Ninety-nine. That was the number of times my husband, Colton, had betrayed me. But the hundredth infidelity was the one that severed the last thread of my sanity: Elaine, my best friend.

When Colton walked in and saw the dossier of photos spread across the bed, he didn't even look shocked. He just sighed, dismissing my pain as if it were a clerical error.

"I want a divorce," I said, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. "I want you out of my house, and I want you out of my company. I built Vance Tech while you were failing economics. I’m taking it all back."

"You aren't going anywhere," he said, stepping closer. "You’re my wife. You don't get to ruin my reputation. You belong to me."

He crossed the room in two strides, grabbing my arm hard enough to bruise and shoving me backward onto the bed. When I screamed, he pinned my wrists, his weight crushing the breath from my lungs.

I tried to resist, but then he forced himself on me. And when I reported it to the police, they laughed at me.

"Mrs. Vance, go home. Sleep it off."

"Excuse me?" I stared at him. "I’m trying to file a report for attempted rape."

"You’re married," the officer said, his tone patronizing, as if explaining gravity to a toddler. "You can't rape your wife. That’s part of the deal, sweetheart. It’s a domestic dispute. We don't get involved in bedroom quarrels."

"It wasn't a quarrel! It was assault!" I slammed my hand on the desk. "He hurt me!"

Twenty minutes later, Colton walked in.

"She’s been under so much pressure," Colton told the police, holding his hands up in a gesture of helplessness. "She’s been seeing things. Paranoia. She thinks everyone is against her."

"I’m not paranoid!" I screamed as two officers grabbed my arms. "He’s lying! Check the bruises!"

"Self-inflicted," Colton said sadly. "She does it for attention."

"Take her to St. Jude’s," the sergeant ordered. "Psych hold. 72 hours. For her own safety."

I screamed until my throat bled, but no one listened. They dragged me out like a criminal.

I spent five days in a white room until Colton finally came to sign my discharge papers. He brought me back to the mansion I had paid for. He tucked me into bed. He told me to rest.

Until I overheard the worst.

"God, that was close. If she had actually filed for divorce before the gala, we’d be screwed,” Elaine said.

"She won't," Colton said. “I have the power of attorney papers ready. We just need to trigger her one more time."

"The birthday plan?"

"Exactly," Colton said. "Friday is her thirtieth. We throw the party. I’ve hired the actor to approach her, claim they’ve been having an affair. I’ve planted the drugs in her purse. When she starts screaming—and she will—we’ll have the witnesses we need. The board will vote to remove her as CEO due to mental instability."

My breath hitched.

"And the company?" Elaine asked.

"Mine," Colton replied smoothly. "She built it, sure. She wrote the code in college while I fetched her coffee. But she signed the prenup. If she’s declared incompetent, control of her assets transfers to her spouse. I get the company. I get the money. And I get to commit her to a long-term facility."

"You’re brilliant, baby," Elaine cooed.

"I never loved her," Colton said, his voice dripping with disdain. "She was a useful nerd. A stepping stone. But God, she’s exhausted."

I sat on the stairs, the cold wood pressing into my legs.

My entire life—the late nights coding, the sacrifices, the love I had poured into him for ten years—it was all a lie. He had been planning this. He was going to steal my life’s work and lock me away in a padded cell to rot.

I didn't cry. The tears were gone. In their place was a cold, hard resolve.

I crept back to bed.

I reached under the loose floorboard beneath the nightstand—my old hiding spot for emergency cash and a burner phone I used for two-factor authentication on secure servers. Colton didn't know it existed.

I pulled out the phone. My hands were steady.

I dialed a number I hadn't called in seven years.

"Hello?" The voice was sharp, imperious.

"Auntie," I said.

Silence stretched on the line. My aunt, the matriarch of the Blackwell family, the woman who had disowned me when I married Colton. She had called him a snake the day she met him.

"Samantha," she said, her tone unreadable. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Finally tired of playing house with the pauper?"

