Jack Cooke—my husband, who'd never so much as scrambled an egg—suddenly went full kitchen freak. He bought a ton of pots and spatulas, then spent all day just... polishing them.

When I called him out, he shrugged. "I like things clean. That a crime now?"

Behind him? A mountain of dirty socks.

Then it got weirder. He dragged all the kitchen stuff into our bedroom.

At night, he'd get weird with a dishcloth. Like, disturbingly weird.

I was done. I asked for a divorce.

Jack stormed into a private dining room and shredded the papers right in front of our investors.

"You're seriously ending our marriage over this? Kinda dramatic, don't you think?"

I didn’t blink. “I gave up my spot for your pots and pans. A little thanks wouldn’t kill you.”

Jack Cooke went pale with rage. "Seven years together and you just drop divorce papers outta nowhere? Do you even know what people are saying about me?"

Once I calmed the investors, I gave him a blank stare. "I'm busy. Talk to Pedro. He'll catch me up."

The investors just stared.

I used to be that lovesick idiot, ready to throw it all away for Jack.

Now? I was the one walking out.

Jack jabbed a finger in my face. "I'm your husband. Since when do we need a middleman just to talk? Or wait—this about Pedro? That why you're doing this?"

Before I could answer, a woman in a chef's hat stormed in and slapped me.

Linda Keller. Head chef.

"Ms. Somerset, what you're doing is heartless! Jack only started cooking 'cause he saw how exhausted you were. You never appreciated him. And now you're cheating with your assistant and demanding a divorce?"

The room froze. All eyes on me.

"So she's been keeping a side piece this whole time," someone muttered. "No wonder her husband snapped."

Jack let out this dramatic sigh and grabbed my hand. "Babe, I know I've been kinda distant with all the cooking stuff, but I was doing it for your health. I'll get better at balancing everything, okay? Just... don't be mad."

The way he played it all sweet only made me look like the brat in the room.

Even the investors—people who'd known me for years—started siding with him.

"Think about everything you two have been through," they said. "Don't just toss it all over a rough patch."

I looked Jack dead in the eye, pulled out the divorce papers from my bag, and dropped them on the table.

"You came all this way. Let's just get it over with. Ask for whatever you want—if I've got it, it's yours."

He froze. Clearly didn't think I'd still want out after his whole guilt-trip performance.

Then he snapped. "I'm not getting divorced!"

He ripped the papers to shreds.

I didn't flinch. Just reached into my bag and pulled out another set. "Go ahead, rip that too. There's a copy shop downstairs. Sign when you're done acting out—I've got time."

I sat down and went back to business like nothing happened.

Jack just stood there, stunned. "Why? Why do you have to divorce me?"

Didn't even bother looking up. "I'm over it. We'll both be better off."

Linda grabbed my arm, yelling, "Over it? After seven years, that's your excuse? Just admit you've fallen for someone else!"

I frowned and slapped her. "You're defending him a little too hard. What, you two got something going on? And let me be clear—you cook. Stay in your lane."

Jack jumped in front of Linda like some kind of hero. "If you're mad, take it out on me. No need to drag her into this."

I laughed, sharp and cold. "She picked this fight. Don't play the victim card now."

The room shifted. People frowned. The whispers started—low, judgmental, full of side-eyes and silent blame.

***

Thanks to Jack and Linda's little act, I was officially the cheating wife in everyone's eyes.

Linda sniffled. "I shouldn't have gotten involved..."

Jack's eyes went all red. "You didn't do anything wrong. Sonna's just being irrational."

Then he turned to me, full-on pity mode. "Babe, it's my fault. But don't take it out on everyone else."

He went in for the kill. "Ever since we lost the baby, you've been unstable—lashing out. I was just trying to take care of your health and forgot about your feelings. I'm sorry. Let's stop fighting, yeah?"

The more he groveled, the worse I looked.

People started glaring at me.

"Enough already. Apologize to your husband—don't blow up your marriage over this."

"If you won't make things right, we're pulling out of the deal."

I caught every glare, every whispered judgment.

They thought waving their money around would scare me into apologizing.

Not happening.

I scoffed, pulled out another fresh stack of divorce papers. "Here's the agreement. You're signing it—one way or another. Refuse, and I'll force it."

Jack's face went dark. "You've lost it. I'm not divorcing you. Over my dead body!"

Linda jumped in, practically buzzing to fan the flames. "You've got a man like Jack and you still want out? If that's not cheating, I don't know what is. Ms. Somerset, he really loves you. Don't throw him away for some assistant."

