Death on the Wedding AnniversaryChapter 1
"You'll need a kidney transplant soon, or your body won't last much longer."
The doctor was handsome, but he didn't know how to break bad news.
I guess not many people are as unlucky as I am.
I came home holding the diagnosis. The first thing I saw were two pairs of shoes by the entrance, one man's and one woman's.
Yep, that jerk brought another woman home again.
I kicked aside the woman's heels and walked to the bedroom door, listening for a moment. The sounds coming from inside were pretty intense.
That jerk's bedroom skills had definitely leveled up. No surprise given all the practice he'd had these past couple of years.
They say money makes men bad, and it sure seemed true here.
I planned to take a shower, but my stomach churned. I collapsed against the door.
The overpowering scent of perfume hit me.
Even through the chaos, I found myself admiring the man's body. After two weeks apart, I had to admit it still looked good.
He was lean in clothes but muscular underneath, with perfect features and long legs, exactly my type.
Back in high school, he'd strum a guitar, and I fell for him like an idiot.
The mistress shrieked and threw herself into his arms, terrified.
He turned around and saw me watching. With a smirk, he scooped her up in a princess carry and threw her onto the bed, nuzzling her.
If I weren't the scorned wife, this scene would look like something out of a romance drama.
From high school to the wedding aisle, I'd given my youth to this jerk.
We'd been married for five years, and he'd been cheating since year three.
It started subtly. Eventually, he didn't even bother hiding it. He brought his mistresses to our bed.
At first, I cried, yelled, and even considered suicide. In my rage, I clawed his face until it bled, but he never argued back or fought me. He just refused to change. Eventually, he stopped pretending to care.
I decided to get a divorce, but that sly man had planned his every move.
If I really left, I'd be an almost-thirty woman, and everything I'd worked for over the years wouldn't be mine anymore.
Easton would still elegantly pinch my chin, mocking me with veiled threats. He said if I quit my job and became the perfect housewife, he wouldn't mind rewarding me with a limited-edition black card.
There were times I couldn't believe that Easton could say such things.