I lifted my head, meeting his bloodshot eyes with a cold, mocking smile.

“Six years, Rio. Six years. I gave up my career for you. I cooked for you, bent over backward to please your family and friends. And after everything, you still never truly saw me. You think I’m playing a game?”

My voice wasn’t loud, but every word cut like a blade, sinking deep into his heart.

He froze, as if seeing me clearly for the first time, a flicker of panic flashing in his eyes.

“Hazel, I—”

“Tell me, Rio. Have you ever, even once, loved me? Did you ever care about me at all?”

His face paled. His lips parted, but no words came out.

“That’s what I thought.” I bent down, calmly picking up the clothes he had tossed aside. I folded them neatly and placed them back into my suitcase.

“Saw the latest headlines about you and Bethany. Congratulations. You’re finally free of me. Now you can chase after your true love.”

I struggled, but his grip was ironclad, trapping me in his arms. A sharp pain shot through my lip as I tasted blood—he had bitten me. The sting jolted me back to reality, filling me with revulsion.

This wasn’t love. It was hate. Possession. Unwillingness to let go.

“Let me go!” I screamed, thrashing against him, but Rio only pressed closer. His breath was hot against my skin, thick with the stench of alcohol and Bethany’s perfume—the one she always wore.

“Drop the act,” he murmured, his grip tightening. “You spent six years trying to please me. Now, I’ll give you what you want."

A sharp pain shot through me, but the ache in my heart was far worse.

Six years. I gave him everything. And this was what I got in return.

“Rio,” I choked out, my voice hoarse, “you disgust me.”

When it was over, the room was a mess.

Rio stood at the edge of the bed, staring down at me, his face unreadable. Silence stretched between us before he finally turned away. I heard the sound of running water. Then, without a word, he returned and scooped me up.

“Let me clean you up,” he said, his voice low, devoid of emotion.

I turned my face away, refusing to meet his eyes, refusing to acknowledge his touch.

“Fuck off.”

He ignored me. I was too drained to fight him. My body was numb, my mind empty. Warm water cascaded over my skin, but it couldn’t wash away the filth, the disgust that had seeped into my bones.

“Does it hurt?” His voice was softer now, almost careful. “I’m sorry if I was too rough. I drank too much last night.”

I shut my eyes. Hurt? Nothing could hurt more than realizing my heart had died.

Memories of the man he used to be flickered through my mind like a cruel, broken film reel.

Five years ago, Rio was gentle, considerate. He used to wake up early to make me breakfast, hold me close every night before we fell asleep.

He remembered my favorite flowers, planned surprises for my birthday. When work stressed me out, he would comfort me, encourage me. When I was sick, he never left my side. Back then, I thought I had found the man I would grow old with. I gave up my rising career for him, devoted myself to being the perfect wife, managing everything for him.

I even learned how to cook for him, how to please his family and friends. I thought my dedication would eventually earn his love and appreciation. I was wrong.

The moment Bethany appeared, all my sacrifices became a joke. He looked at her with a love and tenderness he never once gave me. He bought her expensive jewelry, threw lavish birthday parties for her, did all the romantic things I once dreamed of. Meanwhile, I became invisible.

He grew distant. Cold. Indifferent. He forgot my birthday. Forgot my favorite things. Forgot the promises he once made to me.

“Hazel, I will love you forever. Only you. I’ll never let you go.”

After what happened that night, Rio assumed I would act like I always did—swallow my pain, endure his temper, pretend nothing had happened. Maybe he thought a warm bath could wash away my humiliation, could cleanse him of his sins.

He was wrong. Some things, once shattered, could never be pieced back together.

His phone rang, slicing through the stillness. The name on the screen blinked. Beth.

Without hesitation, he answered, his voice shifting to gentle and affectionate, the complete opposite of the man who had just shredded me with his words.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?”

Bethany’s sugary voice poured through the speaker, laced with a childish whine, “What are you doing?”

“I’m just finishing something up, baby.”

“I miss you.”

“You miss me? Well, I miss you too.” Rio chuckled, his tone dripping with indulgence. “What do you want to eat? I’ll grab it on the way.” He didn’t even try to hide it. He flirted with her as though I wasn’t there, as though I didn’t exist.

I closed my eyes, sucking in a sharp breath, trying my hardest not to gag.

Then it hit me—the deafening crack of my heart breaking. My eyes snapped open as something rose in my throat. I sat up straight and gagged.

“What now?” he snapped, irritated.

“I feel sick,” I wiped my mouth, glaring at him. “I feel sick just looking at you,” I added coldly.

He didn’t care. He didn’t care about the dry heaving or the hatred in my eyes. As he buttoned his shirt, he shot me a condescending glance.

