###4

In an instant, cold sweat drenched my back.

The lingering injury from the accident flared again, my previously fractured leg sending waves of pain with every heartbeat. I had no choice but to borrow a room to rest.

But all the organizers gave me was a cold, pitch-dark utility closet.

The moment I stepped inside, I heard a sharp “click” from the outside. The lock.

“Stephen has always loved me. You pitiful woman who threw herself at him, so what if you were married for decades? He never loved you!”

Outside, Eleanor’s voice rang with cruel delight.

“You saw it yourself, didn’t you? I sat in the front passenger seat next to Stephen tonight. This couture gown I’m wearing? A gift from your daughter. This limited-edition Cartier watch? Your son bought it for me. They all adore me, not you!”

My leg throbbed with unbearable pain. Drenched in sweat, I rattled the door, my voice shaking.

“You can have him and them, all of them! Just let me go to the hospital. I’m begging you!”

“Stop dreaming. I won’t let you out to steal the spotlight. Tonight, stay here and learn your place.”

Then, she hung a “Do Not Disturb – Under Maintenance” sign on the handle. The click of her heels echoed down the hall, growing fainter with every step.

I collapsed onto the cold floor, drained and defeated. Reaching for my phone, I realized with horror it was dead.

“Help me!”

I slammed my fists against the locked door, shouting until my voice broke, but the room was too remote, the night too quiet. No one came.

In the end, the pain consumed me, and everything faded to black.

Two hours later, when the banquet had ended, Stephen still hadn’t seen me. He looked around with a frown of irritation.

“Didn’t I tell her to behave and stay put? Where did she run off to?”

Eleanor clung to his arm, biting her lip with feigned guilt. “Did she leave because you called me your wife? If I’d known she’d be hurt, I would’ve explained it to her.”

But Stephen only replied with a scoff.

“Everyone tonight was high society. Do you really think her disheveled look wouldn’t have embarrassed me? Eleanor, I’m grateful you were by my side. You helped me save face.”

“Victoria is always so dramatic. Let her sulk. Let’s go home.”

Eleanor glanced smugly toward the utility room, the corner of her lips lifting in silent triumph.

And I was locked away in that dark room, was left forgotten. Not a single soul in that family remembered me.

The next morning, when Henry had to be taken to school, my son finally remembered I existed.

“Why isn’t she here yet? Do you even know what time it is?!”

But when my phone went unanswered, he didn’t bother calling again.

Instead, he waved it off and told the nanny to take Henry.

I was finally let out by a hotel staff member.

After charging my phone, there were no messages from Stephen asking where I was or expressing concern. What I did see was a blaring headline lighting up the screen.

[The long-absent Mrs. Mortimer, wife of the Mortimer Group president, turns out to be a renowned sculptor. A match made in heaven, a truly gifted man and elegant woman.]

Weak and numb, I stared at the screen and gave a bitter smile.

Then my phone rang.

For a fleeting second, I thought maybe it was Stephen.

But no. The name flashing on the screen was Edmund. I picked up, and his voice came through instantly, tight with worry.

“Victoria, I called you all night! What the hell happened? Are you alright now?”

###5

It turned out Edmund had seen the trending headlines last night. Fearing I might do something reckless, he had searched for me the entire night.

I never imagined the only warmth left in my world would come from someone outside the family.

My eyes reddened, and I choked back tears. “I… I’m okay…”

“No, you’re not,” he said, his voice dropping into a stormy calm. “You’re not okay at all. I’m cutting my trip short. I’ll come get you.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry…”

“You never have to say that to me, Victoria. My feelings have never changed.”

Years ago, Edmund had once pursued me. But back then, I had been hopelessly in love with Stephen, blind to everyone else.

I never thought that, after thirty years, he would still hold a place for me in his heart.

When I returned home from the hospital, I found Eleanor draped across Stephen’s black bed, wearing a loose men’s shirt and holding a glass of champagne. Her legs were shamelessly splayed.

Stephen had always been obsessed with cleanliness. He used to hate me, leaving even a trace of scent in his room.

Twenty years ago, when his business had yet to flourish, he offended an important client because of his temper.

