During the third year of our marriage, my husband's ex—whom he dated for eight years—suddenly shares a photo of a ten-million-dollar marital home on her social media. It's captioned, "I've finally gotten a mansion! Who's the best at dating? I am!"

I gape at the image—I see my husband swiping his card at the real estate sales office in a corner of the photo. I leave a question mark in the comments.

In the next second, my husband calls me to tell me off. "I'm just making good on a promise I made her when we were dating—to buy her a marital home. Why did you have to go insult her like that? Are you evil enough to turn me into a man who goes back on his word?"

That evening, his ex shares another photo of a million-dollar renovation bill.

I know it's a gift from my husband to appease her, but I don't care anymore…

When Cameron Jensen came home, I was taking paroxetine for depression.

Since Rowena Sherman came into the picture, my marriage with Cameron had become suffocating, and it had led me into moderate depression.

Cameron came over, snatched my pills, and threw them in the trash. "You're popping pills every time I get home. Can't you cut the pathetic act?"

He pulled out a bouquet and tossed it at my feet. "Rowena got this for you. I asked her how I should punish you so she'd stop being mad, but she's too kind. She said she'll let it slide as long as you apologize."

I stared at the half-dead bouquet on the table. I sniffed, and the stench of rotting stems hit me.

Three days ago, Rowena had posted this same bouquet online with the caption, "Fresh flowers and a man to make for a perfect afternoon!"

Those painful memories came rushing back. I grabbed a paring knife to peel an apple, hoping to take my mind off things. "I don't want anything from her. It's gross."

Cameron scowled, sounding frustrated. "What's with the stuck-up attitude? She already sent you a gift. Is it really that hard to apologize?"

I didn't budge.

"Stop being ungrateful. You're at fault, and Rowena's already made an effort to make peace!" Cameron lost his patience and kicked the dining table.

The force was enough to flip it over, and I crashed to the ground with it. Just my luck, the paring knife stabbed right into my palm.

Blood came rushing out of my right hand, soaking through my white T-shirt in no time. The pain was so bad, it had me shaking all over.

Cameron flew into a panic. "I'll take you to the hospital."

I kept quiet and followed him down to the garage. The moment I got into the car, I noticed the passenger seat was different—now sporting a brand-new pink cat design.

His car used to have an all-black interior. Clearly, someone had made the change in the last few days.

"I dated her for eight years, remember? When we were together, I promised I'd do whatever she asked in the future," Cameron said.

He glanced at me and muttered, "She wanted to change the seat, and it's not a big deal. What? You're not going to freak out over something this small again, are you?"

I bent down, climbed into the car, and fastened my seatbelt. "No, pink's actually cute."

A flicker of surprise crossed Cameron's eyes. "You're not asking me to change it back?"

I pursed my lips.

Every time I saw Rowena leave traces in Cameron's life, I'd get rid of her stuff. But now, I couldn't care less about anything.

"Hurry up and get me to the hospital. My hand's killing me," I said flatly.

20 minutes later, we were almost at the hospital entrance when Cameron's phone rang.

"What's up, Rowie?"

Rowena's sobs came through the phone. "The villa's way too big, and I'm scared of being here alone."

"Calm down." Cameron's eyes were full of concern. "Turn the lights on. I'll be there in 20 minutes."

He slammed on the gas. Three minutes later, he screeched to a stop at the hospital entrance.

I curled up in the seat, suddenly hit with a wave of somatic symptoms. I gasped for air, sweat soaking me through. My hands were shaking, and my head was spinning.

"Cameron, I feel terrible. Can you help me inside? I can barely walk," I said.

Cameron shot me an impatient look. "You're pretending to be sick again? You only feel awful when Rowena calls. What, is she like a knife twisting in you or something?"

He flung open the passenger door, pulled me out of the car, and sped off without a care.

I crouched on the ground, trembling uncontrollably from the somatic symptoms, and couldn't move.

The sky was still dumping rain, drenching me in seconds, including the wound on my palm. I was in so much pain that my face went pale. I curled up on the ground, watching the cars drive by.

Luckily, a kind woman saw something was off and came over to help, stopping things from getting worse.

Half an hour later, I began feeling normal again but heard something that blew my mind.

"Ms. Tuttle, you're pregnant."

"Can I go ahead with the abortion now?"

"It can only be done during the day."

Once I got the wound bandaged, I went home and changed into something dry.

Cameron happened to come home. He kicked the chair in frustration when he saw me lying on the bed.

