Chapter 1"You used the strawberry condom! You KNEW I'm allergic to it!"
Ford and I had just finished. And now I was dying.
Like didn't hear me anything, he called her. Lyla.
Her laugh crackled through the speaker like nails on glass. "Ask her if it itches down there! Come on, we need a review for our little bet!"
A bet?!
My throat was closing. My skin was on fire. And they were treating it like a fucking game show.
And Ford? He just looked at me—not with panic, not with guilt—but with amusement.
"Stop being such a drama queen," he said, smirking. "It's just a joke."
A joke.
My agony was their entertainment. My death? Their foreplay.
In that moment, the man I married died too.
Fine.
This cute little game of theirs? OVER.
Now, it's time to play MY GAME.
---
After sex with Ford Holloway, Sylvia Morgan broke out in a severe allergic reaction.
An unbearable itch ignited between her legs and spread like wildfire. She bolted into the bathroom, only to see angry red hives creeping up her neck and consuming her face.
"Ford! Get the car! You need to take me to the ER, now! I'm having a reaction..."
Her voice died in her throat as her eyes landed on the wrapper in the trash can.
Strawberry flavored.
She turned on him, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Did you seriously use the strawberry one? You know I'm allergic!"
Ford looked up, finally registering the disaster written across her face.
But instead of rushing her to the hospital in a panic like he used to, he whipped out his phone, snapped a photo of her swollen face, and fired it off to his assistant, Lyla Gray.
"Lyla, you called it. Sylvia actually had a reaction."
"I didn't think that stuff could trigger it. You win this round."
Lyla's triumphant cackle erupted from the speakerphone.
"Told you! I'm a genius!"
"But I'm super curious—is she allergic down there too? Does it itch? Ask her! I need a review!"
Ford chuckled at her "creative curiosity," phone in hand as he turned to Sylvia.
"Hey Sylvia, is your..."
He stopped mid-sentence, his grin fading as he met Sylvia's tear-filled, horrified eyes.
He cleared his throat, wiping the smile off his face. "Ahem, let's talk later. I gotta run Sylvia to the hospital."
Lyla giggled. "Alright, alright. Go be the hero."
"Oh, and Ms. Morgan? I heard if your crotch itches, you should just smack it with a slipper! Works like a charm—you should try it!"
The amusement Ford was trying to suppress bubbled up in his eyes again.
He hung up, grabbed his car keys, and smirked at Sylvia. "Let's go. ER time."
He was so casual, so breezy, as if this nightmare was just a minor inconvenience.
Sylvia stared at him, frozen in place.
Two years of dating, three years of marriage, and suddenly he was a stranger—someone she didn't recognize at all.
Between the hives covering her body and her throat tightening, simply breathing was becoming a struggle.
Tears streamed down her face. "Don't you... have anything to say for yourself?"
Ford stopped at the door, impatient. "Explain what? Lyla's just a kid. She likes pranks. It was just a joke, Sylvia."
"You've had allergies a million times. You'll get a shot and be fine. Stop being such a drama queen."
It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head, the light in her eyes died instantly.
She met Ford at a track meet when she accidentally ate a strawberry lollipop and went into anaphylactic shock.
Ford had carried her on his back, running hundreds of meters to get her to the infirmary.
In their five years together, every time she had a reaction, he was always more terrified than she was.
But ever since Lyla—the girl who "loved pranks"—became his assistant, everything changed.
Lyla's first "prank" was making a deepfake sex tape of herself and Ford and sending it to Sylvia.
Sylvia didn't sleep a wink that night. The next morning, eyes red from crying, she broke up with him.
Ford begged and pleaded. When he found out it was Lyla, he dragged her over to apologize and swore he'd fire her.
But Lyla never stopped.
She swapped Sylvia's daily vitamins for weight-gain pills, stuffed sexy lingerie into Ford's pockets, and even climbed into Ford's bed naked.
Her obsession with Ford was loud, aggressive, and completely shameless.
And Ford went from being annoyed and angry to tolerating it... and eventually, enjoying it.
At first, when Sylvia got upset, he would panic and beg for forgiveness.
