Sydney’s words were like a dagger to my chest, dismissing Kya’s actions so nonchalantly it felt like he had forgiven her on my behalf. In the end, somehow, it was always me who ended up in the wrong. Love and indifference—was there ever a clearer contrast?
My throat felt dry and raw, but I swallowed back the torrent of tears threatening to spill.
Just then, my best friend returned from the restroom and upon seeing Sydney, she exploded in rage. “You piece of trash! How dare you treat Florence this way? I swear, I want to stab you both, you disgusting scumbags!”
She stepped closer, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Florence is your wife! Instead of standing by her, you’re defending this skank? Where is your brain?”
“And don’t forget,” she continued, voice dripping with venom, “everything you have today is thanks to Florence. You’re nothing but a freeloading loser, Sydney. Don’t act like you’ve forgotten how Florence’s dad helped you when no one else would. Mr. Lancaster just went abroad to meet his business partner, he’s not dead.”
The mention of my father shattered the last of my composure. Tears streamed down my face as I thought of him—the one person who had always loved me unconditionally, who would never let me suffer in silence.
Sydney smirked, his laugh filled with mockery. “So what if he helped me? Forcing his daughter on me back then wasn’t exactly a noble act, was it?”
“I’ll say it one last time,” he continued coldly, “I’m not cheating. Once I get Kya settled, I’ll come back to the family.”
His words ground my self-esteem into the dirt. As if his “return” was some kind of charity I should be grateful for.
But he wasn’t an emperor and I wasn’t some concubine reliant on his favor to survive.
I grabbed my bag and hurled it at his face. “Sydney, let’s get divorced. I hope you and Kya get together and rot in hell.”
Sydney froze for a moment, then wiped at the blood trickling from the cut on his face. “Florence, do you think you’ll ever find someone who loves you more than I do?”
My best friend scoffed. “Love? You’ve treated Florence like dirt and you have the nerve to talk about love? She’s the best thing that ever happened to you and you’re too blind to see it.”
She bent down to pick up my bag, but her gaze fell on a document peeking out from inside. Her expression turned to shock as she turned to me. “Florence, is this—”
Before she could finish, I yanked the paper from her hands, crumpled it up and tossed it into the trash.
“Let’s go,” I said, forcing a smile. “My treat for the concert tonight.”
Sydney’s brow furrowed as he grabbed my wrist. “Florence, are you hiding something from me?”
I let out a cold laugh and pried his fingers off me. “And what does that have to do with you?”
His gaze darkened as he searched my face for answers, but I gave him nothing.
He strode toward the trash can, determined to fish out the paper, but Kya blocked his path, clutching her stomach. “Sydney, my stomach hurts so much. It’s probably from when Florence kicked me earlier. Please, take me to the hospital.”
Sydney shot me a look before taking her hand. “I’ll deal with you when I get back.”
I watched their retreating figures disappear, my heart hardening with resolve. Picking up my phone, I dialed my father’s number.
I was done with Sydney. This marriage was over and I wouldn’t look back.
I made up my mind—not only would I leave him, but I wouldn’t keep the baby, either. It was time to cut ties, completely and irreversibly.
Ever since Kya returned, Sydney had made her his top priority. He seemed to have conveniently forgotten everything that happened at the beauty salon. His visits home grew increasingly rare, but I didn’t mind the solitude. It was liberating to be free of his presence.
Quietly, I went to the hospital and terminated the pregnancy. Afterward, I stayed at home to recover, finding solace in the peace that came with Sydney’s absence.
Yet, he misinterpreted my silence as submission, convincing himself that I had finally learned my “place.” His audacity with Kya only grew—publicly parading their relationship as if I no longer existed.
He began taking her to lavish galas, using his influence to help her expand her social connections. With him backing her, no one dared criticize her, at least not openly.
At an auction, Kya fell in love with the Heart of Africa gemstone. Sydney didn’t hesitate, spending three hundred million to buy it for her and commissioning a designer to turn it into an exclusive jewelry set.
Their public displays of affection became a constant fixture, their smiles and laughter gracing every social event. They were the epitome of a “perfect couple,” or so it seemed to everyone else.