"I told you to iron my suit as soon as you returned, didn't I? What, are you throwing a fit because I didn't carry you to the hospital? Why are you being so annoying? Can't you be a bit more mature?"

I was drying my hair with the blow dryer in my left hand when Cameron's words made me pause. I gave a wry smile.

Why didn't I iron his suit?

I used to make sure I pressed his suits the night before, every single day. But the second he dragged me out of the car, I knew what I had to do. Once I was back to normal, I set his contact to "Do Not Disturb."

I blinked and brushed it off with an excuse. "My hand's hurting, so I can't check my messages."

Cameron glanced at my bandaged right hand, and I saw something strange flicker in his eyes.

He tossed a tube of ointment at me. "The doctor said this really helps with stopping the bleeding."

I grabbed the ointment, gave it a quick look, and sneered.

Perfect—it was expired.

Before long, Cameron muttered, "Rowena's got a good heart. She's not as nasty or petty as you. She knew you were in pain so she got this ointment specifically for you."

"No, I'm good. Let her have it." I tossed the ointment onto the table, and it slid right into the trash.

Cameron got up, glaring at me. "What the hell's wrong with you? Rowena actually went to the pharmacy to get this for you, and you just threw it away?

"I know you're mad because I bought Rowena a new house, but it's my money—I can spend it however I want! You've been acting all snarky with her, and I still haven't settled that with you!"

He laid into me without stopping, and I felt lightheaded and couldn't catch my breath. "I'm not mad. Can I just get a break—"

"Pretending to be sick again?" Cameron cut in impatiently and smacked my head hard. "I don't think it's depression, but something's definitely not right up here—in your head! And you're such a jerk!"

Since Rowena's return, Cameron had been accusing me of being a jerk every single moment he could. He claimed I was pushing him to be some cold-hearted man.

I used to cry and explain that Rowena's presence bothered me because I wanted him all to myself. But now, I had decided to let him be the guy who kept his promises like he wanted.

"Yeah, I'm a jerk. Can you leave now? I need to rest," I said with no feeling.

Cameron was caught off guard. He turned and left, slamming the bedroom door as he went.

I lay on my side and played some calming music to soothe myself. But my depression flared up again, and the tears wouldn't stop.

Now and then, I could hear Cameron comforting Rowena from the living room. His laugh was hearty and unbelievably gentle.

I was almost asleep when I heard the bedroom door creak open. Cameron slid under the blanket and wrapped his arms around me. "Hey babe, it's Saturday... Wanna play?"

Ever since Rowena showed up, I couldn't shake the feeling they were more than just friends. So, Cameron made sure we slept together every Saturday to prove his innocence.

I blocked his hand. "I'm beat today. Let's wait till next week."

Cameron stopped and let out a sigh of relief. "Honestly, I wasn't up for it either. If it weren't for how much my parents like you, I wouldn't even be touching you."

He jumped up and bolted, slamming the door as he went.

I locked the bedroom door and grabbed my phone to schedule an abortion for the day after tomorrow. I also texted my lawyer to start working on the divorce agreement.

…

Cameron vanished for two days, and the next time I saw him was on Rowena's social media.

"17 years of friendship, eight years as lovers, and now closer than ever."

The post featured a photo from a birthday party. Rowena leaned on Cameron, carrying a Hermès bag. I looked closer and saw it was the same one I'd bought after checking out a ton of others.

Half a month ago, Cameron unexpectedly offered to pick it up from the store, but I never got it.

I cracked a wry smile and liked the post.

Cameron called me immediately. "Get downstairs in half an hour. I'm taking you to a party. Oh, this is your reward for being on your best behavior."

I was about to say no, but he had already hung up.

To keep the divorce moving along, I pushed the abortion to tomorrow and took a cab home from the hospital.

After I got into Cameron's car, he mentioned spending Rowena's birthday with her.

"Don't be mad. When we were dating, I promised her I'd spend every birthday with her if she wanted. But honestly, this is my personal life, and I don't owe you any explanations."

I gave a casual nod. "I'm not mad. You should be with her on her birthday."

Cameron threw a look my way, something unreadable passing through his eyes again.

It wasn't until we got there that I realized it was Brandon Lloyd's celebration party on a cruise ship. Oddly enough, Rowena wasn't around today.

"Sylvie the Stunner, you're a big part of why we're celebrating today," Brandon said, holding up his champagne to toast with me.

He was flattering me, but it was also the truth. I'd hooked Brandon up with connections back then, all for Cameron's sake.

