloe lost it, exploding in rage. “You two are scum! You were cheating five years ago, Hank! You even had a kid with her! You’ve been faking it all this time, marrying our Sarah. What kind of a sick game is this? You son of a bitch!” Hank and I had been together since college. After graduation, I gave up everything in my hometown and moved to his city so we could be together. In the beginning, he was perfect. He took care of the house, and he was so sweet and thoughtful. But over time, things changed. He grew distant, saying our love had turned into a comfortable companionship, and we didn’t need to try as hard anymore. Like an idiot, I believed him. I actually thought love could just naturally evolve into a companionship. Now I realized he’d given his love to someone else. All I got was a lame excuse for a relationship. “Hank, is it true?” A chill ran through me. My need for answers dissipated. He looked down, hesitating before muttering, “Yeah.” “Okay, I understand.” My heart shattered into a million pieces. Turning to Chloe, I said, “Chloe, let’s go.” At this point, the only thing I could do was salvage what was left of my pride. But Hank actually left Tiffany and chased after me, grabbing my arm. “Sarah, I have a reason, don’t be mad.” “I’ll explain after the wedding,” he said desperately. “What’s there to explain!” Chloe shoved Hank’s hand away, pulling me with her. She ranted about Hank the whole way, trying to make me feel better. But I didn’t want to hear anything. When we pulled up to her place, I stopped her mid-sentence, “Chloe, go home. I’ll pack my things and come over later.” “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” She looked at me, concerned. I managed a smile, trying to reassure her. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” We’d had some good times. Sarah could move on. And now that the temporary divorce had become a real one, there were things I couldn’t let go of. Things that were mine. I needed to get them back. The house I lived in was bought before we were married, and it was mine and mine alone. I decided to sell the house and use the money to go home and be with my parents. When the real estate agent brought someone to view the house, Hank showed up unannounced. He saw the man in the house and started yelling. “Sarah, we’re only temporarily divorced. How can you bring another man into our house?” I couldn’t be bothered to deal with him. I arranged for the real estate agent to come back another day and politely saw him out. But Hank wouldn’t let it go. He blocked the doorway. “We need to get this straight, or nobody’s going anywhere.” When we were dating, I’d only seen the good in him. His flaws were quirky and endearing. Now, without the rose-colored glasses, I realized how awful he was. “We’re divorced. You have no say in my life.” I pushed past him, apologizing to the agent before seeing him out. When I went back inside, Hank was still standing in the entryway, fuming. “Sarah, we agreed it was just a temporary divorce!” I stared at him like he was crazy. “Did you forget you got married again?” “I had my reasons, and Tiffany and I’s wedding was a sham, too. The kid was an accident, I don’t know how it happened.” “My mom found out about the kid and said she was on her deathbed and wanted to spend some time with her grandchild.” Hank spouted excuse after excuse, acting like it was my fault for not understanding. But his excuses meant nothing to me. I didn’t want to hear them. And, from what I saw at the wedding, his mom was doing just fine. “Hank, since the temporary divorce is a real divorce now, we need to divide up the property. I’ve hired a lawyer.” “As for this house, it was mine to begin with. I’m selling it, and you can’t come here anymore.”