To salvage the situation, I drank until I nearly suffered a gastric hemorrhage.

But when I stumbled back home that night, he didn’t offer a word of concern. He only wrinkled his nose in disdain and stopped me at the door.

“You stink. Wash it off yourself.”

I had been left outside in the snow all night. By the time I dragged myself back to my room at dawn, my body was burning with fever, and it lasted an entire week.

And now, Eleanor, reeking of alcohol, lay sprawled comfortably in his bed.

So, all those rigid rules were only meant for me.

She rose slowly, deliberately tugging open the shirt that still carried Stephen’s scent, exposing the crimson hickeys blooming across her skin.

“Stephen was wild last night. He went at it for hours. Said you were as stiff as a board, boring as hell. You never knew how to please him.”

I felt nauseated like bile rising up my throat, but I forced it back down and looked her straight in the eye, cold and unfazed.

“So what? Eleanor, you’re still just a mistress.”

The word struck her like a slap. Her eyes darkened with venom. But then, she rolled them with exaggerated flair, grabbed the glass beside her, and smashed it to the floor.

A sharp cry followed as she collapsed to the ground.

“Eleanor!”

Stephen burst through the door, eyes wide with panic. He rushed to her side, cradling her like porcelain.

Tears clung to her lashes as she whimpered, “I just wanted to explain last night to Victoria, but she told me to die and pushed me into the glass…”

Stephen held her bleeding hand, just a shallow cut, yet his expression twisted with heartbreak, his eyes bloodshot with fury as they turned to me.

“Apologize to Eleanor!”

A tidal wave of grievance surged through me, and I cried out in despair, “I didn’t do anything! She—”

“I’d better leave before Victoria finds another way to hurt me!”

Eleanor’s wailing cut me off as she pretended to pull away from Stephen’s embrace.

But instead of pushing her away, he held her even tighter, as if she were the most fragile treasure in the world. His eyes burned into me with contempt.

“You’re so petty and small-minded. Go reflect on yourself.”

And with that, he left, taking Eleanor to see a doctor as if I were the criminal.

Later, the bodyguards dragged me into the basement like a discarded object. I had no choice but to call my son for help.

Arthur’s voice on the line was cold and sharp.

“I already heard from Dad. You went too far. It was just a little misunderstanding, and you actually hurt Aunt Eleanor?”

“Mom, can’t you learn to be more like her? Be graceful for once. Stop embarrassing the family.”

My heart froze.

I stared at the screen, tears falling without end. My fingers trembled as I hung up in silence.

Stephen was determined to punish me. He didn’t even allow a drop of water.

After a day and night of silent suffering, my foot throbbed with unbearable pain. At last, the old housekeeper, unable to stand it anymore, secretly let me out.

Just as I arrived at the hospital, I saw Eleanor’s latest post on Instagram.

The first photo showed Stephen’s back as he ran hospital errands for her. The second was a pregnancy report.

[With a man who truly loves you, the sense of security is overwhelming.]

Beneath the post, the Mortimer family lit up the comments.

My son: [Congrats to Dad for winning back the heart of his goddess.]

My daughter, writing from overseas: [Didn’t you used to joke about borrowing some sperm to have a baby? Looks like your hard work with my father paid off. Congrats!]

My daughter-in-law: [We absolutely need to throw a party for you two.]

Then came a reply from Stephen himself.

[Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m just helping Eleanor. If you keep stirring things up, are you trying to push your mother and me to divorce?]

At once, my son and daughter-in-law replied together. [Got it. We won’t say more.]

But then my daughter wrote. [Everyone knows you’ve never let go of Aunt Eleanor. Why not follow your heart? We support you.]

I never thought the child I loved most would say something like that.

She respected her powerful father, but her own mother, less graceful and less impressive, could never compare to Eleanor. In their eyes, I didn’t deserve to be his wife, nor their mother.

So, all those years I gave and all the sacrifices I made were worthless.

Now that the marriage had shattered and the family I once protected had turned cold, I had nothing left to lose.

I typed slowly on my phone.

[Congrats on having a child in your old age. Don’t worry, I won’t interfere with your happy family. Stephen and I are getting divorced.]