I didn't even look at her.

I turned to Jack, cool and sharp. "You sure you want me to tell everyone the real reason I'm doing this?"

***

The second I said it, Jack—who'd been all bark a minute ago—went dead quiet. "Do you have to be this cruel?"

I didn't even glance his way.

Defeated, he walked out without another word.

With that mess behind me, I headed home to pack.

But the fingerprint scanner kept rejecting me.

While I stood there, confused, the maids started whispering loud enough for me to hear.

"She really came back. Shameless."

"Mr. Cooke's still busting his butt in the kitchen, and she doesn't care."

"Says she's 'over it,' but come on—she's totally hooking up with that assistant. Why else would she basically live at the office?"

They weren't being subtle. They wanted it to sting.

Just as I was about to ask someone to open the door, Jack and Linda strolled out.

"Shut up!" Jack snapped at the maids. "Who do you think you are, talking about my wife like that?"

Then he looked at me with that fake soft smile. "Babe, I knew you were just upset. I knew you'd come back."

I didn't say a word. Just walked past him into the house.

He lit up like he'd won.

Holding out a bowl of soup, he tried to play the doting husband. "I made some Avgolemono. Still warm."

I caught the red scratch marks just barely hidden under his collar.

Face blank, I smacked the bowl right out of his hands. "I'm not drinking that."

The hot soup splashed all over him.

Gasps all around.

"She really dumped boiling soup on him? That's messed up."

"She doesn't deserve a guy like Mr. Cooke!"

I didn't even blink. Just kept walking—straight upstairs to the master bedroom.

I was almost done packing when I noticed it—my dad's antique bracelet was gone.

I tore through drawers, boxes—nothing.

Then Linda walked in, all innocent. "Ms. Somerset, what are you looking for? I can help."

I froze.

The bracelet on her wrist? That was mine.

I grabbed her wrist without thinking. "Give it back."

Linda yanked away, gasping. "Ms. Somerset, what are you doing?! What bracelet? I have no idea what you're talking about!"

The noise drew a crowd upstairs.

The moment she spotted Jack, she cranked up the drama. "Jack, help! She's accusing me of stealing! Says this bracelet's hers!"

Jack rushed over and yanked me back. "What are you doing? I gave that bracelet to Linda when she started helping me cook. Quit the drama."

Then he grabbed a jewelry box from the closet and shoved it at me. "This is yours. Don't blame people just 'cause you lost stuff."

I popped it open. Fake. The glass was dull and lifeless—definitely not the one my dad gave me.

I shot Linda a look. "Last chance. Give it back or I'm ripping it off your wrist."

She ducked behind Jack like a scared little mouse.

So I lunged.

She did the whole dramatic stumble thing, and boom—the bracelet slammed against the table and shattered.

***

Everyone froze.

Nobody thought I'd actually go for it. I'd been calm the whole time—until now.

But the real shocker? The bracelet shattered.

I dropped to my knees, collecting the pieces.

Jack pulled Linda up. "Sonna, I've dealt with your tantrums, your mood swings—I'm your husband, that's my job. But Linda's a guest. Putting your hands on her? That's too far!"

I looked straight at Linda, eyes blazing. "She deserved it."

Gasps.

Their stares got colder, heavier. I was the psycho wife now.

And Jack? Oh, he played the loyal, patient husband like a pro.

"Fine!" he snapped. "You want this divorce so bad? Let's do it! I'll stream the whole court case live—let the world see what kind of monster you are!"

I didn't even look at him.

Just packed up the shattered bracelet, slipped it into my bag, and walked out with the movers.

After all that, there was no stopping the divorce news from blowing up.

Online, the rumors went wild.

Some said I had postpartum depression and lost it. Others claimed I faked the miscarriage—that the baby wasn't even Jack's. The worst? That I used dirty tricks to trap him into marrying me.

I couldn't care less.

I even hired some PR burners to stir the pot.

Let them talk. The bigger the drama, the harder the truth's gonna slap.

A week later, we were in court.

At the door, Jack hit me with that same fake-tired look. Still playing the victim. "Babe, just admit you messed up. I'll drop everything. We can go back like none of this ever happened."

I walked right past him.

He glanced at the docs I'd filed and scoffed. "How many times do I have to say it? What I did wasn't even cheating. You're just being extra. It's not too late to stop making a fool of yourself."

I smiled, cool as ice, and handed the judge a new folder.

Then I looked at Jack, calm and steady. "I'm not here for adultery. This case... is for attempted murder."