Chapter 4

Iris Marsh POV:

I remembered vividly the day Bennett convinced me to put my graphic design career on hold. "We're a team, Iris," he'd said, his eyes earnest, his hand warm in mine. "My startup needs your full support. Think of it as investing in our future. Once we hit big, you can open your own studio, paint to your heart's content."

I believed him. I always believed him. I poured my energy, my creativity, my very soul into making our home a sanctuary, into supporting his dreams. I became the perfect wife, the silent strength behind his ambition. Now, that investment felt like a cruel joke. I had no income, no savings of my own. My financial vulnerability was a gaping wound, one he had helped create.

"Don't worry," he'd promised, brushing a stray hair from my face. "You'll never have to worry about money. I'll take care of you. Always."

Always. The word tasted like ash in my mouth. I had trusted him completely. I had invested every ounce of myself into "us." And now, that trust was shattered, that investment worthless. My lack of an independent career, once a proud sacrifice, now felt like a lead weight, dragging me down. He had disarmed me, stripped me of my defenses, and then left me bleeding.

Rage, cold and pure, surged through me. I grabbed my phone, my fingers fumbling as I dialed his number. He had to explain. He had to confront this.

It rang once, twice, then he picked up. "Iris? What is it? I'm busy." His voice was sharp, impatient, utterly devoid of warmth.

"Busy?" I choked out, my voice trembling. "Busy buying diamond necklaces for your new girlfriend? The one I wanted, Bennett? The one you said was 'too extravagant' for me?"

A long, exasperated sigh came from the other end. "Cassidy, I assume? God, that woman needs to mind her own business."

"Don't you dare blame Cassidy!" My voice cracked, rising in volume. "She's my best friend! She cares about me, unlike you!"

"Care? You think that's care? Spreading rumors, making mountains out of molehills?" He scoffed. "And what does it matter what I buy? It's my money, Iris. My money from my company. I can spend it however I like."

The sheer arrogance, the casual dismissal of my entire life, hit me like a physical blow. My head throbbed, a dull ache intensifying into a sharp, piercing pain behind my eyes. I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles white.

"Our money, Bennett! We built this together! Remember? Our future, our dreams? The house we were going to buy? The family we were going to start?" My voice was desperate, pleading, clinging to the ghost of a shared past.

"Our dreams change, Iris," he said, his voice chillingly flat. "People change. I'm not the same man I was five years ago. And frankly, you're not the same woman I married."

The words sliced through me. "And what about the man who promised to never let me go? The man who promised to take care of me always?"

"That man," he said, a harsh laugh escaping him, "realized he deserved more than a perpetually tired, uninspired wife who traded her dreams for domesticity because I asked her to."

"You asked me to!" I screamed, tears streaming freely now. "I gave up everything for you! For us! And you throw it in my face with some... some twenty-something trophy girl!"

"Jayda is not a trophy!" he roared back, his voice suddenly full of fury. "And you know what, Iris? I'm tired of your hysterics. I'm tired of your endless complaints. You want to know what I'm tired of the most? You."

The word hung in the air, a poisoned dart to my soul.

"You're a liability, Iris. A drain," he continued, his voice dripping with contempt. "What exactly do you bring to the table now? Nothing. You have no job, no money, no prospects. You'd be nothing without me."

My breath hitched. "How can you say that?"

"Because it's the truth! And since you're so intent on being dramatic, let's just make it official. I want a divorce, Iris."

The phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. Divorce. The word echoed in the sudden silence of the room. It had never even been a possibility in my mind. Not for us. Not for the life I had so carefully constructed.

A cold dread seeped into my bones, worse than any betrayal. He wasn't just leaving me; he was cutting me off. The house, the joint accounts, everything we owned. He would take it all. I had no job. No money. Nothing.

The panic was suffocating, a heavy blanket pressing down on me. My chest tightened, my lungs burning. My head exploded in a fresh wave of blinding pain, so intense it made me cry out. My vision tunneled. I felt dizzy, my knees threatening to buckle.

"I need to see a doctor," I gasped, the words barely audible. This wasn't just stress anymore. This was something deeper, something terrifying. I needed real help, and I needed it now. I stumbled out of the room, clutching my pounding head, the vision of Bennett's cruel face burned behind my eyes.