Chapter 1

On our tenth wedding anniversary, my phone chimed with a bank alert for a hundred-thousand-dollar luxury jewelry purchase.

A second later, my wife's male assistant sent me a photo of two hands with fingers tightly intertwined.

I stared at the matching diamond bands in the picture and quietly froze her authorized user card.

Moments later, the assistant called me in tears, begging me not to get the wrong idea.

"Kellan, it's all my fault! I texted the wrong person. Please don't take it out on Yvette!"

Over the line, Yvette's voice softened as she comforted him.

"Don't worry about him, Jared. He's not going anywhere. He's been my loyal little lapdog for years."

I hung up the phone and called my lawyer to draft a divorce settlement.

Three years of dating and ten years of marriage were officially over. I was done being her pathetic pet.

1.

I waited in the dark until midnight before Yvette finally came home.

Before I could even mention the word divorce, she kicked me hard in the chest, trembling with rage.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Freezing my card just to force me to come home?!"

I collapsed onto the floor, clutching my stomach as a wave of nausea and blinding pain hit me.

I had been waiting since dusk without eating a single bite.

"Answer me! I kicked your chest, so why are you grabbing your damn stomach?!"

She grabbed the dinner bowls from the table and dumped the cold food straight over my head.

"Eat, eat, eat! All you ever do is beg me to come home and eat! I'm sick to death of your cooking!"

Greasy leftovers and cold rice slid down my face and soaked into my collar.

"I'm back now, so stop playing dead!"

She kicked me again, sending me curling into a ball on the floor.

A violent spasm twisted through my gut as cold sweat broke out across my forehead.

With trembling hands, I weakly reached out to grab her ankle.

"Yvette... my stomach hurts so bad... Can you please take me to the ER?"

"Your stomach hurts? Ha! Besides throwing tantrums and faking sickness, what else are you good for?"

She scoffed and ruthlessly kicked my hand away.

At that moment, a heavy sense of tragedy and absurdity washed over me.

I had loved this woman for a decade, cooking every meal and abandoning my own career for her.

I had even spent five full years caring for her sick mother without a single complaint.

And in the end, what did I get in return?

I dragged myself up from the cold floor.

Black spots danced across my vision, and the agony in my abdomen nearly made me pass out.

Leaning against the wall, I shuffled toward the sofa and collapsed onto it.

Yvette stared at me with pure disgust, without an ounce of warmth or concern in her eyes.

"Go ahead and play the victim all night. I'm going to bed."

She turned on her heel and slammed the bedroom door shut.

I grabbed my phone from the couch cushions and dialed 911.

After hanging up, my phone buzzed with an Instagram notification from Yvette's private feed.

The photo showed her in a silk slip, hair draped over her shoulders with bedroom eyes.

Her caption read: "The whole city is asleep, but I'm wide awake with heavy thoughts."

Right below, Jared commented: "Come sleep in my arms."

Yvette replied with a blowing-kiss emoji.

Our anniversary was completely ruined.

Just like our ten-year marriage.

I barely remembered crawling to unlock the front door for the paramedics.

All I recalled was being lifted onto the stretcher as Yvette stepped out of the bedroom, rubbing her eyes in annoyance.

"Keep it down," she grumbled coldly. "You're ruining my sleep."

A single tear slid down my temple.