I'd endured those three years. I should have left the moment the contract expired.
But recently, on our seventh anniversary, I let my guard down. Under the influence of alcohol, I mistook the current John for the man who used to love me. That night resulted in a pregnancy—a child now gone, lost to his cruelty.
"I've thought it through," I said into the phone, voice steady.
I hung up just as Faith walked toward me, a cup of freshly brewed tea in her hands.
"Michelle, I'm sorry." Her voice dripped with faux sweetness. "I came to apologize."
John had many mistresses, but few were like Faith. She wasn't just passing through—she wanted the crown.
I looked at her affected expression, fighting the urge to retch. "Save your acting. You don't need to waste energy scheming against me anymore. John and I are getting a divorce."
Tears instantly welled in her eyes. "That's not what I mean..."
John, who had followed her in, saw her tears and his expression darkened. He snatched the teacup from her hand, strode over, and gripped my jaw, forcing my head back.
I stared at the steam rising from the cup, panic seizing my chest.