I've been married to Elliot Graves, the mafia drug lord in NYC, for the past eight years. But today—on our wedding anniversary—I received a photo of him with my best friend, Lila, celebrating as if they were the ones married. And in her arms was my son, Owen. I stared at the image, then typed out two words in reply. “How perfect.” Half a hour later, Elliot stormed through the front door. His voice thundered through the hallway. “Why do you always have to be so bitchy to Lila?” Owen, my own little boy, shoved at my leg and glared. “Bad Momma,” he said. “I wish Miss Lila was my real mommy.” I didn’t flinch. I simply walked over to the drawer, pulled out the crisp stack of papers I’d long prepared, and dropped them on the table with a quiet finality. “Alright,” I said, my voice calm. “It’s all my fault. Now, can I go?”
view moreSoon after, I received a call from Mr. Ivory. He invited me to visit the vineyard I had sold to him, saying he had a surprise waiting there for me.I went—gladly.He was waiting by his sleek black Lamborghini, dressed head-to-toe in one of his signature suits. As always, composed, unreadable. He took me to one of the finest restaurants in the city, and by the time we reached our second glass of wine, he slid a folder across the table toward me.A contract.“I took control of your ex’s drug operation,” he said, like he was offering me an extra dessert. “Turns out he failed at being a husband, but not at being a drug dealer. These are all his clients—politicians, celebrities, influencers. And this—” he tapped the second page, “—this is a list of every property, every grow site, every hidden lab. You could use this to build something of your own, if you want.”I stared at him. “Ivory… You didn’t have to do this for me. You’ve done enough already.”He smiled, smooth and unbothered. “No, Ol
Lila collapsed onto the pavement, dress crumpling beneath her. She looked like a woman freshly broken—tears streaking her cheeks, sobs echoing down the courthouse steps.“You played the innocent girl,” I said coolly, “but you weren’t. You lied. You blamed me for what you did. And now? You’re just mad the truth won’t stay buried.”Elliot pulled Lila into his arms, casting me a look full of disgust—disappointment, too, like I’d somehow betrayed him.“I never thought you’d take it this far,” he spat. “Sending that recording wasn’t enough? You had to show up in person? Bring some thug to play backup for your fake little story?”“Fake or not,” I said, shrugging, “tie Lila up to a truth machine and find out.”I turned to Jason. “You brought the guy?”He nodded once. “Didn’t think we’d be using it this way—but yeah, I brought him. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get the chance to lie.”“Thanks. Tell Ivory I owe him one,” I said smoothly. Then, glancing at Selena, “Stay with Jason. Mak
He paused like he’d just won a battle. “Knew it. You’re just pretending not to care.”“No,” I said calmly. “I just wanted to tell you—meet me at the courthouse tomorrow. I’ll bring my lawyer. Let’s get the divorce done before you have a chance to second-guess it.”His mouth twisted. “Fine. I will. I can’t wait to get rid of you. You’re evil. Cunning. Who the hell would ever love someone like you?”And with that, he stormed out—dragging his broken damsel behind him.I didn’t move or speak. I just sat back down in my chair like nothing had happened.Selena hovered nearby, hesitant. “If you’re… sad about it,” she said softly, “you don’t have to hold it in. It’s okay to feel something. Even if he was a jackass.”I shook my head. “I’m not sad. I just wish I’d done it sooner. I was a coward before.”Her smile was cautious, but there. “So you’re really not…?”“No. I’m relieved.”“That’s good,” she said, grinning now. “Because honestly? I was terrified you’d go soft on that bastard.”I laughed
Elliot’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenched so hard I thought I’d hear teeth crack. “Are you sure you want to do this? I came all the way here. I apologized. I haven’t even done anything wrong. Don’t push your luck.”I let out a soft laugh. “Quit pretending you came here out of love. We both know why you’re really here. You just want me to go back and be a dedicated maid to you and your family.”That did it.He clenched his fists, seething.And right on cue, Lila stepped forward for the grand finale. “It’s all my fault,” she whispered. “If it weren’t for me, Elliot and Owen wouldn’t feel the need to check on me. But don’t blame Elliot—he’s only trying to help. He still sees me as just a friend.”She turned to Elliot, voice trembling like she was auditioning for a tragic play. “Please don’t be mad at Olivia. Don’t argue with her. You’re only upset because of me.”Ah. The martyr act.She was really pulling out all the stops tonight.“If you forgive him,” she whispered dramatically, “I’ll le
“You feeling better now?” Selena stepped into the office, balancing a glass of water on a tray.“Yeah. Better. Thanks.” I offered a small smile, taking it from her hands.She hesitated. “Sorry if I overheard... were you arguing with your husband?”“Yep. Just another normal day, another normal argument... over a bitch.” I couldn’t think of a more delicate way to describe Lila, and honestly? I didn’t feel like trying.Selena’s brows shot up, then she laughed. “Don’t we all have that kind of bitch in our lives.”“Mine’s a little different,” I sighed, taking a slow sip. “She blames me for something she did.”“That’s next-level bitchy,” Selena muttered, eyes narrowing. “And your husband? He doesn’t believe you?”“Of course not. He’s always seen me as the villain.” I smiled bitterly. “I guess I was just too much woman for him to handle.”“Nonsense,” she said, chin lifting. “You’re powerful. Independent. You run a successful business. He should be grateful to have you.”I couldn’t help a dry