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The day I was supposed to be celebrating my wedding, my husband went bust playing cards, losing almost all the money we’d saved for our future. Instead of a sweet wedding night, he was outside the bedroom door, practically begging for forgiveness. So, here I was, alone in bed, wide awake. The next morning, I was dressed and ready to go, holding the deed to our house. “This is how we get our lives back,” I said calmly, placing the deed in front of him. “Take it and play one last hand.” 1 “Babe, please, don’t do this! I swear I’ll never gamble again. Just believe me one more time!” Mark was on his knees, tears streaming down his face. “I’m cutting ties with those guys. I mean it.” He slapped himself, hard. Even when his lip started bleeding, he didn’t stop. Seeing him like that, I felt a pang of guilt. I’d actually heard that Dave, one of the groomsmen, had won a bundle playing Texas Hold’em, and was planning a celebratory dinner. A little card game at a wedding is no big deal. But my husband, who usually wouldn’t even buy scratch-offs, had lost all our wedding money. He’d been set up. The thought made me clench my fists. “Promises are cheap, Mark. You blew twenty grand in one night. How long do you think it’ll take to earn that back?” I didn’t want to tell him the real reason, I just wanted to teach him a lesson. His face went white, filled with shame. After a long pause, he turned and pulled out our marriage certificate, handing it to me. “Honey, maybe we should just get a divorce. I don’t want to drag you down with me.” Seeing the tears in his eyes, I decided to give him another chance. I helped Mark to his feet and immediately grabbed my phone. “Loan. Get a loan, whatever we can, with the payback date set for tomorrow.” Mark just stared, dumbfounded. “Honey… you…” Before he could say anything else, I grabbed the cash and headed to the poker game. “Don’t say a word. Just follow my lead.” When we got there, the same group was still playing, including Dave. I didn’t say anything, just sat down. “Dave, you’ve won enough, right? Can’t you spare a little for me?” Dave saw us and grinned. “What’s this? Back for more?” “If you’re offering yourselves up, who am I to refuse? But let’s get one thing straight: if you lose again, you pay back everything, including what your husband already owes.” Dave’s words didn’t bother me. Instead, I smiled. “Deal. But I have a condition.” I changed my tone. “Let’s raise the stakes. The minimum bet is a grand a hand.” Dave laughed. “Haha, never thought anyone would hand money over this way! You think you can win?” I might have thought it, but I couldn’t let them see it. I stayed cool and looked at Dave. “It ain’t over ’til it’s over. My husband’s luck was crap, doesn’t mean mine will be too.” Dave smirked. “You’ll regret those words.” I smiled, noncommittal. “Anything can happen before the cards are dealt, right?” I didn’t say anything else and sat across from Dave. I could see his face from this position. “Deal the cards, then. Let’s see what happens.” 2 As soon as the cards were dealt, I glanced at mine and slammed ten grand – fresh from the bank – onto the table. “First day of marriage, let’s start with ten grand to feel it out.” My husband immediately grabbed my arm. “Honey, don’t! Those are high stakes! We lose that, and we’re done for.” I ignored him, grinning and holding up my cards so Dave could see the King. He hesitated, surprised by my boldness. Seeing his reaction, I kept pushing. “Hey, Dave, you won, like, fifty grand from my husband! You gonna chicken out over a grand?” “Mark said that no matter how high the stakes are, you’re a guy that would come in for more, but when it gets to me, you’re a chicken?” “Or you think you’re not as skilled, so you want to give up this hand?” I raised my voice, practically screaming: “I’m gonna win!” “Alright, alright, I give! A pair of Kings? I don’t think you’d get so lucky every time!” Dave then threw his cards down onto the table. It was a pair of Queens and an Ace. That’s a pretty good hand in this game. Pairs are hard to get. Everyone thought I had a pair of Kings, so they all gave up. But I deliberately exposed my three cards. “Oh, whoops, sorry! I read it wrong. It wasn’t a pair of Kings after all!” When I showed my cards, Dave slammed a hand on the table. “Holy crap! Just a straight flush! What were you yelling for?” I pretended to be nervous, scratching my head. “Sorry, sorry! First time playing for so much! Got a little carried away.” I gathered the cash. Even though no one called me, the rules let me get a few grand for compensation. Dave got it then. I was using a classic psychological tactic. Be