"You were right," I said. "About everything. He’s... he’s trying to destroy me, Auntie. He’s trying to steal my company and have me committed."

"What do you want?"

"I’ll marry the guy you want me to. I’ll sign whatever contract you have. Just get me the best lawyer in the city and help me destroy my husband."

I marched into the lobby of Vance Tech. I reached the executive suite, but the double doors were blocked.

Elaine stood there. She was wearing a dress I had bought her months ago, back when she called me crying because she couldn't make rent. I had created the position of "Executive Assistant" just to give her a salary. Now, she was guarding my office like a sentry.

"You can't go in, Sam," she said.

"Move, Elaine," I said, my voice cold. "I have a meeting with Ms. Jones and the investors in ten minutes."

"Colton said you’re on medical leave," she replied, not budging. "He’s handling the meeting. You need to go home and rest. You’re not... well."

"I am the majority shareholder and the founder of this company," I stepped closer. "Get out of my way, or you’re fired."

"You can't fire me," she smirked, dropping the act for a split second. "Colton signs the checks now."

I didn't have time for this. I stepped around her, reaching for the handle.

Elaine threw herself to the side.

It was a pathetic performance. I barely brushed her arm, but she let out a high-pitched shriek and collapsed onto the carpet, clutching her ankle.

"Ow! Samantha, stop! Please!" she wailed.

The boardroom door flew open. Colton rushed out, followed by Ms. Jones and two other board members.

"Elaine?" Colton dropped to his knees beside her, playing the hero. "What happened?"

"She pushed me," Elaine sobbed, looking up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. "I told her she couldn't disrupt the meeting, and she just... she shoved me down."

"I did not," I said, staring at them in disbelief. "She threw herself on the floor."

Colton stood up, his face contorted in practiced anger. "Samantha, look at yourself! You’re attacking my staff? You’re attacking your best friend?"

"She’s not my friend," I snapped. I looked at the investors. "Ms. Jones, I apologize for the scene. My husband is attempting a hostile takeover by questioning my competency. I am ready to lead this meeting."

Ms. Jones looked uncomfortable. She glanced from Elaine, who was whimpering on the floor, to me. "Samantha... we heard about the incident at the police station. And the hospital stay."

"It was a misunderstanding," I said firmly. "I am perfectly sane."

"She’s not," Colton interrupted, his voice grave. "She’s having another episode. Look at her eyes. She’s manic." He turned to the board members. "I’m so sorry. I’ll handle everything. Please, let’s continue inside. I need to get my wife some help."

"Security!" Colton barked.

Two guards I had known for years hesitated by the elevator.

"Ms. Jones," Colton said smoothly, "given Samantha’s current... condition... the bylaws state that decision-making power reverts to the spouse until she is deemed fit. I am acting as interim CEO."

"I see," Ms. Jones said, stepping back. She looked at me with pity. "Samantha, perhaps it’s best you go home. We can’t have this volatility during the merger."

I looked at the faces around me. They didn't see a CEO; they saw a liability. If I screamed, I proved Colton right. If I fought, I proved him right.

I unclenched my fists.

"Fine," I said, my voice icy. "Have your meeting, Colton. But this isn't over."

I turned on my heel and walked away, ignoring Elaine’s victorious smirk as Colton helped her limp into my office.

I spent the afternoon in the empty silence of the mansion, packing boxes. The front door opened at six.

"Samantha?" Colton’s voice echoed from the foyer.

I walked to the landing. Colton was there, supporting Elaine. She was leaning heavily on him, her ankle wrapped in an ace bandage that looked brand new.

"What is she doing here?" I asked.

"She’s staying," Colton said, helping Elaine to the living room couch. "She can't walk up the stairs to her apartment with that sprain you gave her. Plus, I need someone here to watch you while I’m at work."

"Watch me?" I laughed, a harsh sound. "I’m not a child, and I’m not a prisoner."