I poured myself some water. "Congrats. I've been under the weather, so I'll stick with water instead of wine."

Brandon grinned. "I heard you're about to head abroad and take over a huge market. Congrats!"

I gave a small smile.

Cameron unexpectedly came up behind me, wine glass in hand. His expression shifted slightly. "Why didn't you tell me you're going abroad? Did I approve of this?"

I wasn't in the mood to talk to Cameron, so I used the restroom as an excuse to leave.

He followed me. "I've explained this already—the house was something I promised her long ago. Don't make me come off as heartless. Sylvie, I've treated you well, too."

I hummed in reply and walked right into the ladies' room.

When I returned, Rowena had taken my spot, sitting beside Cameron and practically glued to him. I glanced at them and sat beside Brandon.

Rowena spotted me and said dramatically, "Oh my gosh, sorry! I'm just so used to sitting with Cameron. You don't mind, do you?"

I shook my head. "Honestly, I'm grateful you're putting up with him for me."

Cameron's face immediately darkened.

Rowena dug her nails into her palms, barely holding up her smile. "Cameron's a great guy. He bought me that house, which is worth tens of millions. I didn't spend a dime! Guess I should be thanking you for letting your husband spend so much on me."

Her words had everyone around us gasping

Rowena had been Cameron's girlfriend for eight years, while I was his wife.

Everyone knew about the tangled relationships between us. They knew how Rowena got her new house, but they kept their heads down and never mentioned it.

Brandon sighed and got up to smooth things over. "Alright, chill. Sylvie the Stunner, you're first! Dance, sing, swim—what's your choice?"

He paused, pointed to a big ice bucket about three feet tall, and said, "We're each taking a turn. Whoever does the worst gets a punishment."

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my abdomen.

I was about to pick singing when Rowena jumped in, "Come on, it has to be dancing! We're here to have fun. Who's holding back?"

The pain got worse, and I said, "I'm not feeling well. I'll sing, or you guys can go first."

Cameron shot me a look, his face hardening. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you still throwing a fit? I gave you a way out and invited you to hang out, but now you're acting stuck-up again?"

Rowena shot a pointed glance at my abdomen and signaled the DJ to crank up a thumping track. She went wild with her dance. Then, she came over and yanked me up.

I fought to keep my temper in check and said, "I told you, I'm not feeling well. Go on without me. I'll sit this one out."

Rowena glanced at Cameron, giggled, and tried to pull me up again.

Frustrated, I pulled my hand back, and it ended up shoving her a little. She stumbled back, slipped, and crashed to the deck, letting out a painful yell.

Everything went silent, even the music stopped.

Cameron's face darkened with anger. He stepped toward me and slammed his wine glass onto the deck.

"Sylvie, what the hell's going on with you? Rowena danced first and invited you to join. She was trying to make peace, and you just shoved her! You're plain evil!"

Rowena pressed herself into Cameron's arms, sobbing with her head down.

I shot him a cold stare and smirked. "Trying to make peace? She's forcing me, isn't she? I said I'm not feeling well. Are you both deaf or something?"

Rowena's sobs grew louder.

Cameron's heart ached as he wiped her tears away. Then, he turned to me, his eyes cold and threatening.

"So, you're being difficult, huh? Since you're not playing along, get ready for the punishment!" He yanked me off the couch and shoved me onto the deck.

I felt a sudden warm rush flooding out of me. I struggled to rise, but Cameron stomped his foot on me.

Then, he grabbed the huge ice bucket—about three feet tall and a foot and a half wide—and emptied it all over me.

Heavy chunks of ice rained down, scraping my skin and numbing my scalp as they hit. My vision was blurred with tears as I tried to dodge the ice, but his foot was on me, and he pressed down harder.

It felt like forever before the ice finally stopped. Every inch of me was numb and sore. The sharp pain in my abdomen almost knocked me out.

Cameron held Rowena as she kept crying. He bent down to comfort her. "There, I've taken care of her. If she doesn't apologize later, I'll immediately—"

I pushed myself to my feet and interrupted him sharply, "You want a divorce, right? Fine! Let's get one and be done with each other for good!"

He looked at me, his eyes briefly flashing with shock.

I dragged myself forward, each step a struggle against the pain. Everyone stared as blood started running down my thighs.

Before everything went dark, I heard a waiter yell, "She's bleeding! Someone help! Oh God, there's so much blood. Is it possible she had a miscarriage?"