After the miscarriage, I lay in the ICU for an entire month. Meanwhile, my husband was off traveling around with his so-called “true love.” It wasn’t until he decided to divorce me that he remembered I existed. He called my mom, demanding to know how long I was going to “keep making trouble”. My mother looked at me, her daughter teetering on the edge of death, and said bitterly, “She won’t bother you anymore. Are you happy now?” ***** I was admitted to the ICU. That same day, the day I lost the baby, I was dying—massive blood loss, organ damage. And the cruelest part? The one who caused all of this was none other than my husband, Dominick Vanderbilt. The day everything went wrong for me was his birthday. I had prepared a table full of his favorite dishes, baked a cake from scratch, and decorated the house to look incredibly romantic. On top of all the designer gifts, I had something special and priceless for Dominick—a gift I’d been waiting years to give. I was pregnant. After five years of trying, we finally had this hard-won miracle. I thought this baby would be a miracle for us—a gift to celebrate his birthday and a lifeline to save our crumbling marriage. That was why I chose his birthday to share the news. I was so sure it would change everything. But when he came home from work, he just quickly changed his clothes and said Madison Blair had been admitted to the hospital and needed someone by her side. Then, without a second thought, he turned to leave again. I grabbed his arm, unable to believe what I was hearing. “Dominick, I worked so hard on this… And I… I have something really important to tell you.” Dominick shook me off and said coldly, “Peyton, Maddy’s in the hospital alone. I have to go.” The warmth drained from my face instantly. Ever since Madison came back into his life, it was like she’d stolen his soul. Madison, the one who got away, his so-called first love, had always held a unique and irreplaceable place in Dominick’s heart. Realizing this, I slowly let my hand drop and asked bitterly, “Dominick, is Madison really that important to you? Is she more important than me?” Dominick shot me an impatient look. “Can you not start with your nonsense right now? Madison saved my life back then. She’s in trouble now; what’s wrong with me helping her out?” He didn’t even wait for me to argue. Instead, he cut me off before I could speak, saying, “Madison and I are clean—nothing has ever happened between us. If you keep doubting me like this, there’s no way we can go on living together.” His gaze turned cold like he was staring at an enemy rather than his wife. Anger boiled inside me, and I reached out to grab Dominick, desperate to stop him. But he shoved me away without hesitation. The door slammed as he walked out, never once looking back. I stumbled and lost my balance, hitting the corner of the table hard before collapsing to the floor. Pain shot through me in waves. I could feel my body trembling uncontrollably before everything went dark. When I woke up again, I was standing—of all places—at the edge of my own hospital bed. I looked down at myself, pale and covered in tubes. My face was expressionless, hollow. It hit me then. When a person hovers between life and death, their unrelenting obsessions can turn into a spirit, forcing them to become a silent spectator of the world they can’t quite leave behind. I wanted to cry but couldn’t. Seeing my mother outside the ward, her hair snow-white after just one night, ripped my heart to shreds. And when I realized Dominick was the one responsible for all of this, that burning sense of injustice pulled me like a magnet—I found myself standing right by his side. Dominick was in another hospital at the time. He sat by Madison’s bedside, his hand wrapped gently around hers, his expression full of worry. “Don’t worry. Just focus on getting better. I’ll take care of everything else.” Madison gave him a weak smile and, using what little strength she had, rested her head on his shoulder. “Dom, I’m so lucky to have you. Without you, I really don’t know what I’d do…” Feeling her dependence, he smiled in satisfaction as though this was exactly where he belonged. Madison nestled closer to him and pouted softly, “But Dom, if you’re always here with me, won’t Peyton get upset?” When Dominick heard my name, his face twisted into a scowl, his voice dripping with disdain. “Who cares? She’s always picking fights for no reason, accusing me of being unfaithful to her and looking for any excuse to argue. Tell me, who could stand living like that? If it comes to it, I’ll just divorce her and be done with it!”