"You’re unstable," Colton said, taking off his jacket. "Elaine volunteered to help. She’s going to cook and make sure you take your meds."

"I’m not taking any meds, and I don't want her in my house."

"It’s our house," Colton corrected. "And why are you being such a pain in the ass? She’s your best friend, Sam. You guys have been inseparable since kindergarten."

He looked at me with that gaslighting innocence, as if the last week hadn't happened. As if he hadn't pinned me to the bed. As if I hadn't seen the photos.

A memory flashed—Elaine and I in our dorm room, eating cheap noodles. Elaine holding my hair back while I puked from morning sickness during the first pregnancy. Elaine hugging me when I lost the baby.

“I’ll always be here, Sam. Sisters before misters, right?”

The betrayal twisted in my gut like a knife.

"We aren't friends," I said, walking down the stairs slowly.

"Oh, stop it," Elaine said from the couch, propping her 'injured' foot up. "I know you're stressed, Sammy, but you don't have to be cruel. I forgive you for the push."

"You forgive me?" I stopped in front of her.

"Yes," she smiled sweetly. "I know you didn't mean it."

"I stopped being your best friend the moment you spread your legs for my husband," I said.

The room went dead silent.

Colton froze halfway to the liquor cabinet. Elaine’s smile faltered.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Elaine stammered, looking at Colton for help. "Colton, she’s doing it again. She’s hallucinating."

"I saw the texts, Elaine," I said, my voice rising. "I saw the photos. 'Frigid bitch,' wasn't it? That’s what you called me?"

"You're crazy!" Elaine cried out, shrinking back into the cushions. "I never did that! You're making things up because you're sick!"

"Enough, Samantha!" Colton shouted, slamming his hand on the bar. "Stop attacking her! You’re hysterical!"

"I am not hysterical!" I yelled. "I am the woman who paid your rent, Elaine! I am the woman who gave you a job when no one else would! And you repay me by sleeping with him?"

"She’s dangerous, Colton!" Elaine shrieked, fake tears streaming down her face. "She’s going to hurt me again!"

Something inside me snapped. “Hurt you? Fine!”

My palm connected with Elaine’s cheek with a force that echoed through the high ceilings.

The lock clicked, sealing me in the guest bedroom.

My cheek still stung where Colton had backhanded me. It was a reflex, he claimed—a way to "snap me out of my hysteria" after I slapped Elaine. But the bruise blooming on my skin told a different story.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door. My phone was gone. My laptop was gone. I was a prisoner in my own home, guarded by the man I had married and the woman I had called sister.

Hours passed. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, menacing shadows across the room. My stomach growled, a traitorous reminder that I hadn't eaten since yesterday.

Finally, the lock turned.

Elaine walked in, carrying a tray. She had an ice pack pressed to her cheek, but her eyes were bright, almost triumphant.

"Dinner," she said, setting the tray on the nightstand. It was soup—chicken noodle, my favorite comfort food. Or it used to be.

"I'm not hungry," I said, turning away.

"Oh, come on, Sam," she sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed as if nothing had happened. "Don't be like this. You need to eat. You're looking... gaunt."

"Get out."

"Look," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I know you're upset. But maybe we can work this out? Truce?"

I looked at her. Really looked at her. The woman who had been my maid of honor. The woman who had held my hand while I cried over negative pregnancy tests.

"Truce?" I repeated, incredulous. "You're sleeping with my husband."

"So?" she shrugged, picking at a loose thread on the quilt. "We've shared everything since kindergarten, haven't we? Clothes, makeup, secrets... why not him? We could be a family, Sam. Just the three of us. Like old times."

My stomach churned. The sheer audacity, the casual cruelty of her suggestion made me want to scream. But then I remembered the lawyer's advice. Document. Wait. Survive.

Fighting her now would only get me locked up tighter. Or worse.

I forced myself to take a breath. I forced the bile down.

"You really think that would work?" I asked, my voice trembling but controlled.

