Thomas Delgado became obsessed with his new secretary—a woman who already had a boyfriend.

To have her, he'd stop at nothing. The scandal spread across the city like wildfire.

A headline screaming "Delgado Corp CEO Covets Another Man's Woman—Brawl Lands Him in Police Custody" dominated trending searches for three straight days.

Everyone waited for my reaction. Everyone waited to watch me crumble.

But I didn't fall apart like before. I simply paid his bail and collected him in silence.

In the bitter cold outside the police station, I faced him and asked calmly:

"What was it this time?"

Thomas Delgado lit a cigarette. Through the haze of smoke, his bruised face carried a hint of amusement.

"Got bored with what I had at home. Wanted to try something new."

I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose and exhaled slowly.

"Thomas. Let's get a divorce."

"I'm giving you the chance to chase your true love again."

1.

He straightened from where he'd been leaning, casting a lazy glance my way.

His gaze dropped to my belly. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.

Then came a laugh—bright and careless.

"Divorce? That would make it, what, the third time now?"

"And every single time, I crook my finger and you come running right back."

"Stop playing games. Save the government some paperwork. Besides—" His eyes lingered on my stomach. "You're pregnant. A divorce won't go through anyway."

The mocking words hit like a slap.

He was right. I had divorced Thomas Delgado three times.

The first time, he'd fallen for some fresh-faced college girl. Got her pregnant. Dragged us all through a legal nightmare.

The second time, he abandoned me on the way to my prenatal checkup—for a hostess at some club. The car accident that followed cost me my baby.

The third time, a female student he'd been "sponsoring" posted an intimate video online. The humiliation sent both my parents to the hospital.

And every single time, the moment he turned back to me, I surrendered.

My friends called me pathetic. Said I was collecting divorce certificates like stamps—going for a complete set of eight.

But only I knew the truth. There was still someone living in my heart.

The eighteen-year-old Thomas Delgado.

The boy whose whole world had been me. Who chased me like he'd carve out his own heart just to prove his love.

It took until now for me to realize—that boy had vanished long ago.

"Alright, enough joking around. The baby can hear you, you know. You'll upset them."

Thomas reached toward my belly. I stepped back.

"I'm not joking. You—"

Before I could finish, he stubbed out his cigarette and raised a finger to his lips.

"Shh. Bernice is here. Not another word."

The words died in my throat like swallowed needles, sharp and burning.

Bernice Henson. His company's new secretary-assistant.

Fresh out of college. Still carrying that dewy, youthful innocence.

Come to think of it, Thomas's taste hadn't changed in ten years. He only ever wanted the pure ones.

The innocent college girl. The barely-legal hostess. The student he'd "mentored." And now this secretary—engaged the moment she graduated.

His type never varied.

"Mr. Delgado, please show some respect! I'm already engaged!"

"I told you—there's no future for us!"

Bernice supported her badly injured boyfriend, her chest heaving with every word. Her delicate, porcelain face flushed crimson with anger.

Thomas watched her with undisguised interest, his gaze dripping with tenderness I hadn't seen in years.

"Don't be upset, Bernice."

"Look—you've scared your boyfriend so badly he's hiding behind you."

Bernice glanced back at her boyfriend, his face beaten beyond recognition. Her expression faltered.

The man seemed broken by fear. Now that he knew who Thomas Delgado was, he cowered, too terrified to step forward.

Bernice's eyes rimmed red, her voice catching on a sob.

"Thomas Delgado, don't think everyone's scared of you! I'm not afraid—I'll quit if I have to!"

Thomas's lips curved slightly. He found her little tantrum rather endearing.

"Alright, alright. I'll stop teasing you."

He turned to the other man. "Mr. Simmons, I was out of line today. Let me make it up to you—I'll give you both a ride home."

Eustace Simmons pressed a hand to his bruised cheek, a flicker of fear still in his eyes.

"No, no, it was all a misunderstanding." He forced a laugh. "Really, Mr. Delgado, there's no need."

A friend had sent him a video—Bernice entering a restaurant with some unknown man. Eustace had been so furious he'd stormed over and thrown the first punch before even getting a proper look.

It wasn't until he was flat on the ground that he realized the "unknown man" was the CEO of Delgado Corp. Bernice's direct superior.

And his company's biggest client.

Eustace was terrified now, his mind racing through every way this could derail his career.

So when Thomas offered the olive branch, half the weight lifted from his chest.

I watched Thomas lead them toward me. He reached for the door handle, ever the gentleman, ready to open it for Bernice.

It wouldn't budge.

"Marilyn. Unlock the door."

His brow furrowed, a note of warning threading through his voice.

I started the engine and lowered the window, letting my gaze slide over him—cold, unhurried.

"My car. I choose who rides in it."

A beat.

"And I don't care for the dirt."

Bernice's face flushed deeper than before. Her fists clenched at her sides, her whole body trembling.

