Back to Break my Dearests のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

I stared at the post, my finger hovering over the screen. In my previous life, I spat out a slur and shared the post, setting the internet ablaze. With the online abuse getting to her, Ivy Bell fled to the rooftop. I was there when she stepped off the ledge. My husband, Taylor Rogue, was present as well. He cradled Ivy in her pool of blood and looked up at me. His eyes narrowed dangerously. Three months later, he came back to me, tender and attentive as before. The moment I lowered my defenses, Taylor signed me into a psychiatric ward. “You took the love of my life away. You can rot in hell for all I care!” I spent the next three years in a cage. Between forced medication and electroshock therapies, I eventually escaped by jumping off the roof. I opened my eyes, and I was back. Taking a deep breath, I tapped into the comments. Hot comment #1: “Wake up, girl! You’re biting the hand that feeds you!” Hot comment #2: “I can tell that the guy works in academia

“You deserve only the best in the world, Abby.” I smiled without a word. Taylor’s breath beside me in bed settled into a long, even rhythm in the stillness of the night.I opened my eyes and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. … The phone’s screen illuminated my face in the dark.I punched my birth date, but it wasn’t the right passcode. My heart sank. I entered the date of our anniversary. Yet, I was nowhere close to unlocking his phone. In the end, I tried Ivy’s birthday on a grim hunch. The home screen came into view. A whole new world opened up before my very eyes. The album was filled with hundreds of close-up photos of them, embracing, kissing, and taking selfies in hotel mirrors. The timestamps revealed that the first photo was taken over a year ago. There were hotel confirmations and fine-dining bills, paid for using the joint bank account I had given him access to. Nothing hit harder than the photo of that prenatal check report.Ivy’s name was l

Staring at Ivy and Taylor’s paralyzed faces, I added in a whisper, “Playtime’s up.” …By 3.00 AM, the cut audio clip topped the local charts. The hashtag #ProfessorCaughtWithStudent blew up. Under #InjuredWife was a photo of me, my expression calm despite the blood on my forehead. Soon enough, screenshots from surveillance, transcripts of recordings, and photo collages of luxury goods on Ivy’s social media made their rounds on the internet. The online community was quick at digging up history. By dawn, Ivy’s attendance records and academic fails were leaked online. “What kind of struggling student affords three luxury handbags in one semester?” “She takes the wife’s money to flirt with the husband. Ew.” A call from the school’s disciplinary committee came at seven in the morning. Taylor answered the phone, his voice trembling. “Yes… Of course, you have my full cooperation with the investigation.” After the call, he lunged at me with bloodshot eyes. “Happy now?”

Taylor’s father reviewed the evidence with trembling hands before letting out a sigh. “We… have no right to defend him.” On their way out, Taylor’s mother looked back at the door. “We owe you an apology, Abby.” I closed the door and rested my back against the wood. Tears didn’t escape my eyes. My mind flew back to my previous life. Taylor’s parents visited me at the hospital when I lost the baby. At the time, they said those exact words. What happened next? Then, they looked the other way when Taylor committed me to a mental ward. I gave in once, and that was all I could allow. That night, the school investigation team called to schedule a meeting with me for tomorrow. Taylor was packing his bags in the bedroom. I stood at the door. “Are you moving out?” He didn’t bother to meet my gaze. “Don’t you want a divorce? I’m moving into the faculty housing.” “To Ivy’s?” He froze. I grinned. “Oh, before I forget, her apartment is paid for with the research funds you

The lead officer glanced at the raw scar on my forehead, then the mess across the floor. “Domestic abuse is a crime too, you know,” he said. I handed the officer a USB drive. “This contains a year’s worth of recordings and chat logs documenting his gaslighting and threats. His moods have been highly volatile lately. I believe he’s a danger to himself and society.”Taylor’s eyes widened. “You have been planning this?” Paying him no heed, I told the cops, “I’m filing for a restraining order. I don’t want him near me or my residence. I’d suggest putting him through a psychiatric evaluation. His behavior is out of the norm.” With Taylor being in a manic, raving state, the lead officer nodded. “We’ll include that in the report.” Three days later, the summons for the psychiatric review arrived. Taylor fought the request tooth and nail, causing quite the scene at the facility. In the end, he was taken away by force. The doctor’s preliminary diagnosis revealed that Taylor exhi