Chapter 3

I looked down at the single line on the pregnancy test and a dry, humorless laugh escaped my lips.

Not pregnant. Thank God.

The thought was so clear, so sharp, it surprised me. There was no part of me that wanted to be tied to this man, this family, for one second longer. I was free. Or I would be, soon.

Gavyn leaned over, saw the result, and the tension in his shoulders visibly eased. He let out a long breath. "Well, that's a relief."

He tried to soften his tone, to put the mask of the caring husband back on. "Alex, your leg... we should get that looked at."

"Don't bother," I said, my voice as cold as the tile floor. I pushed past him, limping out of the bathroom.

"What's wrong with you?" he demanded, following me. "Why are you being like this? We're a family."

"Are we?" I turned to face him, the divorce papers still clutched in my hand. I held them out. "I want a divorce, Gavyn."

He stared at the papers, then at me, as if I'd spoken in a foreign language.

"And," I added, my voice steady, "I want the commercial property on Elm Street. The one you bought last year. Sign it over to me, and I'll walk away without another word."

It was a lie. The divorce agreement didn't mention the property. It was a simple, no-fault dissolution. But I needed a distraction, something for his massive ego to focus on besides the real reason I was leaving. I needed him to think I was being petty and greedy.

He looked at me, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He was finally sensing that something was truly wrong, that this wasn't just a fit of jealousy over Iliana.

"You think you can just demand things from me?" he asked, a condescending smirk playing on his lips.

"I'm not demanding," I said, using a tone I knew would provoke him. "I'm just tired of this. If you want me gone quietly, without a scene that could tarnish the great Gavyn Dunlap's reputation, then give me the shop. Or don't. I'm sure the tabloids would love to hear about your reunion with Iliana."

It worked. His pride was his greatest weakness. The idea that I, his simple, docile wife, would dare to challenge him was insulting. The idea that he could get rid of me so easily for the price of one small property was a bargain.

"Fine," he snapped, snatching a pen from the desk. He signed the papers without even reading them. "Take it. And get out of my sight. You're becoming a bigger disappointment every second."

He threw the signed papers onto the desk. I picked them up, my heart hammering with a strange mix of terror and triumph.

Step one was complete.

As I turned to leave the room, I heard the twins whispering outside the door.

"Is she leaving?" Kaelynn asked.

"Good," Kennith replied. "Then Iliana can be our mom for real. I hate this one."

I closed my eyes for a moment, gripping the signed papers tightly in my hand. Soon, kids. You'll get exactly what you wish for.

From that day on, I stopped. I stopped being the perfect wife and mother. I stopped planning Gavyn's meals, laying out his clothes, managing the household staff. I stayed in my room, nursing my injured leg and my broken heart, and I watched the perfect world Gavyn had built begin to crumble.

The house fell into chaos. The laundry piled up. The meals the chef prepared weren't to Gavyn's exacting standards. The twins refused to eat anything the housekeeper made, whining that it wasn't how "Mommy" made it.

One morning, the head housekeeper, Maria, knocked on my door, her face a mask of desperation. "Mrs. Dunlap, Mr. Dunlap has an important meeting today, and he can't decide which tie to wear with his blue suit. He's... he's thrown three of them at me."

I used to handle this every morning. I knew his wardrobe better than he did.

"The navy one with the silver stripes," I said without opening the door. "It brings out the blue in his eyes. And tell him to wear the silver cufflinks, not the gold ones."

There was a pause, then a grateful "Thank you, ma'am."

Later that day, Gavyn appeared at my door. "Why aren't you doing your duties?" he demanded. "The house is a mess. The children are miserable."

"I'm not feeling well," I replied, my voice flat. "My leg hurts. The doctor said I need to rest."

He couldn't argue with that. He grumbled something about me being useless and left. He wanted his free nanny back, his unpaid household manager. He didn't want his wife.

The chaos continued. The twins, fed a diet of takeout and the chef's fancy food they weren't used to, started getting stomachaches. They were pale and listless. Gavyn came home one evening to find Kennith throwing up in the hallway. He screamed at the housekeeper, blaming her for not taking better care of his precious son.

I listened from my room, a sense of bitter irony washing over me. For six years, I had been the invisible engine that kept this family running smoothly. I had curated their diets, managed their schedules, soothed their fevers. I had made it all look effortless. And they had never noticed. Not until I stopped.

Now, I was just counting the days. Thirty days. That's how long the divorce cooling-off period was. Thirty days until I was free.

One evening, Gavyn came to my room again. This time, his tone was different. Softer. More cunning.

"Alex," he said, sitting on the edge of my bed. "Are you still upset about Iliana?"

I didn't answer.

"I know you've probably heard some rumors," he said. "People talk. But there's nothing going on between us. She's just an old friend, and she's been a wonderful influence on the children."

He must have seen the photos from the welcome-home party, the ones I had seen on his secret blog, being circulated online. The ones where his hand was possessively on her waist.

"She tutors them, that's all," he insisted. "You're their mother, Alex. Nothing and no one will ever change that. Don't let petty jealousy cloud your judgment. It's not good for the kids to see you like this."

He was trying to gaslight me, to make me feel like the crazy, jealous wife.

The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface finally boiled over.

"You're right," I said, my voice shaking with a rage I hadn't let myself feel until now. "It's not good for them. So maybe I should just stop being their mother altogether."

I looked him straight in the eye. "Maybe I just don't want them anymore."