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.

After saying goodbye to my friends one by one, I was about to get up when I ran straight into someone.

It was Bernice.

"Mrs. Delgado, I wanted to explain—Mr. Delgado and I really aren't what you think."

"I've only been at the company for two weeks, and besides, I'm already married."

Bernice held up her right hand, the diamond on her ring finger catching the light.

I let out a soft laugh, taking my time to look her over.

"You certainly don't hold back, Miss Henson. Fresh out of college and already treating yourself to six-figure handbags and five-figure outfits."

"And that necklace around your neck—that wasn't cheap either, was it?"

Her face flushed instantly. She stammered for a long moment, unable to get a single word out.

I walked past her, giving her shoulder a light pat.

"I've met plenty of women like you."

"You claim there's nothing between you and Thomas, yet you accept everything he gives you—the gifts, the special treatment. You've never once said no, have you?"

Maybe I'd gone too far. Or maybe I'd struck a nerve.

She snapped.

Bernice seized my wrist in a death grip. "You can look down on me all you want, but I won't let you insult me."

"Insult?" I met her gaze. "The fact that you can stand here and say that to my face—that's the insult."

My eyes swept over her, cold and unhurried. Then I shook her off.

Bernice's face went white. She let out a sharp cry and stumbled backward.

Thomas appeared out of nowhere, catching her before she fell.

"Marilyn, who told you to put your hands on her?"

"Apologize. Now."

His eyes were frigid, edged with fury. In that moment, I heard something inside me shatter.

I lowered my gaze and smoothed my sleeve. "My apologies, Miss Henson."

Then I turned and walked away.

Behind me, Bernice's shrill voice rang out. She pushed Thomas away, insisting over and over that there was nothing between them, telling him to stay away from her.

I almost laughed. The performance playing out behind me was nothing short of absurd.

That evening, Thomas came home.

On the coffee table lay a single sheet of paper.

Divorce papers. Already signed—by me.

Thomas glanced at it and actually laughed. He picked up the document and followed me into the bedroom.

"Marilyn, I've spoiled you too much over the years. Made you too naive."

"Divorce me, and what do you get? Do you have any idea how hard it is to find work out there? Without me, you wouldn't survive a day."

I turned to face him, holding his gaze without flinching.

"I was naive. That's the only reason I fell for your lies back then."

Thomas hurled the papers aside and dropped onto the sofa.

He crossed his legs, rubbing the crease between his brows with a smirk. "Marilyn, don't be like this."

"What we had was real. And I still love you now."

"But a lifetime is long. Loving only one person... that's asking too much."

He wasn't wrong.

I believed him.

But we weren't the same. What I'd always wanted was something pure.

"Thomas, I'm not playing games either."

"I want this divorce. Sign the papers, and we can part on good terms."

He opened his mouth to say something, but his phone cut him off—a shrill, urgent ring.

A woman was crying on the other end. He shot to his feet, his expression shifting to barely contained panic as he turned toward the door.

I stepped into his path. "Sign it, and you can go."

Thomas's brow furrowed. With an impatient huff, he snatched the pen and scrawled his name.

"Marilyn, this little hard-to-get routine of yours—you really never get tired of it, do you?"

The door slammed shut.

The house went dark and cold. Dead silent.

Thomas sped all the way to Bernice's place. The moment he knocked, the door flew open and a woman crashed into his arms.