For four years, I’ve been a wife, a fool, and nothing more than his second choice.

The photo of a sonogram trembled in my hand. I was supposed to be happy—if only the baby was mine. But the harsh truth—it was Lavinia's—my stepsister and my husband's lover. I stared at it until the edges blurred, until bile threatened to rise in my throat.

He was here, in the room, watching me. Silent. Almost smug. The air between us carried everything I had tried not to see—her perfume on his shirts, his sudden late nights, the way his eyes dimmed whenever they landed on me.

I finally spoke, though my voice sounded foreign, raw.

“How long?”

Trevor didn’t flinch. His expression was flat, almost bored. “Does it matter?”

A crack opened in my chest, and still I pressed on. “Of all people, why did it have to be my stepsister?”

His smirk confirmed what I already knew. He didn’t bother denying. He didn’t even try to soften the blow. Instead, his gaze slid over me, cold and assessing.

“You’ve let yourself go,” he said, tone detached, like he was listing facts. “She’s… different. She makes me feel alive.”

The words cut deeper than if he’d shouted them. Alive. As though with me, he’d been dead.

I held his stare, refusing to let him see me unravel. Inside, my heart was clawing at my ribs, screaming to shatter, but I swallowed the sound. He would not have the satisfaction.

Once, I would have begged him to choose me. Tonight, I chose myself.

I turned, walked to the drawer, and pulled out the envelope I’d been hiding for weeks. My hand didn’t shake as I laid it on the bed.

Trevor’s brow arched. “What’s this supposed to be?”

“Your freedom,” I said, my voice steady though my chest was burning in rage. “Don’t choke on it.”

I left before he could speak again, slamming the door behind me. The echo rang through the hall like the final toll of a bell. For the first time in four years, the air filling my lungs didn’t taste like defeat. I don't deserve this kind of cruelty. I was done and so was my feelings for him.

The slam of the bedroom door still echoed in my ears as I moved down the hallway. Each step felt heavier, though my chest was strangely lighter—as if setting down the divorce papers had carved a space inside me for air again.

I should have gone straight to the car. Straight out of the house that had become a mausoleum for my marriage. The walls no longer carried warmth, only shadows of what we used to be. But of course, fate had other plans. Lavinia was waiting for me. Not to comfort but to insult me in my own house. She leaned against the banister at the top of the stairs, her silk robe clinging to her body in that calculated way of hers. By the looks of it, she looked entertained.

“At last, the truth had set us free,” she said softly, almost like a condolence. “I was actually planning to tell you myself but look where the situation led us.” The sound of her voice ignited something sharp in my chest. She wasn’t even pretending to be discreet anymore.

“I hope you enjoy my leftovers, stepsis,” I snapped, glaring at her.

“Don’t look at me like that, Erin.” Her voice was honey over venom. “This is all your fault. Trevor deserves someone who excites him. You were never enough. Just accept the fact that you’re a loser.”

The words should have split me open. Maybe last week they would have. Tonight, they only forged steel in my spine. I turned to her, my voice quiet but lethal. “Then congratulations, Lavinia. I hope he'll make you and your baby happy.”

Her smirk flickered, faltered for just a beat. That was enough for me to take. I descended the stairs, my heels striking the wood like a war drum, announcing my exit. The keys in my hand felt cold, solid, real—my ticket out.

By the time I slid into the driver’s seat, the weight of betrayal and humiliation pressed down like a mountain. I gripped the wheel until my knuckles blanched, fighting the sob that burned at the back of my throat. But I didn’t let it out. Not yet. Not while they were in that house, clinging to each other like victors on stolen ground.

I started the engine. I was half-expecting Trevor would follow but he didn't. Fine. He could rot in the silence I left behind. The city blurred past, streetlights flashing like gold streaks on the windshield. For a brief, fragile moment, I thought I might breathe again.

Until I noticed the headlights in my rearview mirror. Too close. Panic crept into my nerves, scratching at the edges of my calmness. I gripped the wheel tighter as I took a sharp right into an empty side street, pulling over beneath a flickering lamp post. The following car rolled up behind me, its engine low, steady.

My breath caught into my throat. Then the door opened. And out stepped a familiar man I hadn’t seen in years. Henry—the guy I ghosted back in the day.

He approached the driver’s side, raising a hand in cautious greeting. “Erin. Don’t panic. It’s me.”

I blinked, stunned, my heart stumbling over itself. “Henry?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Henry Silva.” His voice was calm, reassuring, the same tone he used to have when pulling me back from the edge of my storms. “I figured you’d need someone on your side tonight.”

My lips parted, but no words came. Of all the ghosts from my past, I hadn’t expected this one. I thought I had left him behind years ago, buried with the choices I never made. But here he was—my defender, the man who once knew me before I lost myself. And now, fate had delivered him back into my life on the same night I finally walked away from my good-for-nothing husband.

I needed air.

I needed clarity.

And more than anything, I needed a plan.

That’s how I ended up sitting across from Henry Silva in the quiet corner of a downtown restaurant. The kind of place where no one looked too closely at who you were or why you were there.

Henry hadn’t changed much. Sharp suit, sharper eyes, and that steady calm he always carried, the kind that made people trust him even when they shouldn’t. Once, years ago, I had trusted him with my heart. Now, I was trusting him with my freedom.

“I didn’t mean to scare you earlier,” Henry said, his fingers wrapped around the zarf of his coffee cup. He barely touched it yet.

“You didn’t scare me,” I murmured, though my hands still trembled faintly around the rim of my cup. “I just… wasn’t expecting you.”

He nodded, eyes catching mine. “I know. I wouldn’t expect that either. But when I saw your name on the case file… I couldn’t stay detached. I wanted to handle it myself.”

Silence fell between us, but it wasn’t heavy. It was the kind of silence that once defined us—when a glance said more than hours of conversation ever could. For a fleeting moment, I felt like the younger version of myself, the girl who used to believe love could be enough.

I wrapped my hands around the glass of water in front of me, trying to stop them from trembling. “He didn’t even deny it, Henry. He looked me in the eye and basically said I was… boring. That Lavinia makes him feel alive.”

“You did the right thing, Erin,” he said, his voice low but firm, scanning the documents I’d brought along. “Filing now protects you. The longer you wait, the more leverage Trevor gets.”

Henry’s jaw tightened. For a second, the polished lawyer facade slipped, and I caught a flash of the man I used to know—the one who hated seeing me hurt.

My throat tightened, tears pressing against the corners of my eyes. I swallowed them back, the way I always did.

“Henry…” My voice cracked before I could stop it.

“You’re not boring,” he said, more sharply than I expected. His gaze softened a beat later. “He’s trying to make you doubt yourself so you’ll back down. But you’re stronger than that.”

Stronger. The word settled in me like an anchor. I wanted to believe it. We spent the next half hour going over paperwork, strategies, and the ugly logistics of unraveling a marriage.

He was all business, but every so often, his eyes lingered a little too long, his tone softened a little too much. And then the bell over the café door jingled, and I felt the air shift before I even looked up.

Trevor.

He stood at the entrance, his expression unreadable as his gaze landed on us—on me, sitting across from Henry.The moment stretched, thick with unsaid words.

My heart raced. I hadn’t wanted him to follow me, hadn’t even cared if he noticed I was gone. But now, here he was, and the sight of Henry across from me was a truth I couldn’t hide.

And for the first time tonight, it wasn’t betrayal or humiliation that burned in Trevor’s eyes. It was jealousy.

He might have lost me tonight—but he wasn’t about to let me go without treating his wounded ego.