Eight years of marriage, and my wife and I never fought. We were the neighborhood's golden couple.

Our friends were green with envy over our relationship, calling us a model couple.

But it was all fake. My wife and kid weren't really mine.

*****

If I hadn't had that business trip to Seaville, I'd never have heard with my own ears that my wife had been cheating on me for ages.

"Frederick... Babe, I love you." The room echoed with comfy moans now and then. It was clear what was happening, and the woman in the mix was none other than my wife, Claire Lambert.

A deep voice chimed in, "You're such a siren. Who's better, huh? Me or Yosef Lambert?

Between loud moans, Claire responded, "Oh, definitely you. I barely slept with him. And I really don't like him. I wouldn't have married him if it weren't for you."

Frederick laughed smugly, "Does Yosef even know that Bella is our kid? He thinks she's his daughter, doesn't he?"

Claire giggled. "Of course. Why else would I have married him? Just because I was pregnant. If it weren't for my mom making me get married, he wouldn't have been my pick. Everyone at Worania University knew Yosef had a crush on me for three years."

"Because you're charming, Claire. When are you gonna divorce that damn loser?" Frederick asked.

Claire, annoyed, said, "It's so annoying. Yosef just won't agree to a divorce. I'll make it happen when I get back."

"Well, make sure you squeeze him for plenty of alimony and a fat divorce settlement," Frederick added.

Claire promised confidently, "For sure. And even if I can't, I've got you, babe, right?"

Their voice went on and off in the room.

I was standing outside the door, flowers in hand, ready to surprise my wife. Instead, she surprised me.

Claire never called me "babe" or anything sweet like that. Once, when I asked her why, she dismissed it with, "Why should I have to call you like that? 'Yosef' just rolls off the tongue, and I'm used to it."

Back then, madly in love, those little things didn't bother me. All I cared about was marrying the woman of my dreams. Love had me completely blinded.

There I was, frozen outside the presidential suite, teeth clenched, fists tight, breathing hard, my body trembling.

I realized, "Claire always knew I had a crush on her.

Bella isn't even my own.

Claire's still in touch with her first love."

I couldn't even remember how I made it back home from Seaville.

I slumped on the couch, looking drained and pale, still clutching those wilted flowers.

The voices of Claire and Frederick kept echoing in my ears, loud and torturous.

Our 32-inch wedding photo hung on the clean white wall, mocking me, as if saying, "Look at you, can't even keep your own wife in line."

My head felt like it was about to burst.

With bloodshot eyes, I held my head and roared, "No, it's not true. She does love me. She must!"

But deep down, I knew everything Claire had said was true.

I took a cold shower in a daze, then lay on the bed staring at the ceiling.

The silence in the room was shattered by my phone's distinct ringtone.

I checked my phone, and there were messages from Claire.

[Yosef, go like my Instagram post.]

[I'll be home tomorrow. I have something important to discuss. You need to be home by 4 PM.]

I didn't reply. Instead, I checked Claire's Instagram and stared long at her latest photo.

It was a night shot from a hotel's presidential suite overlooking the city, captioned: [The Seaville nightscape is as enchanting as ever.]

Our mutual friends, mostly college mates, had commented.

[Wow, staying in that presidential suite must be at least 20,000 dollars a night.]

[Claire, you two are still so lovey-dovey after eight years. Are you guys on another honeymoon? Us singles are so jealous.]

[Claire, lucky you, married to such a great guy.]

There were loads more comments like these. I couldn't help but sneer.

I thought, "Did she just post this after sleeping with Frederick?"

Frederick had also posted on Instagram. His photo featured a woman's bare shoulders and a man's chest, with the caption: [Only she can make me feel this relaxed and happy.]

Their posts were only a minute apart.

There were no comments under Frederick's post, not even a like from Claire.

I knew it was Frederick's way of taunting me, making his post visible only to me.

Claire never missed a thing on Frederick's Instagram. She was always quick to like and comment on his updates.

I left a comment, liked it, and saved a screenshot.

"Claire, you want a divorce? I'll give you that. But you can forget about any settlement, since you cheated," I thought to myself.

In my dream, I was back in college.

Coming from a family of traditional farmers in a remote area, attending college made me the hope of my whole family.

At Worania University, it was a whole other world, full of rich kids and legacy students. I felt inferior and out of place, barely recognizing the luxury brands and fancy cars they talked about, all way out of my league.

I figured if I hit the books hard enough, I could eventually be like them and even bring my parents to live in the city.

I harbored a secret crush on Claire, the most sought-after girl on campus, who was also in my department. She was the only one who didn't mock me. Her looks were soft and kind, and man, did I fall hard.

Dreams, however, can shatter. And mine did.

Someone had plastered my private notes about my crush on Claire all over the campus bulletin board. By the time I saw it, everyone was sneering and laughing as they passed me.

I ran away in humiliation.

In the men's bathroom, I got a beating that left me bruised and battered. I couldn't fight back as my arms were held by two guys.

"Is this the guy?" someone asked.

The guy holding my left arm jeered, "Yeah, Frederick, this loser. This ugly motherfucker thinks he can date the hottest girl on campus. Look at him!" And then he socked me in the gut.

As I spit out blood, I managed, "Frederick?"

The guy on my right cackled, "Frederick, he's been pining over Claire for a whole semester. I ripped his diary out and stuck it on the board. As if he could ever get with her. How pathetic."

Frederick, taking a drag from his cigarette, just stared down at me and said coldly, "Right, pathetic. You guys deal with him." Then he walked off.

Through the kicks and punches, I figured out that this 'Frederick' was the notorious rich kid from Worania University.

The bullying didn't stop until Frederick left for abroad. It shadowed me throughout my college years.

