Chapter 1

It was our sixth wedding anniversary, and I had invited our entire family to celebrate over dinner. When my wife was late, I FaceTimed her to see where she was. The moment she answered, her male best friend was lying half-naked right beside her in bed.

She instantly hung up. When she called back, her male best friend was still buttoning his shirt, surrounded by her group of girlfriends who all joined in to bash me. They called me a petty, narrow-minded buzzkill.

While my family sat there in stunned silence, I simply hung up the phone. I turned around, poured myself a glass of wine, and smiled.

If this had happened in the past, I would have rushed over to demand an explanation.

This time, I just calmly told everyone to enjoy the meal.

1

After the mess of empty plates and glasses was cleared at the restaurant, I looked down at the untouched birthday cake on the table and gave a faint smile. I ate a quick bite and headed home.

Tonight was not just our wedding anniversary. It was also my thirtieth birthday.

What an unforgettable birthday present she had given me.

By the time I finished showering and got ready for bed, Sierra still had not returned.

She had texted earlier saying she was going to a club to unwind with her besties. Apparently, unwinding meant staying out the entire night and ending up in bed with another man.

Well, that made sense. To her, a guy best friend was just another girlfriend.

The next morning, she came home reeking of alcohol. Seeing me in the kitchen making breakfast, she ran over and wrapped her arms around me.

"Up so early today, babe? Making breakfast for me again? Honestly, your cooking sucks, so I already grabbed something on my way back."

I offered a polite smile and ignored her comment, carrying my plate straight to the dining table.

In the past, if I heard a complaint like that, I would have scrambled to promise her that I would take cooking classes to suit her refined palate.

Today, I did not have the energy to care.

Sierra pulled a half-eaten box of luxury chocolates from her designer bag and placed it in front of me.

"I thought these were amazing last night, so I brought some home for you. I could not resist eating a few on the way, but you have to try one. They are delicious."

This was her usual tactic. Every time she humiliated me, she threw me a little treat, treating me like a dog she was training.

Of course, this was also her way of offering an olive branch, expecting me to back down and sweep everything under the rug.

When she saw that I had not touched the box, she opened it and pushed it closer. The remaining chocolates were covered in someone else's bite marks, soaked in spilled alcohol, and reeking of a sharp, nauseating stench.

I shoved the box aside with annoyance and quietly ate my oatmeal.

I was severely allergic to cocoa and could not eat chocolate at all. Of course, I did not bother reminding Sierra of that.

Sierra's expression darkened with irritation.

"I am giving you ten minutes to finish it. I went out of my way to bring you a gift, and you are being picky? If you haven't finished it by the time I am out of the shower, do not blame me for getting mad."

With that, she grabbed her phone and hurried into the bathroom.

I could not care less. Whatever she wanted to do was no longer my concern.

After finishing breakfast, I picked up my tablet to review a draft of our divorce agreement. Suddenly, a notification popped up on the screen.

"You were so hot last night, baby. You blew my mind, and I am totally addicted to those sweet lips of yours."

Before I could set the tablet down, a shrill scream erupted behind me.

"Are you spying on me?!"

She hurled her heavy phone straight at the back of my head. Taken completely off guard, pain exploded across my scalp, and warm blood instantly gushed out.

I clutched the back of my head and looked at her. Sierra glared at me with icy indifference, as if I had brought this upon myself, as if this was merely my punishment for crossing a line.

After a few seconds of silence, she tossed me a towel and told me to get in the car so she could drive me to the ER.

Blood was pouring down my neck, and my vision was starting to blur, so I did not refuse. I stumbled out the door and climbed into the passenger seat.

The moment I sat down, I spotted a crushed cigarette butt sitting in the console of the luxury SUV I had bought her in cash.

Sierra noticed it too, her eyes darting away nervously.

"I gave my girlfriends a ride the other day. One of them smoked it."

I let out a soft sneer, too tired to call her out.

Women's cigarette butts almost always had lipstick stains on the filter, but this one was completely clean.

Seeing that I had no reaction, my wife asked with mild surprise, "Aren't you going to throw it away?"

I looked at her with a calm smile.

"Why throw it away? Your bestie will probably want to smoke in here again anyway, right?"

If this were the old me who worshiped the ground she walked on, I would have interrogated her relentlessly and scrubbed every trace of another man out of our car.

Now, none of it mattered.

She was already a stranger to me. Why would I care about some leftover trash?

Perhaps feeling guilty, Sierra drove unusually fast. Just five minutes away from the hospital, her phone rang.

Without even looking, I knew it was her dear best friend, Zack.

Zack whimpered over the speaker, claiming his back ached and he felt too weak to get out of bed. Hearing his voice, Sierra's eyes filled with overwhelming worry, completely blind to the fact that the towel in my hands was already soaked in blood.

My vision was going black, and I barely had the strength to speak. Sierra abruptly declared that Zack's apartment was right around the corner and that she needed to check on him first.

She slammed on the gas and pulled up outside Zack's building.

She told me to wait in the car for five minutes, locked the doors from the outside, and rushed upstairs.

That five-minute wait turned into thirty minutes. My vision dimmed, and blood soaked through my shirt.

Fortunately, I had a habit of keeping an emergency window-breaker tool in the door pocket. Summoning every ounce of strength left, I smashed the window, and with the help of a kind passerby, I made it to the ER just before passing out.