My husband's latest lover is a dab hand at making coffee. I'm curious, so I go to her coffee shop to try a cup.

When I get home, my husband grips my neck tightly as he warns, "Stay away from her."

I'm reminded of how he did the same thing to my betrothed at the time before snatching me away.

"Do you like her that much?" I laugh and watch as Ray Prunier loses control.

I guess I'll give him what he wants, then.

My husband, Ray Prunier, repeatedly had affairs, but I never cared about them. I pretended as though they weren't happening, and together, we continued to act like a loving couple in front of others.

Back then, I had to beg my father to allow us to get married. Thus, I refused to allow my marriage to fail. No matter how heartbroken I was, I could only hide under the covers and cry by myself.

Thankfully, Ray's affairs were all casual, so they never threatened our marriage. However, this girl was different. I knew this because I had glimpsed a part of a divorce agreement when I brought Ray some coffee.

Ray was awakened by my movements, took the mug from my hand, and had a small sip. He complained, "It's too bitter. Please don't bring me coffee anymore."

I didn't remember leaving the study, but I recalled how my trembling hands had betrayed my emotions. Afterward, I immediately called someone to look into Ray's most recent girl.

I found out that he often visited one specific coffee shop. Ever since he became successful, his tastes had grown increasingly particular. So now, he only drank coffee made from hand-grounded beans.

It was as if he was trying to shake off his former image of a poor young man. It was to the extent that Ray didn't even glance at cheap little shops anymore. Because of this, I doubted if I was in the right place as I stared at the shop before me.

I carefully compared it with the photo my assistant had sent. It was a budget-friendly and quaint place tucked away in the college district.

The girl in question cheerfully greeted me when I walked in. Her smile was as bright as the sun. My heart jolted upon seeing her—it was no wonder Ray had an affair with her.

"I'm not sure what to order. Could you recommend something to me?" I asked her.

I watched as the girl skillfully made something and added ice to it. Then, she handed me the drink and said, "I hope you enjoy it."

I found a seat by the window before cautiously sipping the coffee. It was too sweet—the saccharine flavor overwhelmed my taste buds.

I abandoned the drink after taking only a sip from it. After leaving behind a tip, I left the shop.

Ray came home drunk that night. He reeked so strongly of alcohol that I had to pinch my nose. With a glass of water in my hand, I walked around his side of the bed to mine.

"Take a shower. I can't sleep when you stink so badly," I admonished him. I didn't know when it started, but my relationship with Ray was now estranged.

We had been married for seven years. Now, the passion we once felt for each other had faded, leaving only disgust behind.

Ray turned over and deliberately rubbed his stank onto me.

Angered, I slapped him. Then, I said, "I went to a coffee shop today. It was near our old college. I never noticed it before—"

He cut off the rest of my words by grabbing my throat.

"You went to see her?" he questioned.

I instantly knew who Ray was referring to. In the past, I had always ignored his transgressions and been unconcerned about them. But this time, I didn't.

"That's right. That little vixen is seducing my husband. Can't I teach her a lesson?" I shot back harshly.

I felt him gradually squeezing my throat at my deliberate words.

Ray's tone was threatening as he said, "I'm warning you, leave her alone."

I laughed at this. Tears stung the corner of my eyes as I cackled on. I could feel my lungs running out of oxygen, and my eyes started to roll backward.

Ray released his grip just as I was about to lose consciousness. I collapsed close to the edge of the bed, coughing for a long time. He had left a hideous handprint on my neck.

"She is my bottom line, Claire Fort. I will make life difficult for you and your family if you dare mess with her," Ray warned. Then, he slammed the door on the way out.

I sat pensively on the bed. In my near-death moment, I only thought of one thing—Ray would actually kill me because of that girl.

The girl's name was Nadia Rivera. She was a student who lived in the college district.

Nadia was still studying, but her family wasn't well-off. Because of this, she worked part-time at the coffee shop near her college every day.

Three months ago, Ray started frequenting the coffee shop for his coffee. Sometimes, he would even sit there the whole day and not go to the office.

"Do you like her that much? So much so that you're willing to choke me to death over her?" I murmured to myself.

I recalled how Ray had once done the same for me but to someone else. He had threatened, "She's my wife now, so stay away from her."

Ray and I had met in college. At the time, he was still a broke college student who had to work three jobs a day just to get by. He used to be a campus errand boy and had spilled the coffee I ordered all over me.

I didn't make a fuss back then. It was just a piece of clothing, after all. I could have someone buy a new one for me within 10 minutes.

Ray had flushed red from embarrassment as he apologized to me. The next day, he returned the dress I had been wearing. It had smelled strongly of laundry detergent.

He carefully avoided my fingers when handing it back to me, and his clumsiness was adorable. I found Ray interesting and asked him to buy me coffee once he got his salary.

Back then, I had pretended to have mature tastes and ordered an iced long black coffee. The drink was so bitter that it made me scrunch up my face. Later, Ray secretly added double shots of milk and sugar.

"Ugh, too sweet," he had commented after. We were young and bashful back then and would blush just from whispering to each other. But now…

I examined myself in the mirror. My hair was disheveled, and the red handprint mark on my neck looked horrifying.

Afterward, I spent hours rummaging around the house for the first aid kit. However, I couldn't find it.

In the past, Ray would frantically carry me to the bed if I had accidentally bumped into the table. Then, he would quickly fetch band-aids and anti-inflammatory cream.

I was curled up on the bathroom floor when my phone vibrated—it was a text from Ray. It read, "Let's get a divorce."

The message included a divorce agreement stating that the house and car would be mine—he was leaving everything behind for Nadia.

Putting on a turtleneck sweater, I hailed a cab to his office. It was the first time I had visited him there.

The receptionist asked if I had an appointment.

"No, just tell Ray Prunier that his wife is downstairs," I stated.

The receptionist sneered at this.

"That's not how you climb the ladder, miss. We've all seen Mr. Prunier's wife. You'd better run along before I call security," she said derisively.

My hands balled into fists as the image of Nadia's bright, smiling face flashed in my mind.