LOGINIn the second year of our marriage, which Brett Mason had secured through relentless means, he brought home his latest conquest—a stunning blonde. As the door swung shut, he ran his fingers through her silky hair, flashing me a smug, triumphant grin. "Wanna join us? You might learn a thing or two about not being such a dead fish." I could still recall how he once adored my hair, claiming that just stroking it would melt away his deepest worries. It turned out any woman could serve that purpose. In that instant, a profound sense of release washed over me. I retrieved the divorce agreement I'd stashed away in a drawer and handed it to him. "Sign it, and I'll make room for her." My days were numbered, and I had no intention of wasting what little time remained entangled in his resentment.
View MoreStanley looked up, his eyes brimming with sorrow.Someone whispered, "My condolences. She is gone."Brett moved to the bed, refusing to believe it.Days apart, Erika'd withered further.He looked closely and noticed traces of blood on Erika's lips. Her furrowed brow suggested the pain she had endured."No, Erika is not dead," he mumbled, touching Erika's hair. "She is just in pain. Please, give us the room."Stanley hesitated, eyeing his dishevelment, then exited with the staff.Once the door shut, Brett took out the beads, the surface etched with dense scriptures.He had recited them repeatedly these past few days, believing they'd heal Erika.He tried to lift her wrist, but the crimson blood on his hand stopped him.Frowning, he wiped it clean with his sleeve before gently slipping the beads on her wrist.Hopeful, he watched Erika's face, but nothing happened.Not even her eyelashes fluttered.A sharp pain pierced his heart, but he suppressed it, convinced he needed to w
In the show, I played a bandit, my face grotesquely painted.My roommates jested that Brett would abandon me upon sight.People tended to hide their flaws from their loved ones. I did the same, dreading his judgment of my absurdity.But when the show was staged, he was there.Someone beside him recognized me and laughed. I cringed, wishing the ground could open and swallow me.Post-show, I fled in tears. He pursued, enveloping me.Pulling away, I fretted over his soiled jacket. "My bad."Undeterred, he used his sleeve to dry my face. "No version of you repels me. You're flawless, always."...Winter deepened.We selected a warmer day to formalize the divorce, but Brett persisted in hospital visits.I discouraged them, my state deteriorating with migraines, fevers, hemorrhages, and blackouts.He kept vigil through sleepless nights, compulsively verifying my vitality and frantically consulting global experts.Efforts proved vain. Prognoses were uniform in their bleakness.O
Stanley's questions lacerated Brett, unearthing agonizing truths.Stanley added, "I leveraged your name to bring her back. She'd covertly scour news of you, hoping to reunite with you. I thought recovery was near until that charity event."Brett's eyes brimmed scarlet as he recalled the gala where our paths crossed again, leading to the forced marriage and isolation from Stanley.He searched hard in his memories for any clues until some fragments surged from the cracks and gripped his throat.There were moments I had tried to tell him, but he interrupted me every time.It was his ridiculous pride that kept him from listening. It was his fear of hearing Stanley's name that drove him to push me away."Your past repulses me. Spare me the details," he'd sneered, relishing my pain."It's evident that your marriage was vengeance," Stanley choked. "She thought she deserved it, so she ensured it silently. You despised her, yet she amplified that contempt exponentially."Brett's chest a
A reporter pressed, "Mr. Mason, did you know your wife was assaulted before her imprisonment abroad?"Brett's head snapped up, our eyes locking in shared horror.His body swayed, and my dignity crumbled to dust."You concealed your trauma and homicide. Does that constitute marital fraud?""Your prison-acquired illness is karma, perhaps?""Aware that Ms. Green carries his child?"...The barrage of questions impaled me, robbing me of air.Vertigo assailed me. I collapsed, blood surging from my lips."Erika! No!" Brett roared, charging toward me, but the mob repelled him.They advanced, their lenses feasting on my vulnerability."Shoot it! Cover gold!""Close-up on the blood and face!"Echoes of that fateful night resurfaced. The assailant had photographed me like this for leverage.Perhaps I should have turned the knife on myself. Self-inflicted mercy might have spared this hell....The antiseptic tang assaulted my nostrils.I stirred, realizing I had ended up in the h






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