She'd locked herself away in that room for years, burying herself in housework and trivial chores, as if she were hiding from life itself.
Then came the diagnosis. A serious illness, and at her age, there was no cure.
When the doctor delivered the news, Corey actually looked relieved.
The money she'd earned had kept them comfortable for the better part of their lives, yet he still stuck her in a six-bed ward. Night after night, she lay awake, unable to sleep through the beeping monitors and the restless stirring of strangers.
It wasn't until the day he walked in with divorce papers that she finally understood. He had hated her all along.
Hated her for that phone call. Hated her for occupying the title of his wife. Hated her for not dying sooner.
"You're the one who asked for a divorce. What's the point of rehashing all this?"
Corey blinked, caught off guard. His Adam's apple bobbed once before he turned away.
"Fine. After the band finishes the National Championship, we'll go to City Hall and file."
Caroline couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
He didn't even know he'd already lost his entry ticket.
Then again, why would he? In her previous life, she was the one who'd registered the band, quietly bankrolled the whole thing, and personally dragged him to dinners with the organizers and judges. Corey probably thought the championship trophy was already sitting there with his name on it.
One of the other band members perked up, as if suddenly remembering something.
"Oh yeah, Corey, last time we asked about the entry fees and competition details, they still haven't gotten back to us. You think something's wrong? That judge seemed really into us."
Corey scoffed.
"They're probably just busy. Once we take the championship, we'll settle that score."
Letitia looped her arm through his and flashed a smile at Caroline.
"Thanks, sis. So generous of you to step aside for me."
She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper, eyes dark and venomous.
"Using your kid to chain Corey down? That's emotional blackmail. Caroline, I've told you before — you two aren't from the same world. Take a hint. Grab your brat and get lost."
Caroline didn't flinch.
"Spare me the soulmate act. You two seemed to be having plenty of fun at that hotel the other night. A mistress should at least have the decency to know her place."
Letitia's expression froze. She glared, seething.
"Just you wait."
Caroline didn't give the threat a second thought.
A few days later, Noah vanished.
An entire day and night passed. She tore through the apartment, the neighborhood, even the school. Nothing. She was seconds away from calling the police when Corey's number lit up her phone.
"Come pick up Noah."
A beat. Then he added, almost as an afterthought:
"Oh right, Letitia brought him over to my place. Forgot to mention it."
Rage flooded her brain like a match hitting gasoline. Caroline stormed into Letitia's apartment and slapped her across the face. Once. Twice. Three times.
"Who gave you permission to take my son?!"
Corey lunged forward and grabbed her arm.
"What the hell is wrong with you, you psycho?! You're hitting people now?!"
Caroline wrenched free and backhanded him across the cheek. Then again. Her voice was ice.
"Why didn't you tell me? Do you have any idea how terrified I was?!"
The sudden fury in her eyes made him falter. He went still for a moment.
"...Nothing happened. What's the big deal?"
Letitia clutched her reddened cheek, seizing the moment to play the victim.
"Caroline, I know you look down on me. But Noah is Corey's son too."
Her voice quavered with practiced hurt. "Besides, we were busy preparing for the competition and just forgot to let you know. Did you really have to hit me?"
Caroline laughed. A sharp, mirthless sound.
"You still think you're competing?" She locked eyes with Corey. "Keep dreaming."
She pulled out her phone, dialed, and held it up to Corey's ashen face.
He was about to explode when the voice on the other end stopped him cold. The color drained from his skin in an instant.
