"And YOU!"

"Homewrecker extraordinaire—acting like you've actually accomplished something!"

My coworker jabbed a finger at the designer necklace glittering around the girl's throat.

"Unless my eyes are deceiving me, that little trinket was bought with MY friend's money!"

She was seething now.

"Take it off and give it back to her!"

She lunged forward. The girl shrieked in terror, but Roger grabbed my coworker's wrist and hurled her aside. She crashed into a table, sending everything scattering across the floor. Then I heard him roar:

"Lorraine!"

"Is THIS how you were raised?!"

The girl cowered in Roger's arms, tears streaming down her face like rain on pear blossoms—the picture of wounded innocence.

"Roger and I are truly in love!" she sobbed.

"He stopped loving you ages ago!"

"Lorraine! He doesn't love you!"

My coworker was still sprawled on the ground, but that didn't stop her from screaming: "I'll beat you both to death—you shameless cheater and your pathetic side piece!"

She scrambled to her feet, ready to tear into them again. But suddenly... I felt nothing. No rage. No desperation. Just a hollow calm.

I walked over and pulled her behind me, positioning myself between her and Roger. His expression shifted to wariness.

"Apologize to my friend."

Roger stared at me like I'd lost my mind.

"Roger." I'd expected this moment to shatter me—to feel my heart being crushed until I couldn't breathe. But watching someone else burn with fury on my behalf, watching someone fight for me... it cleared my head instead. "Apologize to my friend."

"You've gone insane!"

The words barely left his mouth.

I swung my purse and cracked it across his skull. Then I seized the girl by her hair and slammed her face into the corner of the table.

"Roger Simmons."

My voice was ice.

"I won't let this go."

Then I turned, took my coworker's arm, and walked out of the restaurant.

She'd only been at the company six months. I'd trained her myself, mentored her from day one.

Now she sat in my passenger seat, face creased with worry. But I just stared at my phone, perfectly calm, as Roger's messages flooded in:

[Lorraine! You went way too far today!]

[Do you have any idea—someone filmed your little scene at the restaurant and posted it online! If this spreads, how is Judy supposed to show her face?!]

[Post something immediately to clear this up. Do that, and I'll pretend nothing happened.]

[Lorraine, don't forget—your parents are retired. Your entire family depends on ME now. I'm not the man I used to be!]

Then a friend request popped up.

From the girl Roger had been so desperate to protect.

Judy Fox.

She sent videos. Photos. And a message:

[Lorraine, Roger stopped loving you a long time ago. Staying with you was just obligation.]

[Since we're all done pretending now...]

[Why bother hiding anymore? So what if public opinion destroys me? The brave get to enjoy the world first!]

[The more people attack me, the more your husband loves me. The better my odds. Believe it or not!]

I watched the video she'd sent.

Roger, already making arrangements to transfer assets. His voice on a phone call, giving instructions:

"Separate everything from my marriage to Lorraine—including my overseas holdings. Transfer it all into Judy's name. Make it seamless. Lorraine has zero tolerance for deception, so I need to prepare for the worst."

"Understood, sir."

"If Lorraine can accept this situation, admit she was wrong, and make room for Judy... then fine. She stays Mrs. Simmons."

"But if she refuses to know her place?"

"Then I'll make sure Lorraine ends up with nothing."

I stared at that familiar face on my screen.

A chill seeped through me, settling deep in my bones.

The man I'd shared a bed with for years—the moment I caught him cheating, his first instinct wasn't fear. Wasn't remorse.

It was demanding that I clear his mistress's name.

So he wanted me to legitimize his mistress—and then tolerate her existence.

I laughed. Actually laughed.

But Roger wasn't wrong about one thing.

I really couldn't stand a single grain of sand in my eye.

So when my friend sent over Judy's file—and received the videos and photos I'd forwarded—she called me, already laughing.

"I have to say, Roger found himself a real idiot!"

"We didn't even need to go digging for evidence. She gift-wrapped it and handed it right to us!"

My friend's laughter rang through the phone.

"Those videos alone are enough to bury Roger. And then there's your marital assets."

"Also," she asked, "when your parents backed his startup, didn't he sign a promissory note?"

He had.

Roger had insisted on writing that note. He'd made me film the entire thing—said it was to give my family peace of mind.

Even when my parents refused, even when I said it really wasn't necessary.

Roger wouldn't budge.

"Lori."

"I don't want anyone thinking I'm taking advantage of your family."

"Keep this safe. It's your protection for the future."

Now.

I stared at that promissory note in my hands, at the USB drive containing the video, listening to my friend say—

"With all this—"

"There's more."

I cut her off. I pulled out the company registration documents from when Roger founded the business. He'd consulted some fortune teller back then, who said my birth chart was more auspicious, better for attracting wealth. So he'd registered the company under my name.

Including every piece of real estate we owned together.

I spread everything across the table.

"This is enough to make Roger come crawling."

I told my friend.

"I don't just want Roger left with nothing. I want his reputation in ruins."

I returned home from the law firm to the apartment Roger and I had shared for three years. At the entryway, there it was—roses Roger had prepared for me. Withered now, unrecognizable, with a card resting on top:

Hope my wife is happy forever.

A little smiley face drawn in the corner.

Roger used to bring me flowers every single day. Five years straight, without fail.

Now.

I watched him walk in carrying a fresh bouquet, his expression perfectly calm as he met my gaze.

"Lori."

As if nothing had happened, he set the flowers on the entryway table and tossed the dead roses into the trash.

"We're husband and wife—one unit. Those women out there? They're just entertainment."

"You should understand that." He stepped closer. "Can we stop this nonsense?"

The perfume clinging to him wasn't mine.

That cloying sweetness turned my stomach. I stepped back instinctively, and my palm connected with his face before I could think. I threw the divorce agreement at him.

"Roger."

"Adultery during marriage. Fraudulent transfer of marital assets. Every cent you spent on Judy." My voice was ice. "You have two choices."

I watched his expression freeze.

"Option one: sign, and we divorce with dignity."

Roger picked up the agreement, staring at me in disbelief.

"Option two: fight me in court." I held his stunned gaze. "Less dignified, but you'll still walk away with nothing."

Roger ripped the papers in half with a violent jerk. A cold laugh escaped him.

"Lorraine!"

"You're dreaming!"

"Walk away with nothing?"

"Who the hell do you think you are!"

He flung the shredded agreement into the air. Fragments drifted down like snow, scattering across the floor.

I watched his face darken to thunder as he closed in on me, every word bitten off.

"You want me to leave with nothing?"

"Not. A. Chance."

He opened his mouth to say more, but his phone exploded with notifications. Irritated, he glanced at the caller ID, jabbed the answer button, and bellowed into the receiver—

"What is it!"

Then—

I watched the color drain from Roger's face inch by inch until he was deathly pale, staring at me in disbelief.