Chapter 3

The room instantly fell silent. They all exchanged glances, the atmosphere awkward.

Greg placed his hand heavily on my shoulder, whispering, “Chloe threw it out. She said it was full of bacteria. She was just looking out for your health.”

Looking out for my health? He knew damn well that jar was the last thing my mother left me before she passed. I wasn’t going to eat it, and I wasn’t making Chloe eat it either. Who was she to throw it away without asking?

Yet, of course, he only ever lectured me. He never respected me, let alone cared about the things I held dear.

Tears began to fall from my eyes. Stunned, Greg reached up to touch my face, but I brushed his hand away.

Immediately, Chloe let out a sharp shriek. She threw herself in front of Greg, shielding him with an angry look.

“Trisha, I’m the one who threw out the jar! If you have a problem, take it out on me!”

Big Ben, who wasn’t happy either, muttered under his breath, “It’s just a stupid jar of homemade pickles. Is it really worth making a scene and ruining everyone’s mood?”

Liam didn’t even bother hiding his impatience. “Chloe majored in biology. Doesn’t she know more about food safety? Talk about biting the hand that feeds you.”

Every word they said favored Chloe, painting me as some unreasonable, toxic villain. At the same time, they shot Greg sympathetic looks, as if asking how he ended up marrying someone like me. However, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about any of them. All I cared about was the jar of pickles my mom made for me.

With tears crashing against the floor, I dropped to my knees and reached into the trash bin, trying to salvage what I could.

Greg panicked and grabbed my arm to pull me back up. “What are you doing? You’re pregnant!”

A glint flashed in Chloe’s eyes. She rushed over, kneeling beside me to dig through the trash as well, her voice breaking with sobs.

“It’s my fault. I’ll help you pick it up.”

Her words sounded sincere, but the tips of her fingernails dug into the back of my hand. The sharp pain made me flinch, and I instinctively pushed her away.

Chloe collapsed backward onto the floor, looking up at me miserably, her face in tears. The next second, everyone in the living room rushed forward in front of her and glared at me with hostility.

Greg barked in a deep voice, “Trisha! Have you lost your mind?”

I didn’t say a word. I just quietly gathered what was left of my mother’s gift.

Greg’s face turned incredibly grim. He grabbed me roughly, clearly determined to demand justice for Chloe.

“Trisha, apologize. Now!”

I looked at him calmly, refusing to back down.

This wasn’t the first time Greg had twisted the truth to blame me. In the past, I had been weak. I hadn’t wanted my mom to worry, so I endured it all and always gave in. Yet now, the only family I had left was gone. I had absolutely no reason to endure this anymore.

“Greg, let’s get a divorce.”

The moment the words left my mouth, Greg’s face turned ugly. In our two years of marriage, we had argued and fought, but I had never once brought up divorce.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Chloe spoke up in a fragile, gentle voice. “Trisha, woman to woman, I’d advise you not to play hard to get. You’re so far along in your pregnancy. There’s no way you’d actually get a divorce. What are you going to do, abort the baby?”

Those words instantly stirred up a storm. If there was one thing Greg hated above all else, it was being threatened.

He stared down at me, his voice filled with disappointment. “Trisha, you’ve been spoiled too much. You shall stay home and think about what you’ve done!”

With that, he grabbed Chloe’s hand and stormed out the door. Within seconds, the entire house fell dead silent, leaving me all alone.

After I packed away what was left of the jar, my phone gave a sudden buzz. It was a text reminder from the clinic that the procedure was scheduled in five days. So, I went to the bedroom, gathered my ID and essentials, and quietly waited for that day to arrive.

However, the very next morning, my best friend called me in a frantic rush.

“Trish! Check the news right now!”

I opened the news app, and the top story was a paparazzi photo of Greg. He and Chloe were walking hand-in-hand down a beach. Chloe had a sweet smile on her face, and a fresh tattoo of Greg’s name was visible on her waist. The media also pointed out that the wedding ring Greg had worn for two years was missing from his finger.

Naturally, the tabloids began speculating about the state of our marriage. They even fabricated a lengthy article about the epic, star-crossed romance between Greg and Chloe. With that, their old shippers from high school immediately resurfaced, swarming and attacking my personal social media accounts.