Chapter 1Twenty years married, and our text thread looked like a fucking spreadsheet. Just numbers. 1 for yes, 2 for no.
Working late tonight? 1.
Coming home? 2.
I kept telling myself it was fine.
He's a genius physicist. A national asset. He couldn't just drop everything for me.
On our anniversary, I worked up the nerve to ask if he'd come home that night.
This time, no number.
Instead? A 60-second voice message from HER.
"Hey babe, gimme another hour. Your husband's still going down on me."
"You handle his meals, I handle his dick. Kinda feels like we're tag-teaming him. Sharing is caring, right?"
My hands shook so hard I nearly dropped the phone.
I grabbed my keys and drove straight to his lab.
Through the door crack, I saw him.
Garrett was on top of HER, going at it like a goddamn piston.
The sounds—his breathing, her moaning—felt like knives in my ears.
I stood there forever. Then knocked.
---
When Garrett came out, his face was blank. No guilt. No panic. Nothing.
Those dark eyes hit me for a second. Then he said:
"Let's talk at home."
Then put his hand out.
I didn't move.
Twenty years of this. First date? Hand out, waiting. First kiss? Same thing. Proposal? Yep.
Even sex—what little we had—always him standing there like I'm supposed to come to him.
Now? After screwing someone else? Still wants me to take his hand?
"Faye?"
He said my name. But his head was looking back at her.
At whoever he's got his back to. Couldn't even see her face.
My nose burned.
I smiled anyway.
"You gonna introduce me or what?"
That's when he actually looked at me. Guilt written all over him. Eyes begging.
"Faye, let's just go home, okay?"
He didn't wait for an answer. Just grabbed my collar and shoved me aside. Hard.
Then turned back to her. Voice soft as hell:
"Go. Now."
Her heels clicked away.
Garrett watched the whole time. Didn't see the nail that cut my cheek.
He wasn't always like this.
Back in college, after he got his shit together, he actually cared. Got me coffee. Walked me to class. Asked about my day.
After we married, he'd skip meetings if I had cramps. Warm hands on my stomach. Wrote me letters every birthday.
But all that warmth?
Gone.
Hard to care when I'm bleeding and he doesn't even see it.
My eyes burned. I blinked. Pulled my arm back.
"She's gone. Stop staring."
He froze. Didn't turn around.
I didn't wait this time. Got in the car first.
By the time we got home, it was almost 11.
I'd barely kicked off my shoes when he picked me up.
Set me on the couch. Grabbed the first aid kit. Got down on his knees.
His eyes looked worried. Real worried.
"I'm sorry..."
I didn't say anything. Just sat there while he cleaned my cut. Real gentle.
Even though his neck was covered in hickeys.
Same spot he knelt when we got married. When he swore he'd love me forever.
Same look.
But now? Totally different.
He tossed the bloody cotton in the trash. Shut the kit.
I put my hand out.
"Phone."
He froze. The worried look disappeared. Now he just looked pissed.
"Leave her alone. I'll handle it."
I almost laughed.
All that kneeling. All that guilt. Just so I'd leave his precious mistress alone.
Like hell.
I grabbed his phone off the table. And saw her on the lockscreen—smiling, all shy and sweet.
Password was still my birthday.
But his top chat? Some girl named Sienna.
Her every single message? He answered her instantly.
Our chat? Blank. The last thing I sent was two weeks ago.
[Coming home for dinner?]
He never replied.
Next day, he just said: "Forgot. Busy."
I knew he had that big project. So I didn't complain.
Made him healthy meals. Had them delivered to the lab.
Turns out? All that energy I gave him? He used it to fuck her.
Then one message stood out:
[your wife's been on hold for like 2 weeks. you coming home tonight?]
[nah im over her.]
My hands shook.
Twenty years. My whole youth. Gone. And all I got was "over me."
Eyes stinging. I kept scrolling anyway.
This guy used to recite physics formulas during sex. Now he's wearing leather and lace for her.
He took her to the Nobel thing. Let her play Mrs. Ashford for the night. But told me no for years.
Then I saw it. She asked him: "who do you like more, me or your wife?"
He said:
[she's loose. you're tight.]
That's it. Twenty years down the drain.
The more I read, the dumber I felt. Handed his phone back.
"Faye, I'm a guy. I got needs. Shit just... happened."
"Don't blow this up. Just let it go."
Still talking all sweet like he's not full of shit.
But I had to know.
Pointed at her picture.