bold enough, and even a stronger player will chicken out. This failure made him see me as more than a novice. But the same trick only works once. This was a showdown of true skill. Even though he only lost a grand, he was seething. “So, you wanna play mind games? Let’s go!” He rolled up his sleeves, all fired up. “C’mon, let’s see if you can back up your big talk.” Seeing him losing it, I calmly raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get all worked up, Dave. Maybe you’ll get lucky next time.” My taunt made him even angrier. He practically jumped to his feet. “Enough talk! Deal the cards!” The gambler’s high was in full swing. He’d made a killing with his big bankroll, and now he was losing to me, a woman borrowing money. He had to be pissed. I was secretly laughing. When the second hand was dealt, I didn’t even bother looking at my cards. I just pulled out my phone to kill time. Dave, still smarting from the last round, peeked at his cards first. I watched him from my screen, waiting for him to say something. I moved quickly, “Congrats, Dave. This game is mine, you can go right ahead.” 3 I threw down my cards, and everyone was stunned. No one expected me to fold without even looking at my hand. This wasn’t just any game. Folding meant throwing away a grand. Seeing the grand I had earned disappear, my husband couldn’t help but ask, “Honey, what are you doing? At least check your cards, you might have something good!” I tapped the table, still calm. “Honey, we can’t beat him this round.” Dave slammed the table. “What’s going on? Folding without looking? You look down on us?” The others glared at me. I calmly revealed my cards. “Guys, I really didn’t want to do this, but the cards were bad.” They saw my hand: 2, 3, 5. “Oh man, with cards like that, give it up.” “She’s just got bad luck, I hate it when I get cards like that.” “Wait, how did she know her cards were bad? She never turned over her cards.” Finally, someone saw that I had never moved my hand. Now, my husband was staring. I leaned back in my chair and said, “Everyone, I never left my spot, you won’t think I’m cheating.” They watched, “She’s right, from the deal she’s only touched the table.” Dave just looked down and didn’t say anything. I gave up on the next hands. The money I had won was all gone. My husband was anxious, “Honey, this can’t go on, what if we never get good cards? I think we should leave now.” I slapped his back. “Calm down, we haven’t earned our money back yet. I know what I’m doing.” When I put the money onto the table, they told me to stop. I smiled and didn’t say anything, Dave was excited. They thought that I was giving up, I put all my money onto the table. “Sorry guys, I have to go all in.” That was roughly ten grand. If I won, I would earn my money back. This game, I had to win it. Luck was on my side, Dave got the winnings. His expression changed. He thought I had good cards. He looked at his hand. I just looked at him. They all backed down. Only Dave was left. He said, “I won’t let you get to me.” He threw his cards down. “I’m in!” I was throwing everything away. Dave said, “I will make you go broke.” He put in another ten grand. There were now fifty grand on the table, it wasn’t my end goal yet, but I didn’t rush. I had him, he was going to fall into my trap. 4 “Dave, are you confident with your cards? How about we bet something bigger?” I grabbed my deed. “This house should be worth fifty grand.” Everyone gasped. My husband shouted, “What are you doing? Stop doing this, you’ll lose everything.” “Where would we live?” I just waved. “Mark, grow up, you are always so scared! Now is the time to go all in!” “Say that I lose, what if I win? We’d get all of our money back!” My husband didn’t stop, I glared at him. Dave’s eyes lit up. “Honey, once we bet, there’s no going back.” I grabbed the deed and put it on the table. “It’s just a house, I can play with it.” They surrounded the table. Dave nodded. “Great! I’m in with you! It’s just fifty grand.” He grabbed a bag from the back and put it on the table. I looked, and it was fifty grand. With my move, the pot was over a million. “Honey, are you in? If you don’t have the money, you have to give up half.” Dave looked at me, he thought that I had no choice. I laughed. “Who said I didn’t have money? I’m sitting here, aren’t I?” The people were in shock. “She’s crazy, who would bet themselves?” “Mark lost money yesterday, this family has lost it.” Mark, my husband looked at me, “What are you doing? If you……” I stopped him. “Do you want me to take care of you?” I threw the marriage certificate on the table. “Dave, if you win, I’m yours!”

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