I'm due for a promotion when I stumble upon my husband entangled with his childhood sweetheart. After that, I'm secretly admitted to a psychiatric facility.

I repeatedly tell the doctors that I'm fine, but all I get is worse abuse and humiliation.

When Howard Armstrong visits me every month, I beg him to get me out. Each time, he says, "This is a proper establishment, so you have to follow the doctor's instructions. Don't be unreasonable!"

On the day I'm discharged, he speaks to me tenderly and calls me his honey.

Later, when I place a divorce agreement before him, he breaks down in tears.

The psychiatric facility informed me I could finally be discharged. Howard Armstrong still hadn't shown up, but his secretary, Alex Freeman, was busy handling all the paperwork for my release.

I trailed behind Alex, taking one step at a time. Alex was clearly getting impatient, urging me several times to hurry up.

I plastered a smile on my face and explained that my muscles had atrophied from all the time I spent in recovery.

"Muscle atrophy. It must be a disease caused by idleness," he muttered under his breath.

Before I could say anything, I heard a sweet, whiny voice at the door. It was Phoebe Lawson, Howard's childhood friend.

"Howie, I've already accompanied you here twice this month! You used to only come here once a month. I had to skip work to be here with you, so you'd better make it up to me later!"

I realized that she always tagged along during his regular visits.

Howard chuckled as he opened the door. "What? Don't you like coming to the psychiatric facility?" But the second he saw me and Alex, he froze.

Before, I would've marched right up to him and made a scene. I would've demanded to know what the hell he meant by that. But ever since I came to the psychiatric facility, every single visit from him ended with more abuse and bullying.

The memory of those electric shocks still made my body seize up. I couldn't move. My feet felt like they were bolted to the floor.

Howard stood there awkwardly. Phoebe tugged on his sleeve with a glint in her eyes.

"Howie, didn't Yvette always tell you how terrible things were in here when you visited her? But look at her now… she looks totally fine to me."

Phoebe eyed me up and down with the same cold look my doctor always gave me. Memories of the abuse crashed over me, and I instinctively took a few steps back and tried to hide behind Alex, trembling.

Howard's awkwardness vanished the moment he saw me flinch like he'd just found something to use against me.

He sighed dramatically and, with a tone that sounded more like charity than concern, said, "That's enough, Yvette. Drop the act already. Phoebe was kind enough to come with me to get you. Let's go home."

I stayed silent, hunched and small, like a frightened bird.

Howard scowled, clearly disgusted. "What the hell happened to you? Why are you acting like this?"

Phoebe chimed in, "Yeah, Yvette. Howie's been doing all this for your own good. He just wants you to get better. Are you putting on this act to make him feel guilty?"

Then, she took a few steps forward and asked, "Were you really abused? Or were you just lying to get Howie's attention?"

I looked at her—at that face that looked just like my doctor—and I couldn't speak. I just kept backing away, doing my best to hide from her gaze.

Howard grabbed me by the arm and yanked me aside. "You're impossible, Yvette! You're playing these little games just because you're jealous of Phoebe!

"I guess you haven't had enough of the psychiatric facility yet. Pheebs, don't waste your time on her; she won't appreciate it anyway!"

He turned around, took Phoebe's hand, and stormed away. Before he left, he barked one last order at Alex, "If she wants to leave, take her. If not, send her back in!"

I couldn't believe he would want to send me back in. I didn't want to go back to the psychiatric facility. I couldn't go back to that hellhole!

I shot to my feet and was just about to run after them when Alex seized my arm. I couldn't think straight anymore. Tears blurred my vision, and I couldn't even tell which direction I was facing. "Please," I begged. "I want to go home! I'll go home."

Alex let out a heavy sigh, his brows knitting together. "Alright. I'll take you home."

The scenery outside the car window blurred past. It wasn't until we were on the way back that I finally started to calm down.

Phoebe had returned to the country three years ago. I'd already known about her long before that.

Howard and Phoebe had grown up together. After graduating from college, she went abroad to further her studies, but Howard couldn't follow her because his family business had run into trouble. Hence, he had no choice but to stay and study locally.

I graduated with Howard, worked alongside him, and helped him take over his family business, going through countless struggles together. Things only started looking up for his family's company after I successfully helped secure several major deals with well-known companies.

I had always thought Phoebe was nothing more than a fleeting childhood crush of Howard's—just some silly puppy love that could never compare to the years Howard and I had spent building a life together, side by side, through thick and thin.

But the moment she came back, Howard immediately turned on me.

"Yvette, Pheebs studied abroad and has a stronger background than you. She's more suited for the director role, especially now that our projects are dealing with foreign companies.

"Why don't you stay home and be a full-time housewife? If you really want to work, you could help her as her secretary."

As he said that, he kept gauging my reaction. When he noticed my reluctance, he tried to comfort me.

"I'm just looking out for you. Being a housewife isn't a bad thing, you know; there are so many people who wish they could have a soft life."

I cut him off coldly. "The project with Equinox Trading Co. is something I poured my heart into. I'm not giving it up."