Dominick stayed with Madison until her IV drip was finished and then took her home. I could see that Madison didn’t want him to leave, and honestly, he didn’t seem like he wanted to go either. Madison clung to his arm, looking heartbreakingly fragile. “Dom, I’ve been feeling really down lately. Once I feel better in a couple of days, can you take me out somewhere?” Dominick’s face softened with obvious affection. “Of course I can.” Madison’s father had recently declared bankruptcy due to poor business decisions. She’d gone from the privileged heiress of a wealthy family to someone struggling to get by. Dominick understood her struggles and heartbreak. To make matters worse, her emotional turmoil was taking a toll on her health—she seemed to be in pain all the time, one place hurting today, another tomorrow. It was as if her body couldn’t bear the burden. Dominick only wanted to take care of her. “Maddy, just tell me where you want to go, and I’ll make it happen. You know I have the means to take care of you now.” Madison’s expression lit up with joy. “Thanks, Dom. You have no idea how much that means to me.” I stood there, right in front of them, listening to every word, but all I could do was give a bitter smile. Dominick’s job kept him swamped. When we got married, we didn’t even take a honeymoon. In the five years we’d been together, he never once suggested taking me on a trip. He hardly even had the time to go shopping with me—those moments were rare, painfully so. I understood how hard he worked. So, I never complained and never asked for more. I poured all my energy into being a good wife, taking care of him in every way I could. But what did I get in return? His cold indifference. His absence. I’d tried, I really had, to reignite something between us. I wore makeup, bought beautiful dresses—tried to look the way I thought Dominick might notice. But it was all pointless. Because the moment Madison entered the picture, I stopped existing in his eyes. Every time he abandoned me, abandoned our family, to be with her, I’d pick a fight. I couldn’t help it. And every time, he’d either freeze me out or turn it around, calling me childish and unreasonable. When I was alive, I couldn’t fight him on this. And now, as I hover so close to death, I still can’t. Dominick spent the night at Madison’s place. They didn’t share a bed, but the subtle tension between them had already deepened. The next day, I followed Dominick out. I watched as a man who had always prioritized work spent the entire day on the phone during office hours, meticulously arranging every detail of an extravagant trip. From booking first-class flights to reserving five-star hotels, he handled everything personally, leaving nothing to chance. Once he was done, he happily prepared for the upcoming trip with Madison. It was as if my existence meant nothing to him. He didn’t know my condition—didn’t care to know—and acted as though he’d forgotten I was his wife altogether. While my mother sat by my bedside, crying every night for me, the man I had loved my whole life was off enjoying himself with another woman. I watched as they visited the most popular tourist cities, sampled exotic foods, and Dominick took countless beautiful photos of Madison. Dominick treated her with the utmost respect. He insisted on booking two separate rooms every night and tiptoed around her, careful not to cross any lines. His restraint made it clear—he treasured her. Seeing the constant glow of happiness on Madison’s face, I felt nothing. There wasn’t even a hint of jealousy left in me. I didn’t believe in them. Even if they did end up together, I knew they wouldn’t last. Men like Dominick, who lose interest the moment they get what they want, were incapable of holding onto happiness. I quietly trailed them for a month. When the trip finally ended, Dominick returned home, exhausted and ready to rest. But when he opened the front door, he was greeted by the rotting stench of spoiled leftovers on the dining table and a dark, dried pool of blood on the floor. The house was a wreck. The air reeked of something sour and putrid. Dominick, who had always been a clean freak, turned pale with disgust at the sight. Without a second thought, he pulled out his phone and called me. He didn’t notice my phone sitting dead on the sofa, shut off because the battery had run out days ago. One call. No answer. Two calls. Still nothing. Three calls. Silence. On the fourth call, when it went straight to voicemail, Dominick finally lost his patience. He exploded. “Peyton Reeves! If you want a divorce, just say it. There’s no need for this stupid silent treatment. Look at this place. It’s disgusting! If you have the guts, come back here right now. We’ll go file for divorce immediately!”
