Chapter 1

Five years of marriage, and my husband's secretary, Kinsley Reed, just posted a screenshot on Instagram. It showed a bank transfer for $52,131.40.

Her caption read: "When your boss is this generous, work is just so sweet! #Blessed"

I left a simple comment telling her to focus on her work. Seconds later, I realized she had blocked me.

Then, my husband's name flashed on my screen. He didn't even say hello before he started screaming.

"I just gave her an early bonus for her birthday! Why the hell are you harassing her in her DMs? Aria, my patience is not an excuse for you to be this crazy!"

In the background, I could hear the entire office comforting her. Kinsley was letting out soft, forced sighs, playing the victim perfectly.

I didn't even get a chance to explain before he hung up and blocked my number.

Minutes later, she posted again. It was a transfer for a hundred thousand dollars this time.

I knew Marcus was trying to compensate her for my "harassment."

But this time, I didn't care anymore.

1

When Marcus Sterling walked through the door, I was just throwing away the trash from my cheap takeout.

The doctor had told me to stick to a bland diet after my surgery for a malignant stomach tumor. I shouldn't have eaten that spicy food, but I did it anyway.

Today was our fifth wedding anniversary. I had discharged myself from the hospital early just to be home.

I even booked a high-end restaurant for a candlelit dinner.

I had waited all day for him to reply to my messages. If I hadn't seen Kinsley's post and received that hateful phone call, I'd probably still be sitting at that restaurant like a fool.

Marcus glanced at the empty dining table and frowned with annoyance.

"No dinner tonight?" he asked, his voice cold.

I nodded slowly, my fingers scrolling through my phone.

"You already ate out, didn't you?"

In the past, no matter how busy I was, I would have cooked his favorite meal. If he even slightly frowned, I would have felt like the world was ending.

A submissive heart never wins equal love. I finally understood that.

Marcus didn't even notice I was acting differently. He walked over and opened a boxed cake.

"I picked this up for you. I remembered our anniversary was coming up. You don't like sweets anyway, so this is just for the gesture."

He pushed a mangled cake toward me. It was clearly a leftover. There were visible dents where pieces of fruit had been picked off.

He never realized that I actually hated desserts.

I only loved the anniversary cakes because they symbolized our happiness. For years, I ate the cakes he called trash just to keep the dream alive.

Now, I just glanced at it and went back to my phone.

My indifference caught him off guard. His brow furrowed with impatience.

"Aria Sterling, what is this attitude? I went out of my way to bring this home, and you're starting drama again? When does it end?"

"I don't want things other people have touched," I said quietly. "It's filthy."

Right then, his phone chimed. He looked down and a small, almost invisible smile touched his lips.

I didn't need to guess who it was. When he looked back at me, his eyes were cold again, but filled with a secret excitement.

"Fine! I'll go out and buy you a fresh one myself! You don't even like it, yet you're being so picky. I work all day and come home to this face. I really don't owe you this!"

He turned to leave. I remembered I had been in such a rush to leave the hospital that I forgot my meds.

I got up and started putting on my shoes. Marcus looked at me like I was a stalker.

"I'm going to the pharmacy," I said firmly. "Drop me off on your way."

He bristled like a threatened animal.

"I'm just buying a cake and you're following me? Are you sick? Why don't you just put a leash on my neck?"

I understood his anger. In the past, I would ask a thousand questions whenever he left at night.

But he was overthinking it this time. I sighed. "There's a pharmacy one block away. Just drop me there. I have zero interest in tracking you."

In the car, I saw him quickly ordering a blueberry cake for pickup on his phone.

Maybe he forgot that he was the one who insisted on the anniversary tradition years ago. Now, I was just a burden to his fun.

I got out at the pharmacy. He looked at me with a hint of surprise, his rage slightly cooling.

"Wait here after you're done. I'll pick you up," he said.

Then he sped off. Muddy water splashed onto my legs. I wiped it off, feeling disgusted, and walked inside.

I waited outside the pharmacy for two hours. My body went numb in the night air, but there was no sign of him.

A crack of thunder shook the sky. Before I could call an Uber, a torrential downpour soaked me to the bone.

My surgical wound began to throb. I ran to a convenience store to buy an umbrella, but the damage was done.

The pain in my stomach was so sharp I had to crouch on the sidewalk. I looked like a drowned rat.

If a kind stranger hadn't stopped to drive me home, I might have ended up in an ambulance again.

Back home, I dried myself and disinfected my wound. Just as I took my medicine, Marcus slammed the front door open.

"Why didn't you tell me you went home? Do you know how many times I drove around in that storm? I looked for you for an hour! You think playing me is funny?"