I trudged upstairs with a pale face, only to find that my master bedroom and studio had been completely transformed into a baby’s room. The walls were adorned with large maternity photos of Serena lying in Isaiah’s arms, her belly exposed. Their sweet smiles—those that had once been mine too—blurred my vision, filling me with a sickening sense of betrayal.
My belongings had been carelessly tossed into the garbage dump in the backyard, including our wedding photo. The one she had once placed so carefully on our bedside table, now lying discarded in a pile of dirt. The photo, my life, was now reduced to nothing.
I glanced at my scratched-up face, the marks and bruises, a cruel reminder of everything I had endured. Footprints from Serena's high heels marred the floor where our shared memories once stood.
I took a deep breath, trying to suppress the ache in my chest.
Forget it. There was nothing left to pack.
I grabbed my passport and some important documents, preparing to leave the place that had once been my home.
Just as I turned to leave, the door swung open, and there they were—Serena and Isaiah, both smiling as if they hadn’t just destroyed everything I held dear.
But when their eyes landed on me, their joy faltered.
Serena’s face twisted into an expression of hidden satisfaction, almost mocking. "Oh, aren’t you proud of yourself? I told you not to come back, and yet here you are. Did you see my honeymoon with Isaiah and feel jealous? Regretful?"
Her voice dripped with spite.
"It’s too late," she continued, her tone icy. "Even if you beg and cry, I won’t forgive you."
Isaiah, trying to force a smile, added, "Serena, this is your wedding room, after all. How can I come here? If your Anthony sees this, he might get angry again."
Serena shot me a sharp glance, her voice cutting like ice. "I’ve made myself clear. Even if I marry him, what does it matter? You’re the third party—the one who’s unloved. You’re not worthy of me having his child. Isn’t that right, Anthony?"
I was exhausted, my spirit crushed. I handed her the divorce agreement, my voice barely a whisper. "Sign this, and you can have everything you want—both in law and in your heart. You can be Isaiah’s wife."
Without a word, she let go of Isaiah’s hand and walked over to snatch the divorce papers from me. In an instant, she ripped them to shreds, the pieces falling like confetti, landing across my face.
I closed my eyes and listened to the venom in her voice as she gritted her teeth. "You want a divorce? You’re dreaming!"
"You’ve wasted years of my life, and now you think you can just walk away? No, Anthony. You’ll pay for this."
I let out a hollow laugh, my voice trembling. "As long as you sign the divorce, I’ll give you everything—every penny. I’ll leave with nothing."
Isaiah froze, his breath catching as he struggled to contain his excitement.
Serena grabbed my wrist, fury and disbelief flashing across her face.
"I don’t want your dirty money!" she spat. "Where do you think you're going? Gwen’s back, and you can’t stand being in this house anymore, can you?"
"What does Gwen have to do with this?" I couldn’t keep the frustration from spilling out. "Do I really have to sit here and watch you two parading around together?"
I glared at her, my words cutting. "Do you have some kind of sick need to make this public? Is it not enough that I’m already here, watching you two flaunt your happiness?"
Her breath hitched, but then a flash of realization crossed her face. She smiled knowingly.
"Are you jealous?" she asked, her voice laced with mock sweetness.
She let go of my wrist and walked over to Isaiah. "You know, every time I went out on a date with Isaiah, you always drove me there, remember?"
The memory struck me like a punch to the gut. I remembered how, after her miscarriage, I’d taken extra care to make sure she wasn’t overexerting herself, worrying about her health. I’d been naïve enough to believe I was protecting her, but it turned out I had been facilitating their affair.
"You knew all my needs," she continued, her voice a sickening whisper. "You knew when to pass me the Smurfs, when to hand me the wet wipes..."
I clenched my fists, the pain in my palms a reminder of how much I had suffered. "Don’t go too far," I said, my voice low and dangerous.
She sneered, her words dripping with venom. "I’m not the one who sleeps with one woman one minute and marries another the next."
