Half a Life of Love, Half a Life of Regret

When my father died, he left me with two prospective husbands. I was supposed to marry one of them, Nolan Mercer. But on our wedding day, he ran off with a housekeeper's daughter. So his younger brother, James Mercer, married me instead. On our wedding night, I slipped out onto the balcony and cried because I missed my father. James kicked the door open, mockery in his eyes and a sneer on his lips. "Are you really that heartbroken just because you had to marry me instead of Nolan?" For the next five years, he brought a different woman home every week. I swallowed the pain and did everything I could to be a good wife. But this time was different. Four months had passed, and the woman by his side was still the same one. My heart sank. She slipped her arm through his and said, "James, looks like the lady of the house is upset." James looked at me, his face unreadable, and let out a mocking laugh. "Lady of the house? She doesn't even want to be. She'd rather be the lady of the house across the street." That night, a gas leak sparked a fire in our home. James scooped the woman into his arms and rushed outside. I'd inhaled so much gas that my limbs had gone weak. I collapsed to the floor and watched him leave without a second thought. Something inside me finally snapped. I'd had enough of this miserable five-year marriage. This time, I was going to end it myself.