Then, he started brushing her off.
And now? He was in on the joke.
Since when did her life become cheap entertainment?
Since when did her suffering become foreplay for him and another woman?
Heart cold as ash, Sylvia's trembling hands dug into her purse for her emergency allergy meds.
She swallowed the pills, looked at Ford through her tears, and choked out, "Ford, I want a divorce."
Chapter 2
Ford froze, hand on the doorknob, and whipped his head around.
His expression darkened instantly. "Oh, here we go again. You really want to start this now?"
"How long is the silent treatment gonna last this time? A day? A week? A month?"
Sylvia clenched her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms, her body shaking from the heartache.
She forced a weak smile and mouthed the word: Forever.
Ford used to say the one thing he couldn't handle was her silence.
Every time they fought, he'd be a wreck—couldn't sit still, couldn't work.
Once, it got so bad he actually cut his own arm just to make her feel sorry for him.
She loved him, so she could never stay mad for long.
But the man who used to be terrified of losing her now acted like he was certain she'd never leave.
He looked down at her with pure arrogance. "Sylvia, are you really bringing up Lyla again?"
"You're so uptight. Why can't you learn from her? Loosen up, take a joke for once!"
"I told you, there is nothing going on between us. She's just a kid having fun, and I'm just humoring her."
"You're paranoid. One day it's separation, the next it's divorce. I'm human too, Sylvia. This gets old!"
The allergic reaction was getting worse, Sylvia was struggling for air and didn't have the energy to fight him.
She pushed past him and walked out the door.
"City Hall. Tomorrow, 9 AM."
Ford stopped mid-rant, glaring at her retreating back, and kicked the door violently.
He gritted his teeth and roared, "Fine! 9 AM tomorrow! If you don't show, you're a coward!"
Sylvia grabbed an Uber to the hospital, got her shot, and passed out.
The next morning, her alarm woke her up, and she headed straight to City Hall.
She waited until 10 AM, but Ford never showed.
She called him, but he wouldn't pick up.
Sick of his games, Sylvia got up and took a cab straight to Holloway Corp headquarters.
Just as she arrived at the building, her phone pinged. It was a notification for a new social media post from Ford.
Ford rarely posted anything personal—usually just corporate news.
But this time, it had absolutely nothing to do with work.
It was two sentences dripping with flirtatious affection.
I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong!
It's official: Princess Lyla is the cutest, smartest, best girl ever!
Lyla replied instantly in the comments: Hmph! That's what you get for calling me a dummy. Since you begged so nicely, I guess I'll forgive you, my Boss!
She attached a photo to her reply.
It was a selfie of her wearing a diamond necklace worth at least a million dollars.
Sylvia recognized it immediately. Ford had won that necklace at an auction days ago as her third-anniversary gift.
She had been so happy, pretending she didn't know, waiting for him to surprise her.
And now, it was hanging around Lyla's neck.
A bitter pain pierced her chest. She saved the photo without expression and forwarded it to her lawyer.
"Save this as evidence. I want to sue Lyla for unjust enrichment and reclaim marital assets."
She sent the text and marched upstairs.
As she reached Ford's office, his executive assistant rushed over in a panic.
"Mrs. Holloway... wait! Mr. Holloway is... uh... busy right now. Let me announce you first, he—"
Back when they were happy, Ford had brought her here himself and told everyone that seeing her was the same as seeing him.
Since when did she need an appointment to see her own husband?
Sylvia's eyes went cold. Ignoring the assistant's pale face, she shoved the office doors open.
Inside, Ford was leaning back in his executive chair.
Lyla was straddling his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, cooing at him. "Mr. CEO, since you made me so happy, wanna play a fun game?"
Blocked by Lyla's body, Ford didn't see Sylvia at the door.
He looked up at Lyla, voice husky. "You little brat, what do you wanna play?"
Lyla giggled, tracing a finger down his chest and grinding her hips lightly against his lap.
"Let's bet on how many seconds you can last without getting hard!"
The assistant, seeing Sylvia's face, couldn't take it anymore and shouted, "Mr. Holloway! Your wife is here!"
