How Does 'Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke' End?

In seven years of marriage, Dominic had brought up divorce seventeen times. Every single time ended in an ugly scene, because I couldn't stand Serena taking my place. She was the sister of Lucas, his late right-hand man, yet she'd climbed into his bed. I'd openly thrown her out during a Family council and had her name added to the exile list behind his back. Because of me, she was ambushed on the way into exile and lost the use of both legs, confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life. Dominic should have hated me. But he suddenly stopped asking for a divorce. He even let me sit beside him again at Family councils, where everyone respectfully addressed me as Donna. As if everything had gone back to the way it was. Until the day I couldn't help but ask him why he wouldn't divorce me anymore. He finally told me the truth. "I got a phone call from myself, ten years in the future. "He told me that if I went through with the divorce, I'd be destroyed. Because you'd tie her up in a car and burn her alive." He looked at me, nothing but exhaustion in his eyes. "I already owe her a pair of legs. I can't owe her a life too. "As for you... "This is the life we've got. Let's just leave it at that." With that, he wheeled Serena past me without another glance. In that moment, I felt like a clown. A life spent chasing him for answers. Suddenly, I didn't want it anymore.

It's Thanksgiving, and I'm waiting for Zeke Jones to come home after cooking up an extravagant meal. When Zeke returns, he doesn't even glance at the meal I've prepared for him. Instead, he proceeds to pack a bag. "I can't celebrate Thanksgiving with you this year," he says. I take another bite of my turkey and say nothing. At the stroke of midnight, Zeke's first love posts a new photo on her social media page. In the photo, she's lying on Zeke's back with a bright smile on her face. The moon outside the window is bright. "Happy to spend Thanksgiving with good company," her caption reads. Instead of hysterically questioning Zeke about the post, I just tap on the "like" button without reacting in any way. Zeke calls me. His voice sounds panicked as he tries to explain himself. "Please don't misinterpret the post. I will definitely spend Thanksgiving with you next year…" I freeze for a few moments, letting out a small laugh. I don't offer him a reply. Next time, he says? Oh, Zeke, I'm afraid there won't be a next time.

After five years in a marriage without intimacy, I finally called my wife, Suzanna Jones, the youngest commander in the military, and asked her to spend the night with me. Five hundred and twenty times. That was how many times we had been interrupted over the years. Every time we came close to being together, an urgent call from her widowed brother‑in‑law, Eric Gibson, pulled her away before anything could happen. Then, on our wedding anniversary, Suzanna promised she would finally give me the perfect wedding night we never had. I held her by the waist and was about to cross the final line between us when Eric’s ringtone shattered the moment. “Suzanna… I was injured in an explosion down there. What if I am crippled for life…?” Panic filled her face. She pushed me aside and rushed for the door. I grabbed her wrist and tried to stop her. “Send him to the military hospital first.” She turned on me with anger and slapped me across the face. “Shane! Eric is seriously hurt! How can you be this heartless?” She pulled on her dress and ran out. When I caught up with her, the sight in front of me stopped me cold. The woman who once promised to give me her first night was wrapped around Eric in a position far more intimate than anything she had ever shared with me. When I asked for an explanation, she looked calm and unbothered. “Eric is in critical condition. Was I supposed to stand there and do nothing? It is not that important. If it bothers you that much, I can fix it later.” Something inside me went numb. For five years, I had been the only one trying to hold our marriage together. At that moment, I realized I was exhausted from fighting for something that had ended long ago.

When my wife, Whitney Novak, abandoned me on the mountaintop once again to rush off and take care of my younger brother, Aaron Novak, I was kidnapped on my way home. For three days and three nights, I endured unimaginable torture. The one call I managed to make for help was coldly hung up on. The day I finally dragged myself home, battered and covered in wounds, my family was celebrating Aaron's latest achievement. Whitney frowned in irritation. "Today's supposed to be a celebration. Who are you trying to disgust by showing up looking like that? Are you trying to make everyone think we've been abusing you?" My family looked at me with nothing but contempt. "You're worthless. You'll never measure up to Aaron. It should've been you who died instead." Later, they got exactly what they wanted. I really was dying. But if I was nothing more than a worthless failure, why were they crying?

Jo and Jane are a couple who are quite famous among the artist club. He fell in love for the first time to a girl from ordinary circles who in fact was one of the talents who pursued a career in his company. Their love story that is so fragile on two different worlds requires them to separate each other. But it was Jane who suffered alone a lot, obviously Jo's family finally got rid of Jane in secret, Jane's whereabouts disappeared, whether she was alive or dead, Jo didn't know where she was. It made Jo live in deep misery and longing. He has drastically changed into a cruel cold man over the past 4 years. Until the 5th year destiny said otherwise, Jo overhears a woman's voice talking to Steven, his best friend since childhood. That is a familiar voice, exactly the same as the voice of someone he may have longed for. It suddenly made Jo shocked and for a moment was silent at the outer door of the room. Is that Jane? Or only the same voice of other person? Is Jane still alive? If true, why has Jane's whereabouts not been known for the last 5 years? Why didn't she ask for help or call Jo? What really happened?

I had just climbed into the armored SUV leaving the Moretti estate when the gatekeeper hurried after me with a black encrypted phone in his hand. "Mrs. Westmore, Don Moretti asked me to give you this." I took it. One unread message glowed on the screen. [Selena only had a scare. I'll come home tomorrow. Don't overthink it.] I stared at it for two seconds, popped out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and tossed it into the rain outside the window. The next day, I had just reached the abandoned shipyard in North Harbor when encrypted messages started hitting my backup phone one after another. [Vivian, where are you?] [Why aren't you home? Where the hell did you go this late?] [Answer me. Don't make me send men all over the city looking for you.] The last one was exactly his style: soft on the surface, arrogant underneath. [Your family survives under my protection. Don't test my patience.] I didn't answer. After countless messages sank without a reply, my husband finally drove to the old Westmore grounds at North Harbor. He knew that if anything was left of my family, I would be there. But when Damon pushed through the broken iron gate, he found no guards, no household staff, and no Westmore men waiting for orders. The old house stood hollow in the rain. Its windows were blown out, the front steps were black with soot, and the air still carried the bitter smell of smoke and gunpowder. Damon grabbed a passing harbor guard by the sleeve. "Where are the Westmores?" The guard looked at him as if he should already know. "Gone. The family was hit two nights ago. Whoever came for them knew exactly when Moretti protection would be pulled from the harbor." "Miss Westmore came back before dawn," the guard added. "She took the black-gold signet, a few boxes of ledgers, and whatever papers survived the fire." "After that, she left. And no one has seen her since."