Response to Dominick came in the form of cold, lifeless beeps over the line. After a few seconds of stunned silence, he angrily stuffed his phone back into his pocket and stormed out the door again. He went back to Madison’s place. Even though he had been traveling with his beloved for a month, the packed itinerary was beginning to wear on Dominick. When he mentioned wanting to eat, Madison immediately chimed in, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, “I’ll order takeout then. What do you feel like eating, Dom?” For a split second, an almost imperceptible look of distaste flickered across Dominick’s face. Days of eating at restaurants and street stalls had taken their toll—his stomach had been protesting for a while now. Not that Madison would ever notice. But he smoothed out his expression quickly, giving her a doting smile. “Anything’s fine. Just order whatever you like.” I knew what Dominick truly wanted right now—a homemade meal. A refreshing salad and braised beef—the kind that wasn’t overly greasy or rich. Dominick had a sensitive stomach and a strict palate—he liked his food light, with plenty of restrictions. I was the only one who could remember every little detail about what he liked and didn’t like. No scallions, ginger, or garlic. He avoided peanut oil like the plague. He refused organ meats and hated fish with too many bones. I knew which dishes needed a delicate touch and which ones needed to be rich and flavorful. Every detail about his diet, I had it down to a science. Back then, whenever Dominick had been out for days of social engagements, he would always come home with an upset stomach, vomiting, and running to the bathroom for no apparent reason. During those times, all it took was the simplest homemade meal from me to calm his stomach—and his mood—effortlessly. But he never noticed what I did for him—or how much thought I put into it. In his mind, since he was the one making money, since he was the one “providing” for this household, everything I did was just expected. Of course, Madison was different. In Dominick’s eyes, she was a pampered heiress, her hands too precious to ever hold a kitchen knife. The fact that she didn’t cook? Completely normal. Understandable, even. After all, her hands were more valuable than diamonds. When the delivery arrived, I watched him poking around with a fork in the takeout box, hesitating and picking at the food without really eating. Madison asked innocently, “Do you not like this stuff, Dom?” Dominick smiled faintly and shook his head, though a flicker of disappointment still crossed his face. Madison, sharp-eyed, noticed something was off and pressed again. “Dom, it feels like you’re not into these trendy dishes at all. What do you actually like? I’ll order more of that next time.” He then described his preferences as if they were nothing, saying, “I’m not picky. A plain Caesar salad, light braised beef—those are good enough for me.” His tone was casual, but there was something hard to define in his expression. It lingered in his eyes for just a second before disappearing. I wanted so badly to tell Dominick that even a simple Caesar salad and braised beef weren’t as easy to make as he thought. But then again, it didn’t really matter anymore. Whether he knew or not wouldn’t change the fact that I’d already given up on him. He barely ate anything from that meal. Afterward, he cleaned up the takeout containers half-heartedly and took the trash downstairs. I watched as he tossed the bag into the bin and then pulled out his phone again. I watched as Dominick tried calling my phone again. Three times in a row. Each time, the automated voice told him the phone was turned off. Growing frustrated, he became visibly agitated, pacing back and forth while scrolling through his contacts over and over. But he didn’t know a thing about my social circle, nor did he recognize any of my friends. After I quit my job, I’d lost touch with most of my former colleagues, too. When his search turned up nothing, Dominick finally dialed my mom. The moment someone picked up, his frustration boiled over. He demanded furiously, “How long is your daughter planning to keep this up? Tell Peyton this nonsense has to stop. If she keeps acting like this, I’ll divorce her!” My mom never knew that, in this marriage, I was the one who constantly tolerated Dominick and compromised for him. To stop her from worrying, every time she asked, I always told her over and over, “Mom, don’t worry, I’m really happy. Dominick loves me so much. He’d never let me suffer. Besides, I wouldn’t let myself be mistreated either.” She always believed me without hesitation. But now, faced with this brutal reality, my mom was heartbroken. “Are you even human, Dominick? Your wife’s been lying in the ICU for a month, and not only do you ignore her, but you’re calling this nonsense?” It was the first time I’d ever heard my mother’s voice so sharp and loud. In my memory, my mom had always been gentle, a little timid even. But now, this woman—my mother—was standing up against the world for me, her voice fierce and cutting. “Dominick, you heartless bastard! You don’t deserve my daughter!” Dominick looked stunned, caught off guard by the verbal assault. But he quickly snapped back, his anger flaring, “Stop spouting this nonsense, you old hag! How the hell could Peyton be in the ICU for a month? Isn’t it enough for her to stir up trouble on her own? Now she’s dragging you into it, too? This is ridiculous!” For a second, I caught a flicker of disbelief on his face. But beneath that was contempt, doubt, and sheer annoyance. It was at this moment I finally realized just how cruel and cold a man could be. My mom, enraged by Dominick’s heartless words, screamed back at him, her voice cracking, “Dominick, even if my daughter dies and becomes a ghost, she won’t forgive you. And not just her—if I die, I’ll come back as a vengeful spirit and haunt you too!” Dominick’s hand clenched his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white, the veins in his neck bulging. “Shut up! Peyton can’t be dead! Tell her to get out here and face me. If she’s gonna die, she better divorce me first.”
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