"There's nothing between me and Thomas! Who are you to say that about me?"

Her round eyes blazed wide—a furious little rabbit, all wounded innocence.

No wonder Thomas was so captivated.

I let out a soft, derisive laugh, spun the wheel, and hit the gas.

In the rearview mirror, Bernice lunged at Thomas in anger—but lost her footing and tumbled straight into his arms.

Thomas, I think you've really found your true love again.

Bernice had graduated from a second-tier college with a degree in e-commerce.

Not a single qualification that matched the job posting for executive assistant to the CEO.

And yet Thomas had singled her out. Bent the rules. Personally interviewed her—alone—for three hours.

The moment I heard, I knew he was falling back into old patterns.

I assumed it was just another fling. So when people whispered and snickered, I barely reacted.

"Men like young, pretty things. It's understandable."

"He's just playing around. It doesn't mean anything."

Everyone marveled at how calm I'd become, and the gossip moved on.

But something felt different this time. Thomas had been pursuing this woman—Bernice—for over two weeks now.

The first time I saw her, Thomas was standing beside her at a bus stop.

A billionaire CEO, keeping his assistant company in the bitter cold, waiting for public transit.

His Maybach idled nearby, hazard lights blinking. Thomas was bent slightly at the waist, coaxing a smile out of her, playing the fool.

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace—six figures, easy.

Her eyes lit up like stars. She pointed at it, disbelief written across her face. "For me?"

"Of course. You like it? I flew to Italy just to get it for you."

That necklace was supposed to be mine.

Instead, I watched him fasten it around another woman's neck.

Even from a distance, I could see the way he looked at her. Tender. Indulgent.

My heart stopped.

With other women, Thomas's eyes had always held something calculating—desire, maybe, but nothing more.

But the way he looked at Bernice?

It was exactly how he used to look at me.

Thomas came home not long after I arrived.

"Marilyn, what's the point of humiliating me like that?"

My hand paused mid-pour, an indescribable ache surging through my chest.

"What about me?"

"Thomas, all these years you've paraded your women right out in the open. Have you ever once spared me any dignity?"

I closed my eyes, fighting to hold myself together.

But the tears still slipped down my cheeks, and my voice turned raw and choked.

"Alright, alright, babe. Seeing you cry makes my heart ache too."

"What man in our circle doesn't have a little fun on the side? It's all physical, nothing emotional. What's the point of getting jealous over them?"

"Don't worry—once I get bored with this one, I'll take a break for a while. Okay?"

Thomas pulled me close, wrapping his arms tightly around me.

He fell into his usual routine of soothing me, telling me I was his only wife, that none of those other women could ever take my place.

Before, that would have been enough to calm me down.

Not this time.

"Babe, has your belly gotten flatter?"

Thomas sensed something was off and bent down to touch my stomach.

I pulled away again.

"It's nothing. I skipped dinner."

He didn't question it. He just smiled and tapped my nose. "You're a grown woman, and you still get so jealous."

"Alright, I'll have Deidre Chavez make you something you like."

After Thomas left, my hand drifted to my flat stomach, trembling slightly.

The baby was already gone.

The night I saw Bernice at that bus stop, I'd already scheduled the procedure.

When I went to the police station to pay the fine, I had just gotten off the operating table.

A sharp ringtone shattered the silence.

I stared at the familiar number, my brow furrowing.

After a deep breath, I answered.

"Hello, Mom—"

It was Thomas's mother.

Before I could finish, a torrent of curses came crashing through.

"You just let Thomas's scandal sit on the trending page for three days? Do you have any idea how much damage this does to the company?"

"I don't care what you're thinking—get it taken down now!"

She hung up before I could say a word, seething with fury.

My marriage to Thomas had never been a match of equals, but his family couldn't overrule him.

Still, in seven years, I had never once earned the Delgados' approval.

I scrolled through my phone and called the PR firm we worked with, instructing them to bury the trending story.

"Oh, and those press releases I sent you—hold them for three days."

In three days, Thomas and I would go our separate ways.

The next morning, Thomas left early.

I knew where he was going. To pick up Bernice.

For the past two weeks, she'd been riding to work in his car.

That was why Thomas couldn't spare even a single hour to come with me to a prenatal checkup.

While he was at the office, I slipped out to meet some friends—and to say my goodbyes.

"This time it's real?"

"Marilyn, are you sure about this?"

They could hardly believe it. After all, I'd filed for divorce three times and taken him back every single time.

"I've already booked my flight home. I leave in three days."

I watched the foam dissolve slowly in my coffee cup, murmuring half to myself:

"I should have woken up a long time ago. He's not the same Thomas he was at eighteen."

Not the boy who kept soft candies in his pocket just to cheer me up. Not the one who defied his entire family for me.

Seven years. Everything had changed.

Only I had stayed frozen in place, clinging to a version of us that no longer existed.