He fell silent and didn't press the matter. But I failed to notice the look in his eyes—the darkness hiding behind his silence.

During the next executive meeting, someone showed up with two medication certificates, claiming I had depression and bipolar disorder and was unfit to keep working. I desperately hoped Howard would come to my defense.

Little did I know that he would turn out to be the final nail in the coffin. "It's okay, Yve. I'll get you the best treatment. I'll arrange for you to stay at the best psychiatric facility. In the meantime, Ms. Larson will take charge of the company's projects."

He was the one who had me sent to that place. His voice still echoed in my mind. "I believe Ms. Larson will bring even more value to the company."

In the end, I was no match for his first love.

…

Alex took me home, but no matter how many times I tried, I couldn't get the password right. In the end, Alex had to unlock it for me.

Everything in the house looked familiar… and yet it all felt foreign. There were a few pieces of clothing scattered on the couch—some were Howard's, but some were clearly Phoebe's.

There were leftovers on the table that the housekeeper hadn't cleaned up yet, along with two sets of used dinnerware. The plates had little cartoon animals—one with a kitten and the other a puppy—facing each other. Even the cutlery was a matching couple's set.

It was obvious that another woman had made herself at home here while I had been gone for the past three years.

I was about to head to the master bedroom when Alex stepped in front of me. He chose his words carefully like he was tiptoeing on glass. "Mrs. Armstrong… Mr. Armstrong said it'd be better for you to stay in the guest room for now.

"Once the housekeeper's done tidying up, you can move into the master bedroom. It'll be more comfortable that way."

I couldn't believe that I had to sleep in the guest room in my own house. It made me wonder who the real lady of this house was.

My face burned with humiliation. This wasn't home anymore. And I never wanted to come back.

That night, I came down with a high fever.

I was barely conscious—my mind drifting between dreams and delirium. For a moment, I thought it was still three years ago. Instinctively, I called Howard for help.

But instead of his voice, I heard Phoebe's syrupy tone on the other end. "Who's calling you at this hour, Howie?"

It was late, yet the two of them were still together. The fog in my head cleared just enough for me to hang up the phone immediately.

Howard didn't come home until the middle of the night. By then, the ibuprofen I'd taken had already kicked in.

He burst through the door, looking like he'd rushed over straight from somewhere else. His hair was a mess, his lips were swollen, and love bites littered his neck.

It had been four whole hours since I had called him for help. He looked exhausted, but for the first time, he softened his tone and tried to explain himself. He said, "I was busy at work."

I gently patted his hand and told him it was fine.

He froze, clearly caught off guard. In the past, I would've gone off on him, asked him why he was so late, and whined about how sick I felt and how much it hurt to burn up like this.

He probably had a whole speech prepared and was ready to chastise me, but I'd thrown him off with my calm response. After a long pause, he let out a cold chuckle.

"It would've been nice if you'd behaved like this sooner. Looks like the treatment at the psychiatric facility worked.

"Pheebs is still waiting in the car. She rushed over the second she heard you were sick. Even a director like her can find time to care about you; you should take a page from her book."

I stayed quiet and just followed him to the garage.

On the way there, he kept rambling about the past few years—how the deal with Equinox Trading Co. fell through and how it was somehow my fault for not handing things off to Phoebe properly.

He also complained that the company's performance had declined because my stay at the psychiatric facility had distracted him. Somehow, everything circled back to Phoebe.

"Good thing she stayed by my side. If you hadn't been so immature, Yvette, I wouldn't have had to go through all these hardships. And now I still have to take you to the hospital."

I listened to him complain, and despite myself, a wave of resentment began to rise. I looked up at him and asked, "So, she gets the master bedroom? She's the lady of the house now, isn't she?"

He abruptly snapped. He grabbed my wrist and yelled at me, "You went into my room? So what if Pheebs is staying here?

"She had nowhere else to go when she came back. What? Can't you even share a room? Why are you so petty?

"I'm warning you: When we see Pheebs, don't you dare say anything stupid, or I'll send you right back to the psychiatric facility!"

I had already given her my job and my room, and now it seemed like I was about to lose my husband to her, too. He hadn't changed at all. This wasn't the first time he'd threatened to send me back.

Phoebe must've heard us arguing because she got out of the car and hurried over. She slipped her arm around Howard's and began soothing him in a low, gentle voice.

As I watched her fuss over him while I stood like a ghost, I couldn't help but think she looked more like his wife than I ever did. I felt as if my heart was being pierced by a thousand needles watching them.

Phoebe turned to me and said sweetly, "Yvette, I don't mean to criticize you, but you're just a housewife now. You don't have a job.

"You rely on Howie for everything. You shouldn't make things harder for him just because you don't like me."

Howard shook off my hand violently, and I lost my footing, stumbling a few steps. Years of medication and abuse had left my muscles weak, and with a fever ravaging my body, I couldn't stay upright anymore. I proceeded to collapse on the ground.

Howard barked something else at me, but my ears were ringing, and I couldn't even make out what he said.