I turned to Johnson, muttering a quick apology before heading out the door.

Brandon's voice followed me, full of anger. "Sylvia, I've had it with you! You've got a problem with everything Jen does. If you can't deal with her, maybe we should just get a divorce!"

That caught me off guard for a second, but I quickly shrugged it off.

We'd been married five years, and in all that time, he never once made our relationship public. Now, just to make me back down to Jenna, he was finally admitting it.

I stared at his face, handsome but distorted with fury, and nodded. "Alright. Let's get divorced."

Without another word, I walked out.

After leaving the hotel, I called my divorce lawyer. Mid-conversation, a sudden blinding light flashed in front of me. A car was speeding straight toward me, out of control. Panic shot through me, my legs went weak, and I stumbled backward.

Just when I thought it was over, the driver slammed the brakes, swerved, and sped off. I was left sitting on the ground, shaken.

A girl passing by rushed over to help me. Her hand barely touched my waist when she gasped. "Oh my God! You're bleeding so much!"

I looked down in a daze, finally noticing the large pool of blood spreading around me.

At the hospital, the doctor asked me to contact a family member. I clutched my phone, staring at Brandon's number for a long moment, before deciding to call my lawyer instead.

I couldn't forget the license plate on that car--it was the same as Brandon's. We'd chosen that number together.

I stayed in the hospital until noon the next day. While I was there, Brandon sent me one message: Jen's ceiling is leaking, so I'm taking her back to our place.

I knew right away it wasn't from him--it had Jenna's fingerprints all over it.

When I got home, the door code didn't work. As I was about to try again, the door opened from the inside. Jenna stood there in my apron, smiling brightly. "Sylvia, you're finally home! The old code was too hard for me to remember, so Brandon changed it to my birthday. Come in, I'll get you some water!"

She welcomed me like she owned the place.

The smell of food drifted in from the kitchen. She ran to the doorway and called out, "Brandon, Sylvia's back!"

Brandon stepped out, wearing the same couple's apron I'd bought for him. He used to say it was too childish and refused to wear it. Now that I saw him in it, I thought he looked ridiculous.