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Chaos erupted at the charity gala when a massive backdrop near the stage suddenly broke loose and came crashing down. My husband didn't even hesitate. He left me behind, diving to shield his new PR manager and wrapping her tightly in his arms. "Tiffany, thank God," he gasped. "It would kill me if you got hurt." As I stood there in a daze, my son rushed over to fuss over Tiffany, not sparing a single glance for me. Clutching my bleeding arm, I stared at the three of them. They looked like the picture of a happy family. That was the moment something inside me finally died. I was done with this husband, and I was done with this son.