"Why her? The bitch who killed your parents?"
Chapter 2
I grabbed his collar. My voice cracked.
"Remember? She hit them. Backed up. Hit them again. Your parents were roadkill."
Garrett wouldn't look at me. When he finally spoke, he said.
"She was just a kid. It was an accident."
He paused, then added:
"And my parents... they shouldn't have been out there anyway."
I stared at him.
Started laughing. Couldn't stop.
After his parents died, Sienna got scared he'd sue. So she made his life hell.
Made him drink piss. Crawl around barking like a dog. Filmed all of it and put it online.
I remembered how broken he was.
I spent twenty years watching for her. Keeping tabs. Making sure she never came near him again.
And now?
He forgave her. Fucked her. Tried every sex position with her that he never did with me.
Said they "couldn't help themselves."
So what the hell was my twenty years for?
Thunder rumbled outside. His phone rang.
He answered without looking at me.
"Garrett, they rejected my thesis data. If I don't fix this tonight, I'm fucked..."
Sienna's voice. All whiny and sweet.
Garrett swallowed hard. Started throwing his shoes on.
"Hang on babe. I'm coming."
Like I'm not even standing right there.
I got in his way.
"Don't go."
He looked pissed.
"Faye! This is her career we're talking about. She's not some useless housewife. Move."
That word knocked the air out of me.
Useless.
He grabbed me by the collar and shoved me straight into the cabinet.
My cut ripped open. I couldn't breathe.
"Garrett, it hurts—"
SLAM.
The whole apartment shook.
Blood ran down my face.
I didn't touch it.
Just walked like a zombie to the kitchen. Grabbed the lunchbox I'd packed him this morning.
Started eating.
Then it hit me—this same food made it to the lab today. Where he was with her.
My stomach turned. Bolted to the bathroom and threw it all up.
That's when my phone rang.
Garrett's boss.
"Faye, Garrett's at Mount Sinai. Get over here."
"What? What happened?"
Before he could say anything, I heard some girl crying.
"If you hadn't asked those investors for data, they wouldn't have forced you to drink so much! Now you're bleeding internally!"
"Let me make you some soup—"
Garrett's voice, all weak and pathetic:
"Nah. Just stay. Let Faye handle it. That's what she does."
"You sure...?"
"Yeah. Your hands are for research. For awards. Not kitchen work..."
My throat burned.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Thin. Exhausted. Old.
That's when I got it.
To this genius physicist, his wife was just the maid.
Mistress gets the career. Wife does the grunt work.
"Faye, he's lost a lot of blood. You need to get here now."
I wiped the blood off my face.
"Not coming. But let me know when you're holding that cheating scandal press conference. I'll be front row."
I hung up.
Started laughing.
Garrett probably forgot—I was the second-highest scorer at MIT that year. Right after him.
He'd already been recruited by Fermilab. Offered early admission.
For me, he tore up that offer. Said he'd go wherever I went.
I yelled at him:
"Are you crazy? You can't just give up everything!"
He shook his head. Eyes bloodshot.
"I go where you go. None of it means shit without you."
He taped that ripped-up offer back together. Brought it to my parents' house like some kind of promise.
Got down on his knees at their front door and literally banged his forehead on the ground.
"Please. Faye is my whole life."
"I'd rather be dead than lose her."
When Garrett made promises, his eyes lit up like stars.
I believed him. Believed "whole life" meant whole life.
So I gave up grad school. Became his support system. Disappeared into his rising career. Buried myself in domestic shit.
Got called "useless" for it.
Funny how life works.
Like tonight. I went to the lab to tell him he was gonna be a dad.
Turns out I became the joke.
Next day, I came home from the lawyer's office.
My parents called. Both of them pissed.
"Faye! What the hell did you do to Garrett?"
I froze.
How was I supposed to tell them he cheated and I wanted out?
"Mom, Dad, no—"
"Someone threw red paint all over our house! Some girl named Sienna! She's out there screaming you're a homewrecker who stole her husband!"
"The whole neighborhood saw it! Your mother passed out twice!"
Dad completely lost it:
"What's wrong with you? You that desperate for dick? We're getting harassed because of you! Fix this shit or we're done!"
Click.
At the same time, I heard a laugh from the bedroom.
The door opened.
Sienna stood there.
Younger than her photos. Skin like porcelain. Bright eyes. Holding my torn-up pregnancy test.
"Like my gift to your parents?"
Chapter 3
She smiled. So sweet. But somehow made my skin crawl.
