Chapter 1
On the day of our fifth wedding anniversary party, Cynthia Palmer, my CEO wife, had to work overtime to meet with investors.
I was driving my new luxury car, planning to get to the venue early to set things up, when her electronic toll pass auto-charged her account as I exited the highway.
The next second, the barrier slammed shut, and the traffic cops pulled me over and detained me, accusing me of stealing a luxury car.
For seven hours, I was stuck at the police station, calling Cynthia over and over for help, but she never picked up.
It wasn't until late at night that I finally got a call from her assistant, Mike Dunlap.
He said, "Mr. Freeman, Ms. Palmer gave me that car as my exclusive ride. It's bad enough you took it without asking, and you even swiped three dollars for the toll?
"Ms. Palmer says you should spend some time in the police station to learn your lesson. From now on, you need my okay before you touch the car."
Right after I hung up, my phone buzzed with a notification from Mike's social media.
It was a photo of the limited-edition Maybach that had been taken from me, with a long scratch running down the side.
The caption read: [Having a CEO boss lady who spoils me is the best. I got my license and already got a 300-thousand-dollar luxury car to practice with. Doesn't matter if I scratch it.]
I let out a cold laugh and commented: [You're really milking the most out of it.]
Right away, Cynthia called, "Delete that snarky comment right now. It's not a big deal if our anniversary party gets pushed back a couple of days."
Without a second thought, I hung up on her.
I was done with this dead marriage.
*****
Just as I hung up, Cynthia's video call popped up. Her face was full of anger.
"Shawn, are you done making a scene?" she snapped.
Next to her in the passenger seat was Mike. He was wearing the custom shirt I'd picked out for the party, looking all innocent.
He said, "Shawn, I'm sorry I scratched your car. Ms. Palmer gave me the car, but I should've turned it down. I don't deserve to drive something that fancy.
"Don't be mad at Cynthia. If you want, I'll sell everything I have to pay you back."
Mike made a show of holding his wrist up to the camera, flaunting the Patek Philippe couple's watch that was meant for me, dangling loose on his arm.
Cynthia frowned and said, "Shawn, Mike just got his license. I only let him practice a bit. Apologize to Mike and delete that comment."
Seeing her look so entitled on the screen, I couldn't help but laugh.
"I bought that car with my own money, and I just got it. Who said you could give it away to someone else?" I shot back.
Cynthia's face stiffened, and she let out a sigh. "I know you feel wronged, but Mike is a rising star the company is focusing on.
"Please stop being difficult. I'll have my assistant order you a brand-new car tomorrow, alright?"
"No need," I said, hanging up without hesitation and blocking her number.
I walked into the living room, ripped the five-year anniversary photo off the wall, and tossed it straight into the trash.
Then I started packing my things, ready to leave.
Halfway through zipping up my suitcase, I heard the sound of the keypad lock on the front door unlocking.
It was eleven at night when Cynthia pushed the door open and stormed in, slamming a fancy box down on the coffee table.
"Shawn, you've got some nerve, hanging up on me?" she snapped.
I ignored her and kept fiddling with the suitcase lock.
Cynthia grabbed my hand, her face flushed with anger. "I waited in line for two hours to get you these peanut butter cookies from that old bakery on Southridge. Don't you love their pastries?"
She looked down at me like she was throwing me a bone to a beggar.
"Eat these pastries and let's just forget about today," she said.
I glanced at the coffee table, following her gaze.
The box was half-open, with peanut crumbs scattered all over the top.
I had a severe peanut allergy, and she'd completely forgotten.
A chill ran down my spine.
For six years, I'd told her countless times I couldn't even touch peanuts.
"Why aren't you eating?" Cynthia frowned, her tone getting impatient. "I ditched a meeting with investors just to get these for you, and you're still giving me attitude?"
I opened my mouth. "I'm allergic to peanuts."
Cynthia froze for a moment, then gave a cold, mocking laugh.
She said, "Shawn, are you seriously faking an allergy now just to get your way?
"I waited in line for two hours to buy you these pastries. Stop using your allergy as an excuse to manipulate me."
With that, she grabbed a pastry and stuffed it straight into my mouth. "Eat it. Don't make me lose my temper."
Before I knew it, I'd already swallowed most of it.
A choking sensation hit me all at once, and I couldn't help but collapse to the floor, curling up.
Just then, Cynthia's phone rang.
On the other end, Mike's voice came through, sounding like he was about to cry. "Cynthia, it's thundering outside. I'm all alone in the hotel, and I'm scared."
Cynthia's expression shifted in a heartbeat. She snatched up her car keys and headed for the door, her tone suddenly soft as silk. "Don't worry. I'll be right there."
At the door, she paused. "Shawn, you keep disappointing me more and more."
The door slammed shut behind her, and my throat felt like it was closing up. I couldn't breathe.