"Why not?" Elaine smiled, a predatory glint in her eyes. "Colton loves us both. In different ways, of course. He needs my... energy. But he respects your brain. We balance him out."

I wanted to vomit. But I nodded.

"Okay," I whispered. "Okay. Maybe... maybe you're right. I'm just tired of fighting."

Elaine clapped her hands together, delighted. "I knew you'd see reason! I'll go tell Colton. He'll be so relieved."

She bounced out of the room, leaving the door unlocked.

Ten minutes later, Colton appeared. He looked wary, searching my face for signs of another outburst. When he saw my calm demeanor, his shoulders relaxed.

"Elaine says you're ready to apologize," he said.

"I am," I lied. "I'm sorry, Colton. I... I don't know what came over me. The stress... I just snapped."

"I know, baby," he said, walking over to hug me. I stiffened but didn't pull away. "It's okay. We're going to fix this. We're going to be a family."

He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket.

"I got you something," he said, opening it. Inside was a diamond necklace. It sparkled under the room's dim light. "To show you how much I love you. A fresh start."

"It's beautiful," I said, letting him fasten it around my neck.

"And I got one for Elaine too," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Since she's been helping out so much."

We went downstairs for dinner. Elaine was already seated, wearing a matching necklace. But as the light caught the stones, I noticed something. Mine had a dull, glassy sheen. Hers refracted the light with the sharp, brilliant fire of real diamonds.

He had given his mistress the real gems and his wife the fake.

I sat down, my hands clenched in my lap.

"To us," Colton toasted, raising his wine glass. "To new beginnings."

"To us," Elaine echoed, clinking her glass against his.

I raised my glass but didn't drink. I picked up my spoon and took a sip of the soup.

It tasted metallic. Bitter.

I took another spoonful, trying to be polite, trying to play the part. But my stomach rebelled instantly. A wave of nausea hit me so hard I doubled over.

"Sam?" Colton asked, his voice distant.

"I... I don't feel well," I gasped, clutching my stomach.

Pain, sharp and searing, ripped through my abdomen. I tried to stand, but my legs gave out. I collapsed onto the floor, retching.

"Oh my god," Elaine said, but she didn't move to help. She just watched, sipping her wine.

"Call an ambulance!" I screamed, the room spinning. Darkness encroached on the edges of my vision.

Colton hesitated. For a second, I saw him weigh the options. Let me die here, or save me and deal with the mess.

I woke up to the beep of machines. The smell of antiseptic was overwhelming.

My eyes felt heavy, glued shut. I could hear voices nearby.

"Is she dead?" Elaine's voice. Bored. Impatient.

"Stabilized," a man's voice replied. A doctor. "It was a severe reaction. Likely food poisoning or an interaction with her medication."

"Ugh," Elaine groaned. "Bitch is hard to kill."

"Careful," Colton hissed. "Keep your voice down."

"What now?" Elaine asked. "She's going to wake up and blame the soup."

"We'll say it was the stress," Colton said smoothly. "Her body is shutting down. It fits the narrative."

"And the... other thing?" Elaine asked.

There was a pause. A heavy, suffocating silence.

"She doesn't know," the doctor said quietly. "She was eight weeks along."

My heart stopped.

"Was?" Colton asked.

"She lost the baby," the doctor confirmed. "The trauma to her abdomen... the toxicity... her body couldn't hold on."

A baby.

I hadn't known. After three miscarriages, after years of trying, after giving up hope... I had been pregnant. And they had killed it.

Tears leaked from my closed eyes, hot and silent. I didn't move. I didn't scream. I lay there, listening to the monsters discuss my tragedy like a logistics problem.

"Well," Elaine said, her voice devoid of any emotion. "At least that's one problem solved. No heir to complicate the divorce."

"True," Colton agreed. "It's for the best. Let’s just now prepare to finally ruin the bitch at her own birthday party.”

No, I won’t let it happen, because I’ll be sure to be gone before that day.