"This new treatment carries certain risks—I might not make it. So I need you to help me tell a little lie to my parents."

"Tell them I died from cancer. If the treatment actually works, I'll come back and give them the surprise of their lives."

I frowned at this.

"You really think they'll buy that?"

"Trust me, my parents are easy to fool. If they insist on seeing my body, just tell them I didn't want them to grieve over a corpse—that I asked you to have me cremated at the funeral home, and you scattered my ashes in the ocean per my final wishes."

"You've really thought this through."

"Tomorrow, let's go finalize the divorce. Then I'll head overseas for treatment."

"You're just going abroad for medical care, not marching off to war. Is divorce really necessary?"

"My junior from college said there's a new policy over there—single men get a discount on the experimental treatment."

"Babe, I'm just trying to save us money. Can't you understand that? Besides, it's only a fake divorce, not a real one. Once I'm better, I'll come back and we'll get remarried."

"If it's for your own good, I won't argue."

"Thanks, babe. You're the best. I love you so much."

Seeing me agree, Corey finally broke into a smile. He cupped my face in his hands and planted a quick kiss on my lips.

The next morning, we went to the county clerk's office and signed the divorce papers.

He said he needed to meet up with his college junior to discuss the overseas treatment arrangements.

Then he left.

Less than thirty minutes later, that same junior of his posted a new video.

"Thanks for all your suggestions, everyone! My dreamy senior successfully faked being sick and escaped his wife's clutches. We've booked our tickets and we're off to Hawaii for vacation!"

"I've been waiting for this day for SO long. Once we get to Hawaii, I'll be posting regular updates about me and my perfect senior."

"Stay tuned to witness our happiness!"

The video included several photos.

No faces were shown, but their fingers were intertwined.

I could clearly see the watch on the man's wrist—the same watch I had personally picked out and given to Corey for his birthday.

If yesterday I only suspected, now I was certain.

The "dreamy senior" she kept gushing about was my husband, Corey Henson.

In that moment, it felt like a boulder had been dropped onto my chest.

I could barely breathe.

We'd been married for years. Happy years. Loving years.

Never once had I imagined that one day he would betray me—with some college junior, no less.

Corey didn't come home that night.

He texted to say he was finalizing the treatment plans with his junior. They'd be boarding their flight first thing in the morning.

I asked if he wanted me to see him off at the airport.

He said there was no need.

After that, my messages sank into silence. No replies.

I set down my phone and drew a long breath.

By now, he was probably tangled up with her somewhere.

If I kept bothering him, I'd just look pathetic.

I lay awake the entire night.

The next day, Corey and his junior appeared at the airport.

Arm in arm. Laughing. Whispering.

Sharing a single cookie between them.

Unable to walk two steps without nuzzling each other.

The way they clung together—they looked more like a married couple than we ever had.

The cruelest part? They walked right past me.

Corey didn't even notice I was there.

I kept my expression blank as I filmed every moment.

Only after they boarded and the plane pulled away from the gate did I finally head home.

Meanwhile, the junior had already posted another update.

The photo showed two hands clasped together as they boarded.

"Attention everyone—me and my dreamy senior are officially taking off!"

Destination: Hawaii.

I must be the happiest woman in the world right now.

The comments section overflowed with envy and congratulations. Mary replied to each one personally, basking in the attention.

Then someone asked: "What about your senior's wife?"

Mary's response came instantly: "Who cares about her? She's just some middle-aged hag—frumpy, unkempt, reeking of desperation."

"My man had to lie next to THAT every night. Can you imagine the torture?"

"But now they're divorced, and he's finally ALL MINE."

"He's free at last!"

Her profile featured videos showing off her face—young, gorgeous, with a body to match. So naturally, no one called her a homewrecker. Instead, they showered her with blessings, gushing about how "true love always finds a way."

My blood boiled. I created a burner account and commented: "Your 'prince charming' got other women pregnant and then heartlessly abandoned them. That doesn't bother you?"

Less than two minutes later, she replied.

