Chapter 1

When I found out my husband had been keeping a mistress and using my money to buy her a house, I was still holding the bills, preparing to confront him.

Before I could even speak, the mistress, Marisa Terrell, sent me a message meant to disgust me.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Then I forwarded it straight to her parents.

That night, Marisa's entire household exploded. The police were called twice.

My husband, panicked after hearing the news, dropped to his knees and begged me to stop.

I looked at him and found it almost laughable. "Stop?" I said coldly. "What is it? Are you heartbroken over your little sweetheart?"

*****

My phone buzzed while I was simmering a pot of soup.

It was Camdyn Warner's favorite mushroom soup.

The whole house was filled with that mouthwatering smell as it simmered away on low heat.

After three years of marriage, I thought this was how marriage was meant to be—simple, cozy, with the warmth and comfort of everyday life.

I wiped my hands and picked up my phone.

A picture message from an unknown number popped up on my phone.

I tapped to open it, and a photo appeared.

The background was the bedroom sheets I'd picked out myself.

It was dark gray, pure cotton, with those familiar creases.

In the photo, Camdyn was shirtless, dead asleep.

Some woman I'd never seen before was resting her head on his arm.

She was wearing my silk pajamas, her face turned to the side, smirking right at the camera.

Her smirk was cocky, almost daring me to do something.

Below the photo was a message. [Your husband is in my bed. Doesn't that make you feel pathetic?]

A wave of nausea crashed over me.

I rushed to the bathroom, gripping the toilet, but nothing would come out.

All I could do was dry heave.

My heart hurt so much I could barely breathe.

So all those nights he came home late, it wasn't because of overtime.

Turned out that strange perfume on him wasn't from someone at work.

All that warmth and comfort I thought we had was just me playing the lead in my own one-woman show.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

My face was pale, my eyes red and swollen.

Pathetic, huh?

Honestly? I really was.

My phone buzzed again.

It was the same number.

The mistress texted: [No reply? Did I hit a nerve?]

[Oh, and your pajamas are so comfortable. Thanks for those.]

I straightened up, wiped the tears on my face, and headed back to the kitchen.

Now, the aroma of the soup just made me feel nauseous.

I picked up my phone and opened the photo again.

I zoomed in on the woman's face.

She was young, her makeup flawless, and there was a brazen, almost flirty look in her eyes.

I recognized her.

It was Marisa Terrell.

She was the new intern where Camdyn worked.

Camdyn had brought her up more than once, saying she was smart and had a real spark to her.

I remembered joking that we should invite her over for dinner sometime.

When I thought about it now, the whole thing just felt so ironic.

I scrolled through my contacts until I found the number.

Marisa's Mom—that was what I had her saved as.

I saved it during their last company team-building, when the families all met up.

Marisa's mom was really warm, holding my hand and saying we should visit each other more often.

She even mentioned that Marisa had been spoiled since she was a kid, and asked me to be patient with her.

I stared at the number and gave a bitter smile.

Tears slid down my cheeks, icy cold.

I clicked on Marisa's profile.

Her Instagram cover photo was a big family portrait.

Her dad, her mom, and her brother were all there.

The whole family was beaming, like the picture-perfect happy family.

Underneath, in tiny letters, it said: [The family I love most.]

I saved the photo of them in bed.

Then I started searching through Camdyn's messages.

He had a ton of group chats—work groups, project teams, even a fishing club chat.

Finally, I found one.

The group was called "The Terrell Family."

There were over twenty people in the group.

I clicked into the group and saw Marisa's dad, mom, brother, sister-in-law, uncles, aunts—pretty much her entire family was there.

My finger hovered over the forward button.

In that moment, my emotions boiled over.

The glow from my phone screen lit up my face.

I pressed send.