“Oh, please.” I could practically hear the eye roll in his voice. “If you were so miserable, why didn’t you say anything? Are you trying to put on a show? Gosh, you’re as dramatic as ever.”

He grabbed his coat and made for the door, pausing for a second before adding, without turning around, “And don’t even bring up divorce again. It’s getting old.”

The moment the door slammed shut, I rushed to the sink, gagging violently. My stomach twisted in agony as I vomited until there was nothing left.

“Rio, you bastard.” My voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto my face before lifting my gaze to the mirror.

Pale. Haggard. Broken. The woman staring back at me was a ghost of who I used to be. I let out a bitter laugh. Was this really me?

For days, I had been plagued by nausea, unable to keep anything down. At first, I thought it was just the sheer disgust from everything Rio and Bethany had done to me. But as I lowered my gaze, dread pooled in my stomach.

Two red lines. Stark. Unmistakable.

I was pregnant. With Rio’s child.

Isn’t that just the cruelest kind of irony? The moment I finally decided to walk away from this marriage, life threw this at me.

Should I get rid of it? My fingers tightened around the small plastic device, my mind spinning. My hand instinctively went to my stomach, where a fragile life—my flesh and blood—was beginning to grow. But I couldn’t imagine raising this child in a home without a father.

There was no way I’d tell Rio. He’d just see it as another one of my schemes, another trick to trap him. Fine. If he could be heartless, then I could be ruthless.

The surgery was scheduled for seven days later.

For the next few days, I drifted through life like a ghost, mechanically going through the motions—work, eat and sleep—trying to numb my heart. But my dreams betrayed me.

At night, I’d see Rio. He’d hold me gently, his hands caressing my stomach, his eyes filled with love. He’d whisper that he would take care of me and the baby, promising me the happiness I had always longed for. I would smile, but as the dream unfolded, tears would slip from my eyes.

And then I would wake up. My pillow would be soaked. It had all been a dream. But the pain was real—sharp, gut-wrenching, inescapable.

Reality was crueler than any nightmare.

Rio never came back. He was still with Bethany, plastered all over the tabloids, flaunting their love for the whole world to see.

On my phone screen, Bethany’s heavily made-up face loomed large, curled up in Rio’s arms, posing seductively for the camera. A message followed.

“Hazel, did you see this? This is your husband. Look how much he loves me. He can’t get enough of me.”

He taunt continued, “You’re nothing but his pet. A dog he can kick aside whenever he pleases. Woof woof, are you wagging your tail yet?”

Then came Rio’s low chuckle in the video. His fingers pinched Bethany’s cheek.

“Don’t be so mean, baby. She’s served me for years and…”

His words trailed off, but that sneering tone—more venomous than any curse—made me sick to my stomach.

I stared at the screen, feeling my stomach churn, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t throw up. I’d already been vomiting bile for days. I threw away everything that reminded me of Rio over the last six years—photos, gifts, clothes—nothing was left.

Bethany, you won. You succeeded in making me sick, in making me utterly lose faith in this marriage, in this man.

Dragging my tired body home, I had hoped for some semblance of comfort from my family. Even just a simple greeting would have sufficed. But instead, I was met with a barrage of harsh words.

“Look at you! You’re way too old to still be acting like a child!”

My mother’s sharp voice pierced the air, each word a knife twisting into my already shattered heart.

“Rio has everything. Why didn’t you just appreciate him? Why should you go for divorce? Have you lost your mind?”

I gave a bitter smile. In their eyes, Rio’s good qualities mattered more than my happiness.

Their so-called concern was nothing but fear of losing their cash cow.

“He cheated on me,” I said it weakly, my voice hoarse.

“Men fool around all the time. What rich man doesn’t have a mistress? Just turn a blind eye and move on!”

My little brother Nate, who lived off my support, now had the nerve to lecture me, “You really are out of your mind. As long as he’s giving you money, who cares what he does? You’re lucky he even married you!”

I looked at their greedy faces and suddenly, I felt so tired, so drained.

Family, it turns out, wasn’t much of a sanctuary when money was involved.

I always thought home was supposed to be a refuge, a safe place.

But now, I realized there was no escape.

The day before my surgery, Rio asked to meet. He wanted to talk about the divorce papers. I thought, maybe, just maybe, he had finally come to his senses. Maybe he felt a shred of guilt, a hint of pity. But when I opened the door, it wasn’t Rio. It was Bethany, all decked out in thick makeup and a glaring red dress.

“You didn’t really think Rio would divorce you, did you, Hazel? He’s just playing you,” she sneered, her voice dripping with mockery.