Chapter 3
The two of them froze. Lyla shrieked and whipped her head around to glare at Sylvia.
"What the hell? Are you a pervert? Don't you know how to knock?"
Ford scrambled to push her off his lap, looking at Sylvia with an awkward flush. "What are you doing here?"
He offered a dry, guilty explanation that fooled absolutely no one.
"We were just... joking around."
Sylvia let out a cold laugh. "So that's what you call a 'joke' these days."
Ford looked embarrassed, but Lyla just smirked. "Yeah, that's how young people have fun. You probably wouldn't get it, Sylvia, seeing as you're, like, ancient."
She crossed her arms, looking Sylvia up and down with pure arrogance.
"Tsk tsk, you look terrible. Gonna throw another tantrum?"
"Are you gonna cry and make Ford comfort you again? That pity party act is getting so old."
Ford frowned and tugged at her arm, his voice low. "Enough, Lyla. Stop it."
Lyla stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes at Sylvia, but shut up.
Sylvia gripped her purse strap and looked at Ford. "Let's go. We need to get to City Hall."
"You said yesterday that whoever didn't show up is a coward. You're already acting like a piece of trash—don't tell me you want to be a lying piece of trash too?"
Ford paused, his face turning pitch black. "Sylvia, are you serious?"
"Cut the crap. It's been a whole night, aren't you over it yet?"
"I let last night slide, but you still want to make a scene? Keep this up and you're just embarrassing yourself."
Lyla laughed. "Omigod, Ford, don't you get it?"
"She's just bluffing. There is no way she's giving up the title of Mrs. Holloway."
She stepped closer to Sylvia. "Okay, Sylvia, stop threatening him with divorce."
"Last night was my idea, okay? I'll apologize for him. Happy now?"
"Sorry, sorry, soooo sorry. Jeez, stop being mad. You already have resting frigid face—if you keep frowning you're gonna get wrinkles!"
Sylvia was going to just handle business, but she decided she had a moment to spare.
Staring at the sparkling diamond necklace on Lyla's neck, she chuckled darkly.
"You're apologizing for him?"
"You manipulative little pick-me girl. No talent, but plenty of audacity."
"I got your suggestion last night. And seeing how you two were acting just now, I think your 'treatment plan' makes a lot of sense."
"Let me try it out."
Lyla looked at her, confused. "What do you mean..."
Before she could finish, Sylvia dropped her bag, grabbed a fistful of Lyla's hair, and kicked her hard in the stomach.
Lyla shrieked, caught completely off guard, and crashed to the floor.
Sylvia lunged forward, ripped off her shoe with a sneer, and smashed it right into Lyla's crotch.
"Didn't you say if it itches down there, I should smack it with a shoe?"
"You look pretty itchy to me—let me scratch that for you!"
Whack! Whack! Whack!
She rained down a dozen blows. Lyla squealed like a dying pig, mascara running down her face.
"Ford! Help me!!!"
Ford finally snapped out of it, rushed over, and shoved Sylvia away violently.
Sylvia stumbled back and slammed her hip against the sharp edge of the coffee table, her face draining of color.
But Ford ignored her completely, tenderly scooping Lyla into his arms.
He turned to Sylvia, furious. "Look at yourself! Have you lost your damn mind?"
Sylvia laughed through her tears. "What's wrong? I was just playing a prank on her."
"You guys love pranks, right? Why aren't you laughing? Is it not funny?"
Lyla curled up in Ford's arms, sobbing pitifully.
"Ford... it hurts..."
Ford hugged her tighter, heartbroken. "Don't worry, I'm taking you to the hospital."
He carried her out, glaring coldly at Sylvia as he passed. "You went too far this time. I'll deal with you later!"
As they passed Sylvia, Lyla deliberately kicked Sylvia in the side with her heel.
Sylvia, already bruised from the table, went pale as the sharp pain shot through her waist.
She looked up and caught Lyla's venomous, triumphant glare.
Lyla mouthed silently: Bitch. You'll never beat me.
Sylvia scoffed and called out to Ford's retreating back, "I'll be waiting at City Hall in an hour."