The moment I hit send, my phone started ringing.

###6

“What kind of nonsense is that? Eleanor and I aren’t what you think. She wanted a child, and I simply donated sperm to help her.”

I wiped my swollen, burning eyes and let out a bitter laugh. “Oh? Since when did infidelity come with such a noble excuse?”

Just as I said it, I looked up, and there they were. Stephen and Eleanor stroll down the hospital corridor side by side.

The moment he saw me, his face darkened. He marched over, waving his phone accusingly.

“What are you doing here? Are you following us?”

Leaning on my crutch, I replied calmly, “My foot hurt, and I was lightheaded from hunger. I came for a checkup.”

Eleanor snorted. “Come on, Victoria. You’ve always acted like nothing could bring you down. What’s with all these sudden little ailments?”

Stephen’s anger faltered for a second. His eyes lingered on my pale lips and unsteady steps. His voice dropped, softer.

“What happened to your foot? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I looked at him in silence, a cold smirk tugging at my lips.

Why did it hurt? Even now, he still believed the accident had been a performance.

He had vanished for a full week to celebrate with his lover. When he returned and saw me limping on a crutch, he sneered and said I was getting better at faking pain just to earn his sympathy.

He had locked me in the basement to “teach me a lesson” for her sake. I could already imagine the humiliation waiting on the other end.

But since I was leaving anyway, there was nothing more to say.

I bit my lip, said nothing, and bore it in silence.

Seeing me like that, something must have finally registered. His expression shifted with unease. He grabbed my hand, panic slipping into his voice.

“Eleanor and I only went through a medical procedure, I swear. She and the baby won’t affect our marriage. Tomorrow’s our 30th anniversary, I’ve planned a surprise for you.”

Watching him act, watching him grasp at whatever script he thought would move me, I almost laughed.

“I’ve got a surprise for you too.”

Perhaps out of guilt, he personally arranged my hospital admission and even ran out to buy me fruit. A rare sight.

My son and his wife also showed up, looking awkward and hesitant, trying to smooth things over.

“Dad and Aunt Eleanor, they’re not what you think.”

“Mom, they ended things thirty years ago. They’re just friends now.”

“Yeah. Friends who do artificial insemination. I’m tired. If that’s all, you can go.”

They stared at me in shock. I’d always spoken gently to them. My sarcasm now struck like a slap.

At that moment, my phone buzzed with a new message.

[I’m coming to get you tonight. Ready? Doesn’t matter. I’ll carry you if I have to.]

Without a word, I typed back: [Be on time.]

Stephen walked in with a bag of fruit, his eyes lingering on my phone. “Who are you messaging?” he asked quietly.

“Credit card company. It’s time to pay the bill.”

He chuckled lightly. “If you need money, just tell me. All these years, it’s not like I’ve ever let you go without.”

Right. Even beggars on the street didn’t starve.

That day, Stephen played the role of a devoted husband, pouring tea, peeling fruit, and buying dinner.

But I knew better. It wasn’t love. It was guilt.

As night settled in, his phone rang.

He took one look, locked the screen, and quickly tucked it away. Then he leaned down, kissed my forehead, and murmured, “There’s an emergency at the office. I’ll be back soon. Get some rest.”

Minutes after he left in a rush, a message popped up on my phone.

[Don’t get smug, bitch. One call from me and he’s already not coming back to you tonight.]

Attached was a photo of him kneeling on the ground, reverently kissing her stomach.

I turned off my phone, opened the cabinet, pulled out my suitcase, and walked out of the hospital.

A Bentley waited under the streetlamp. The window rolled down, revealing the refined, handsome face of a mature man.

Once inside the car, I opened my social media and carefully selected several photos to share.

One of the wedding ring and divorce agreement resting in the safe.

One of my hospitalization records after the car accident.

One of them, tangled together in passion at a hotel while I was clinging to life.

And lastly, a photo of my notebook, where I had quietly documented sixty-six moments of heartbreak.

When the clock struck midnight, I pressed send, tagging Stephen. [After the 66th disappointment, I’m finally free. Hope you enjoy this 30th anniversary surprise. Happy divorce.]