I underestimated my strength.Because as soon as I returned to the casino, everything caught up to me. My body collapsed beneath me. The world spun as my vision blurred.And just before I blacked out, I saw a girl running toward me, panic in her eyes.Funny, how a stranger looked more concerned than anyone I had spent years building a life with.…When I opened my eyes, I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Every muscle ached. My throat was raw and my skin fever-warm.“Where am I?” I croaked, turning toward the girl sitting beside my bed.“You fainted,” she said gently. “You had a high fever, but you’re stable now.”She stepped closer and removed the damp towel from my forehead, her smile soft.“And you are…?”“Just one of the girls who works the tables at your casino,” she said. “I’ve seen you around a few times. I’m Selena.”I blinked at her. She was young. Warm. Innocent.“Thank you,” I whispered. “For bringing me here.”As I looked at her kind, open face, I saw someone I hadn’t thou
That night was the first time I truly considered leaving Elliot.I loved him. But I couldn’t keep swallowing this version of love that came with humiliation and gaslighting.Still, Elliot had talked me down.He told me he loved me. that he didn’t want to create more drama by confronting his parents on a holiday, that Owen was too young to lose his mother. He made it sound noble, strategic and necessary.So I… I believed him.I was afraid—afraid to lose a family I’d spent years trying to hold together with nothing but my bare hands.And I stayed.I bit my tongue. I quieted my instincts. I even gaslit myself into believing I was overreacting. That Lila’s presence in our lives was harmless. That I needed to try harder.Eventually, I stopped defending myself at all.Because no one ever listened anyway.The past haunted me like a ghost. Every memory where I should’ve walked away but didn’t—every moment I should’ve chosen me—flooded my chest with shame and regret.And just like that, Owen’
From that day on, I was branded. A villain, a traitor, and a snake who sold out her own best friend.Even after I married Elliot and given birth to his son, that stain never washed away. And it didn’t stop there. Elliot told Owen, whispering his version of the story into our son’s ears, slowly poisoning him against me.Owen—a smart, intuitive little boy—picked it up like a sponge. He believed it.As I looked into Owen’s eyes now and saw it: only hatred. Raw. Pure. Undiluted hatred.Like I was the monster under his bed.“Bad mommy,” he said through gritted teeth. “You ruined Miss Lila’s whole life. If it weren’t for you, she’d be my mommy. Not you.”The words punched the air from my lungs. I knew he preferred Lila. But nothing could’ve prepared me for hearing those words out loud.My body trembled. “Who told you that?”He crossed his arms, little lips pressed together in a stubborn pout. “I figured it out myself. I want Miss Lila to be my mommy.”I turned to Elliot, eyes burning. Ther
On my eighth wedding anniversary, my best friend decided to send me a gift.A photo.She was draped across a sofa, a wine glass in hand, smiling like a woman who owned the world.My son, Owen, was curled up beside her.And my husband, Elliot, sat on her other side—his hand resting far too comfortably on her thigh.They looked like a happy little family.I stared at the image, then typed out two words in reply.“How perfect.”Half a hour later, Elliot stormed through the front door. His voice thundered through the hallway.“Why do you always have to be so bitchy? Always mocking people, always blaming everyone but yourself!”I didn’t flinch. Owen, my own little boy, shoved at my leg and glared. “Bad Momma,” he said. “I wish Miss Lila was my real mommy.”The ache in my chest didn’t even surprise me anymore.I walked over to the drawer, pulled out the crisp stack of papers I’d been holding onto for far too long, and dropped them on the table with a quiet finality.“Alright,” I said, my vo
On my eighth wedding anniversary, my best friend decided to send me a gift.A photo.She was draped across a sofa, a wine glass in hand, smiling like a woman who owned the world.My son, Owen, was curled up beside her.And my husband, Elliot, sat on her other side—his hand resting far too comfortably on her thigh.They looked like a happy little family.I stared at the image, then typed out two words in reply.“How perfect.”Half a hour later, Elliot stormed through the front door. His voice thundered through the hallway.“Why do you always have to be so bitchy? Always mocking people, always blaming everyone but yourself!”I didn’t flinch. Owen, my own little boy, shoved at my leg and glared. “Bad Momma,” he said. “I wish Miss Lila was my real mommy.”The ache in my chest didn’t even surprise me anymore.I walked over to the drawer, pulled out the crisp stack of papers I’d been holding onto for far too long, and dropped them on the table with a quiet finality.“Alright,” I said, my vo...
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