I pulled out my phone to call 911.
She slapped it out of my hand.
Then shook her head, grinning.
"Dummy. Your husband gave me the key."
I stood there. Shaking with rage.
She tilted her head.
"Can't handle it?"
"Oh honey, I don't just have a key. I've got access to his research. His money. His whole fucking life."
I forced myself to breathe. Stay calm.
"I'm pregnant. I'm his legal wife. He can't risk everything for you."
She looked at me like I was an idiot.
Then burst out laughing. That shrill, psycho laugh.
Walked right up in my face. Eyes locked on my belly.
Voice all slow and mocking:
"Aww, you think a baby's gonna trap him? Like you thought twenty years would?"
"God, you're so fucking stupid."
She tilted her head back and just kept laughing.
Then both her hands went to her belly.
I could see it clearly.
The curve. The swell.
Sienna looked at my frozen face. Smug as hell.
"I'm three months along. Garrett's divorcing you the minute this project's done. Already cleared it with his bosses."
"Honestly? You should start fucking around. Find yourself someone new..."
So she'd been in my house for months.
Fucking him in my bed. On my couch. In my shower.
The sound of glass beakers clanking in that lab exploded in my ears again.
The last bit of self-control I had? Gone.
Grabbed the vase and hurled it straight at her face.
She shrieked.
Too slow. It smashed into her forehead. Blood everywhere.
Everything I'd been choking down—her shit, my parents getting attacked—it just exploded.
I lost it completely.
Tackled her. Got on top of her and started slamming her head into the coffee table over and over.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Her screams cut through the silence. Sounded almost good.
Blood everywhere. Made me want more. I yanked at her scalp, screaming:
"FUCKING BITCH! HOMEWRECKER! YOU KILLED HIS PARENTS! MURDERER!"
"WHY AREN'T YOU DEAD YET?! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"
I lost it completely. Nothing but rage.
Sienna's face was covered in blood. Forehead, nose, mouth—all red.
She screamed until she had no voice left.
I didn't stop. Dug my nails into her face. Bit down on her ear. Stomped on her pregnant belly.
She kept shrieking. Blood poured out between her legs.
I watched the red puddle grow. Stopped for half a second.
That's when something crashed into my stomach. White-hot pain ripped through me.
I went flying backward.
Squelch.
Something tore through my skin.
The umbrella stand—its metal spike went clean through me.
"NO!"
I heard Garrett scream.
"Faye! FAYE! Talk to me!"
Garrett's rage hit its peak. Then crashed into pure terror.
That sound. That wet squelch.
The burst of red.
Punched straight through him.
He frozen for maybe a second. Then rushed over and yanked me up from the blood.
"Faye? Say something. Please."
Nothing.
I was warm. But my breathing got weaker.
He started shaking.
He didn't mean to. He just heard Sienna came here alone. Scared she'd get hurt.
But soon as he walked in, saw his wife—usually so gentle—on top of Sienna like a psycho.
On top of the mother of his child.
Something snapped.
He ran over and kicked her off.
Didn't think about the umbrella stand.
"Faye? Answer me. Please."
He knelt. Didn't dare touch me. Scared he'd make it worse.
Just kept calling my name.
Sienna got up.
Walked over like nothing happened. Pulled out her phone. Voice totally calm:
"Yeah, hi, Mount Sinai? Coworker's wife just got hurt. Accident. Address is..."
Recited it like she'd memorized it beforehand.
Clicked off. She let out a breath. Squeezed Garrett's shoulder.
"Don't worry. She's not gonna die."
"We need to make this look like an accident. Her parents, the hospital, everyone—they need to believe it was just bad luck."
"Garrett, you're Fermilab's golden boy. National fucking priority. Father of my baby. Your career can't blow up because of this."
"So we stick to the story. Got it?"
Her eyes sparkled.
For the first time, Garrett felt his blood run cold.
Forgotten gray memories clawed back up.
He remembered being fifteen.
His parents' car accident. Police called it an accident.
But Sienna didn't stop there. She brought her gang. Cornered him at school. Threw soccer balls at him. Stabbed him with a pocket knife.
Made him crawl on all fours. Dragged him around the field like a dog.
Laughter everywhere.
Sienna stood on his head. Smiled down at him all sweet.
"It was an accident..."
All that shit he'd buried came flooding back.
Garrett grabbed his chest. Looked at Sienna. Looked at me bleeding out.
Then he just dropped.
