Chapter 3

3

He didn't say a word, but his reaction told me everything I needed to know.

I was done playing this exhausting game.

I shoved his hand away, my face twisted with pure disgust.

"Enough. Cut the pathetic acting, Lucian."

"You use the same tired tricks over and over again."

"You might not be bored of it, but I'm nauseous."

I grabbed my suitcase and walked toward the door without looking back.

I stepped out and pulled the door shut behind me.

As the lock clicked, I heard him let out a blood-curdling scream of rage and despair.

It was a haunting sound, full of lost control.

I didn't hesitate for a second. I didn't even slow my pace.

I dragged my suitcase through the dim hallway of the apartment building.

The elevator descended slowly, and I saw my reflection in the mirrored walls.

I looked tired, but for the first time in years, I looked peaceful.

When I stepped out of the building, the night breeze hit my face, clearing the fog in my head.

I took a deep breath of the cool air.

It was the first time in five years I felt like I could actually breathe.

This marriage―this long, draining nightmare of tests and manipulation―was finally over.

I found a hotel nearby and checked into a room.

After I showered, I lay on the bed, but sleep wouldn't come.

Memories of the last five years played in my mind like a horror movie.

When we first started dating, he was so different. He was sweet, kind, and attentive.

He used to bring me takeout when I worked late at the office.

He took care of me when I was sick, staying by my side all night.

He'd look at me and say, "Vanessa, you're the only one for me."

Back then, I thought I'd found the love of my life.

I worked my ass off to give him a comfortable life.

I gave him everything he asked for, wanting him to be happy.

I thought we'd grow old together in a perfect little suburban bubble.

I never imagined that marriage would turn him into a monster.

He became paranoid, sensitive, and obsessed with control.

He hated it if I talked to any other man.

He threw fits if I came home late, even if it was for a major business meeting.

He started snooping through my phone, my purse, and even my laundry.

At first, I thought he was just insecure because he loved me so much.

I was patient. I reassured him constantly.

But my kindness only made him push harder. He started setting traps.

He'd mention other women just to see if I'd get jealous.

He faked those intimate photos and texts just to provoke me.

He'd stay out late and come home smelling of perfume just to make me suspicious.

Every time, I'd fall for it. I'd scream, I'd cry, I'd demand answers.

And every time, he'd play the innocent victim, saying he just wanted to "test" my love.

"Vanessa, I'm just so scared of losing you," he'd whimper.

"Please forgive me. I'll never do it again."

I fell for that cycle of abuse over and over.

I thought if I was just patient enough, he'd eventually change.

God, I was so wrong.

He didn't change; he just got more creative with his cruelty.

His tests became more humiliating and more painful.

I became a nervous wreck, constantly walking on eggshells.

I lost sleep, I lost weight, and I lost my faith in love.

The breaking point was seeing him walk into a hotel with a stranger.

I lost my mind. I stormed in there and confronted him.

And he just laughed. He told me it was the "ultimate test."

He said if I could forgive him for that, we'd be good forever.

That was the moment my heart finally died.

I knew there was nothing left to save.

I stopped fighting. I stopped asking questions.

I walked away in silence and started the paperwork.

I was done letting him bleed me dry.

I thought the divorce would be a simple exit.

I thought once I caught him in his biggest lie, he'd just back off.

But I had no idea how low he was willing to sink.