Archie fixed me with a sharp glare, his voice as cold as ice.
"It was you who slipped in the bathroom, Wendy. You were the one who wasn’t careful, and now you’re blaming Claire?"
I sat on the edge of the bed, my body still aching from the fall.
"You’re not a good wife," he continued without hesitation, his words cutting deep. "You can’t even look after yourself properly. You took vitamins recklessly without consulting the doctor, then refused to care for Zac. Claire was only helping, but instead of being grateful, you lashed out at her?"
I looked up at him, my eyes burning. Not a good wife?
My fingers curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. "Not a good wife?" My voice trembled, thick with the anger I was barely restraining. "And what about you? Were you there when I fell? Did you even bother to check what was in those vitamins I took?"
Archie exhaled sharply, as if I was being insufferable. "The family doctor prescribed them to you. They’re just vitamins to support your health—not that it seems to have helped much in the end. And as for the bathroom incident… that was purely your fault."
I let out a cold, bitter laugh. "My fault? You really think, out of everyone in this house, I’m the only one who could ‘accidentally’ take a tumble?"
His expression tightened with frustration. "You always want to blame someone else. If you’d been more careful, none of this would have happened."
I held his gaze.
A liar.
A traitor.
Before I could think twice, my hand darted to the dressing table, fingers wrapping around a pair of scissors. Without hesitation, I dragged the blade across my wrist.
A sharp sting. Then, warm blood spilled onto the floor.
Archie’s eyes went wide in horror. "Wendy! What the hell are you doing?!"
I let the scissors clatter to the floor, my vision blurring. "Just making amends." My voice was eerily calm. "You said I wasn’t a good wife, wasn’t a decent mum… so this is my punishment, isn’t it?"
I staggered towards the door, blood trailing behind me.
Just as I reached it, a soft, artificial voice rang out.
"Archie… I’m scared. Wendy… she’s dangerous."
I froze. Slowly, I turned my head.
Claire was leaning against Archie, gripping his sleeve, her expression one of perfect, rehearsed fear.
Archie hesitated, his gaze flicking between us.
Claire tugged on his arm, voice frail. "Archie, I feel dizzy… Can you take me to the hospital?"
Archie looked at me for a long moment. Then, as always… he made his choice.
He wrapped his arm around Claire and led her away.
I stood there, watching him walk off with another woman while I bled right in front of him.
At that moment, my phone vibrated. A message from Leon.
[I’ve finalised the plan. Tomorrow, go to the Thames bridge. I’ll take care of the rest.]
The message was like a breath of fresh air. Soon… I’ll be free of Archie’s life. Somehow.
The next morning, Archie still hadn’t come home.
I packed my things—all the designer dresses, jewellery, and gifts he had given me—and tossed them into a suitcase. Then, I retrieved our marriage certificate, the one I had once cherished so dearly, and ripped it apart. I let the pieces fall into the sink, set them alight, and watched them burn to ash.
As the last embers flickered, my phone vibrated again. A message from Archie.
[Wendy, I’ve booked the venue for our wedding celebration. My assistant will pick you up shortly.]
I stared at the message. Then, out of curiosity, I opened social media.
Claire had posted a photo.
She and Archie sat at a restaurant—the same one where our wedding celebration was supposed to be planned—holding hands across the table. Zac was in a stroller beside them, fast asleep.
My heart no longer ached.
I didn’t reply to Archie’s message. Instead, I took the signed divorce papers and handed them to a courier, instructing them to deliver them directly to the banquet.
Once everything was set, I called Leon.
"I’m ready."
Taking my Mini Cooper’s keys from the dressing table, I drove towards the Thames bridge.
In the car, parked not far from the bridge, I watched them on the small dashboard screen.
Archie was in the VIP lounge with Claire and Zac, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
So, this is what waiting for me looks like, is it, Archie?
I glanced down at my phone. Dozens of missed calls from him.
Oh, so now you’re desperate?
With Leon’s help, I had hacked into the restaurant’s CCTV. I’d also paid off a waiter to plant a listening device in their room. Now, I saw and heard everything perfectly.
The VIP room door burst open. Thomas, Archie’s assistant, rushed in, breathless and pale.
"Sir, Mrs Knight isn’t in the penthouse."
Archie’s brows knitted. "What do you mean?"
Thomas swallowed and placed a medium-sized box on the table. "I… I found this in the courtyard. Alongside some burnt remains that were still fresh."
Archie exchanged glances with Claire before prying the box open. His face went rigid.
With a sharp flick of his wrist, he knocked the box over, sending its contents scattering across the floor.
"What the fuck is this?!"
Photographs spilled everywhere.
Shots of Archie and Claire at a hotel. On holiday. Kissing in a nightclub. Some of their most intimate moments.
Amongst the pile, a copy of Zac’s birth certificate landed face up. Archie's name was listed as the biological father. Claire as the mother.
And at the very top—a white envelope.
Inside, my signed divorce papers.
The room turned deathly silent.
Archie clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists as he glared at the evidence.
Thomas shifted uneasily. "Sir…"
"What now?!" Archie barked, his temper flaring.
Thomas hesitated before shakily handing over his tablet. "You need to see this."
Archie snatched it, eyes widening as he took in the screen. A stock market graph was plummeting.
OAK GROUP SHARES TANKING
And beneath the headline, a more damning line of text:
"CEO SCANDAL EXPOSED! INFIDELITY & SECRET CHILD SHAKE COMPANY REPUTATION"
Archie went completely still. His face drained of colour.
Claire gasped, her hands covering her mouth.
"No… no, this can’t be happening," Archie whispered.
Before he could fully process the damage, Thomas spoke again, voice trembling.
"Sir… there’s more bad news."
Archie whipped around, eyes blazing. "For fuck’s sake, just say it, Thomas!"
Thomas took a shaky breath. "Mrs Knight’s car… fell from the Thames Bridge. A sixty-eight-foot drop. The police and rescue teams are on the scene."
A cold, suffocating silence blanketed the room.
Claire clung to Archie’s arm, her nails digging in, but he didn’t react. His hands were still clenched, veins bulging under the pressure.
I smiled faintly.
From behind the wheel, I glanced at my phone one last time.
The wreckage of my Mini Cooper, floating in the murky depths of the Thames, was displayed across the news.
Goodbye, Archie.