"LOL that just proves how irresistible he is! Those women threw themselves at him because he's THAT amazing. They got what they deserved!"

I typed back: "Aren't you worried he might have children out there?"

"Why would I care? Kids or no kids, nothing changes how I feel about him. Besides, his wife got pregnant before, but I convinced him to talk her into aborting it."

The words hit me like a sledgehammer.

Rage exploded behind my eyes.

So that's why. All those years ago, when I'd gotten pregnant and Corey kept finding excuses—"the timing isn't right," "we'll have kids later," "let's wait until we're more stable"—pushing me toward the clinic again and again...

Someone had been pulling his strings all along. Someone had whispered in his ear, convincing him to pressure me into destroying our child.

I never could have imagined.

Corey was capable of this.

Another way to look at it: he'd killed our baby.

I choked down the murderous fury clawing up my throat and typed: "You made him pressure his wife into an abortion. Aren't you afraid of karma?"

Her reply was instantaneous: "Karma? HAHAHA please. There's no such thing as karma."

"As long as he belongs to me and only me—"

"I'd take a lightning strike and call it worth it."

"Anyway, gotta go! We're off to Hawaii for some quality couple time. Bye~ See you in the next video!"

She didn't respond again.

But I had already made a decision. A big one.

A few days later.

We were eating dinner when Victor Henson and Beryl Henson asked where Corey had gone. They hadn't seen him in days.

I hesitated. "Dad, Mom... Corey's been really busy with work."

They looked skeptical but accepted it.

A week later, they were in a car accident.

Beryl died on impact.

Victor was critically injured. The doctors managed to save him, but when he learned his wife was gone—

He wept until he passed out. Then woke and wept again. Three times he lost consciousness from the grief.

I stayed at the hospital for two weeks, taking care of him.

The question he asked most often: "Where's my son?"

I never gave him a straight answer.

Until today.

I had just finished cleaning his bedpan and was walking back into the room when—

Thud.

He dropped to his knees.

"Ann." His voice cracked. "Ever since you married into this family, I've treated you like my own daughter."

He looked up at me, eyes red and swollen, desperation carved into every line of his face.

"Please. Please tell me—what happened to my son? Why won't his phone connect when I call?"

"Ask his colleagues."

"They all said he quit ages ago."

"What on earth happened between you two?"

I hurried to help my father-in-law up from the floor.

There was no hiding it anymore.

I let out a long sigh. "Dad... Corey, he... had cancer. He passed away. The body was cremated, and his ashes were scattered at sea—just like he wanted."

"Wh... what?"

Victor's face went slack with shock.

I lifted a hand to wipe my tears, choking out the rest of the story between sobs.

It had been over two weeks ago, I told him.

Corey had been diagnosed with late-stage liver cancer.

He hadn't wanted his family to suffer.

So he'd chosen to bear it alone, in silence.

"Why didn't he tell us sooner?"

"Corey said... he wanted to keep it from you as long as he could."

"You... you two..."

Grief and fury warred across Victor's face. First his wife, now his son—the double blow was too much. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.

When he came to, he wept until no sound would come.

Later, I received a text from Corey—sent from a number I didn't recognize.

"How are my parents?"

"You didn't tell them the truth, did you?"

I smiled to myself and typed back: "Did exactly what you asked."

"That's my girl. Keep covering for me."

"Something happened at home. Don't you want to come back?"

"I'm busy. Whatever it is, don't bother me."

"Just handle it."

I sent another message.

Silence. Again.

Go ahead, Corey. Keep playing house with your little schoolmate.

A cold smile tugged at my lips.

After that, we stopped communicating entirely.

I only caught glimpses of his life through the videos she posted—the two of them having the time of their lives.

As for home...

Victor was a shell of himself after leaving the hospital. He wandered the house muttering to himself, lost in some private torment. It was obvious he was teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown.

Then one day, he called me to his room.

He pressed a sealed envelope into my hands, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow. "Ann... I can't hold on much longer. I'm afraid I'll lose my mind completely. Before that happens—take this. It's everything the Henson family owns."