I woke up yelling, sitting up in a sweat-soaked bed.

It was the same nightmare I hadn't had in five years.

I turned to look out the window at the dawn lightening the sky. It was morning already.

Bella must have heard me scream. She knocked on my bedroom door, calling out, "Dad, Dad, are you okay?"

Her voice snapped me back to reality.

"I'm okay, sweetheart. I just had a bad dream," I reassured her.

"Come on, Dad, you big sleepyhead. The sun's high in the sky. Come have breakfast with me," Bella said in her sweet, childish voice.

I got up, straightened myself out, and said, "Alright, I'm coming."

Watching Bella eat, with crumbs around her mouth, I couldn't help but smile.

But the thought that she was Frederick and Claire's child wiped that smile away.

Then my phone buzzed with a text from Claire: [I'm at the airport. Come pick me up.] She even added an angry emoji.

That was classic Claire. It was like she had every right to boss me around.

She never cared how I felt. As a human being, I needed love. Even a simple "Thanks, babe" would have made me feel loved, but she never bothered.

I texted Claire back: [Can't today, swamped. Got a thing tonight. Let's talk tomorrow.]

"Is Mom coming back?" Bella asked excitedly.

A twinge of sadness hit me as I looked at Bella. Sure, she was Frederick's, but she was always such a sweet, clingy kid.

Despite knowing the truth, I was ready to keep raising Bella as my own.

I thought about giving Claire one more chance. If she could cut Frederick off completely, maybe I could still see her as my wife, the only woman I'd love.

I knew it was a long shot, but part of me clung to that hope. Claire and I did share eight years of our lives, after all.

As I headed out, Claire sent another message: [I don't give a shit about you. Since you won't be at home, I'll say it now. I want a divorce. I've signed the papers and sent them to your office. I want Bella and 200,000 dollars a month for child support. Plus, half your assets.]

I felt this was too complex to settle over texts and decided to give Claire one last chance to explain herself, so I replied: [We need to talk when I get home.]

I turned off my phone, eager to get my engagement over with and head home.

Little did I know, my hesitation would cost my mother, Margaret, her life. I finally made a decision to get a divorce with Claire.

I saw Claire again at the hospital.

She had called my assistant Zack to say that Margaret was in the ICU.

I was drinking when I heard the news and instantly sobered up. Without thinking about the risks of drunk driving, I grabbed the keys from Zack and sped to the hospital.

Margaret's birthday was just three days away.

My father had died the year Claire and I got married. As Margaret aged, her health had declined.

Ever since my business took off, I'd made a point to celebrate her birthday with Bella every year. This year was supposed to be no different.

I'd promised Margaret a month ago that we'd throw a big party for her at home.

But Claire's mess had distracted me, and I'd forgotten all about it.

I turned on my phone and found several messages from Margaret.

She'd seen Claire's Instagram post about coming home. Margaret had tried to call Claire many times to tell her the party would be at our house, but couldn't reach her.

Thinking of Bella, Margaret had bought all of Bella's favorite snacks and headed over to my new house.

The cold wind sobered me up completely as I drove.

Arriving at the hospital, I didn't bother to park properly. I sprinted toward the entrance.

At the emergency room doors, I faced a moment I'd never forget.

Covered up, Margaret was being wheeled out.

I stumbled to her side, collapsing in tears on the white sheet. The pain was overwhelming.

The doctor gently said, "I'm sorry, sir."

I looked up, choking out, "How did my mother die?"

"She had a heart attack, triggered by extreme distress. She arrived too late for us to save her. I'm sorry, there was nothing we could do," the doctor explained.

'Extreme stress' echoed painfully in my head.

As the doctor walked away, I knew they were taking Margaret to the morgue.

Anger surged through me. "Why did Mom end up in the hospital right after visiting my house? Claire, what the hell happened?"

I grabbed Claire's arm, furious, and shouted, "What the hell did you do?"

Claire, seeing Margaret being wheeled away, was frozen in shock, unable to snap out of it.

Claire's blank stare only fueled my anger.

I swung my hand up and slapped her across the face. She came to her senses and screamed, "Yosef, are you crazy? How dare you hit me!"

I laughed bitterly, tears streaming down my face. "Yeah, Claire, I am crazy! My mother just died! She was only three days shy of her 60th birthday!"

Claire was speechless.

Just then, Frederick, feigning regret, chimed in, "I'm sorry, Yosef, this is all my fault. If it weren't for..."

Claire, annoyed by Frederick being so humble, cut him off, "No, it's not your fault. It was that damn old woman barging in without knocking. She brought it on herself!"

Her words were so vile, and I nearly slapped at her again.

Zack rushed over and held me back, saying, "Mr. Lambert, stop. You could get arrested for this."

I shrugged off Zack's grip, shouting, "Let go. I'm going to make those two pay for my mother's death today!"

My outburst scared Claire, and Frederick quickly led her away.

Watching them flee, I vowed quietly, "Claire, I will make you and Frederick pay for my mother's death."

Zack, seeing how upset I was, suggested, "Mr. Lambert, should I look into why your mother was brought to the hospital?"

That reminded me.

We had installed cameras at home. Claire didn't like having a nanny around, but since she was rarely home, I had hired a part-time nanny to watch over Bella. Concerned for Bella's safety, I had installed hidden cameras.

I immediately pulled up the surveillance footage on my phone.

The image of a lively Margaret on the screen filled me with sadness.

I scrolled to the part where Margaret arrived at my house.

What I saw next in the footage made my blood boil again. I gripped my phone so tightly it almost cracked.

"Claire, Frederick! How dare you do such a thing in front of my mother?" I raged silently.