The Bottom Line: His Suffering

My husband Gabriel's affair with his young protégée, Kaia, had already cost me everything. Our marriage was a hollow shell, and his cruelty had even led to the miscarriage of our child, leaving me broken.

But the day he defended Kaia by slapping my ten-year-old niece, Bea, so hard he ruptured her eardrum, something inside me finally snapped for good.

He stood over her small, unconscious body and screamed, "She deserved it!"

He had already financially ruined my brother and now had brutalized a child-all to protect his mistress.

The man I had loved for sixteen years was a monster.

All the pain and grief I'd carried for so long burned away, leaving only cold, hard resolve.

He expected tears. He expected hysterics. Instead, when I found him at the hospital, I walked straight up to him and slapped him across the face. "My family is my bottom line, Gabriel," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "You crossed it. And now, I will make you suffer."

Chapter 1

My stomach was a hollow ache, familiar and cold, a constant reminder of Gabriel' s absence. It wasn' t just a few nights or a business trip anymore; it was a ghost in our bed, an empty space at the dinner table. He was gone, absorbed by... other things. And I was tired of feeling this dull throb of abandonment.

I' d tried everything the therapists suggested. Journaling. Meditation. Even those ridiculous scented candles that promised inner peace. Nothing worked. The emptiness just grew. So, I decided to try something different. Something radical.

I found him through a discreet agency, one that specialized in... bespoke experiences. His name was Leo. He wasn' t Gabriel. Not truly. But he was close enough to fool my weary mind for a few hours. He had Gabriel' s height, the same dark, brooding eyes, even the slight stubble Gabriel always forgot to shave.

"The usual script tonight, Allison?" Leo asked, his voice a low rumble, surprisingly close to Gabriel' s. He stood in the doorway of our (my) master bedroom, a faint scent of the cologne Gabriel preferred clinging to him. It was unsettling, this perfect mimicry.

"Yes," I said, my voice thin. "Just... like he used to be."

He nodded, stepping inside. The room felt heavy with expectation. We moved through the motions like dancers in a morbid ballet. He sat on the edge of the bed, just as Gabriel would. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit I knew so well.

"Another late night, sweetheart?" I asked, forcing the question out, forcing the hope into my tone. It was a line from our past, a decade ago, when those late nights were rare, and his return was a comfort.

Leo sighed. "Work, Allison. You know how it is."

It was Gabriel' s dismissive tone, the one that meant 'don' t ask, don' t pry.' My heart, despite itself, tightened. This was the part where my old self would try to push, to reason, to beg for a sliver of his attention. But I had to play it through.

"Is everything okay with the project?" I pressed, my voice a forced calm. My fingers twitched, wanting to reach out, wanting to shake him.

Leo stood up, walking to the window. He looked out at the city lights, his back to me. Just like Gabriel. "It' s fine. Just... complicated."

"Complicated how?" I asked. The air in the room grew thick. This was it. The real test. The moment the old wound would be reopened.

He turned, his eyes holding that familiar distant look. "Look, Allison. You worry too much. Kaia is a junior architect. She' s young, she' s enthusiastic. She needs guidance."

My breath hitched. Kaia. Even in this twisted simulation, her name was a dagger.

"Guidance?" I heard my voice, sharp and unfamiliar. "Is that what you call it, Gabriel?"

Leo' s eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation, perfectly copying Gabriel' s. "Don' t start, Allison. I' m tired. I don' t need your accusations right now."

The old Gabriel, cold and dismissive. This wasn' t just a memory; it was a re-enactment of every gut-wrenching argument.

"Accusations?" I laughed, a brittle, humorless sound. "Is it an accusation to see what' s right in front of me? The late nights, the 'guidance,' the way you practically glow when you talk about her, even in front of me?"

He slammed his hand on the dresser. The sound echoed, making me flinch despite myself. "You' re being irrational! She' s an employee. Nothing more. Don' t you dare disrespect her, or me, with your baseless paranoia."

"Baseless?" My voice rose, cracking. "So, the dinner receipts aren' t real? The texts aren' t real? The whispered calls aren' t real?"

Leo stepped closer, his face a mask of controlled fury, Gabriel' s signature move before he' d unleash. "You' ve been spying on me? You' ve sunk that low?"

"I' m trying to save our marriage!" I yelled, the words tumbling out, raw and desperate, just like they used to.

He let out a harsh laugh. "Save it? You' re destroying it with your hysterics! Maybe if you weren' t so... demanding, so suspicious, I wouldn' t need a moment' s peace outside this stifling house!"

My chest burned. The familiar sting of injustice, the twisting knot of humiliation. He was blaming me. For his choices. For his betrayal.

"You think this is my fault?" I whispered, the rage a cold fire in my veins. "You think I drove you into another woman' s arms?"

He scoffed. "You' re exhausting, Allison. Always have been. Kaia... she just understands. She' s not constantly questioning me, pulling me down."

My hands curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. This was the exact monologue Gabriel gave me a year ago, the night I found a diamond earring that wasn' t mine. The words were identical. The pain was just as real.

"So, she' s your escape, your fresh start?" I challenged, my voice shaking. "Is that what she is? A way out?"

Leo' s eyes hardened. "She' s a breath of fresh air. Something you haven' t been in a long time." He paused, then added, his voice dripping with condescension, "And if you keep pushing this, Allison, you' ll lose more than just my affection. You' ll lose everything."

The threat was clear. Financial ruin. Social exile. The complete dismantling of the life we' d built together. This wasn' t simulation anymore; it was my past, present, and terrifying future compressed into one cruel moment. My blood ran cold, then hot.

I wanted to scream. To break something. To shatter the mirror of this agonizing truth. But something in me snapped. Not in anger, but in a strange, chilling clarity. I was tired. So tired.

"Alright," I said, my voice eerily calm, the fury replaced by a profound emptiness. "Enough of that. Tonight, let' s do the other script, Leo."

He blinked, thrown off by my sudden shift. "The... the other one?"

"Yes," I said, walking towards the closet, pulling out a silk nightgown. "The 'loving husband returns home, tired but happy to be with his wife' script. The one where he tells me he loves me, that he chose me, that our future is bright."

Leo hesitated, then sighed. "Alright, Allison."

He moved to the bed, sitting, watching me. I changed, my movements slow, deliberate. We played out the charade. He pulled me close, kissed my forehead, murmured platitudes about how lucky he was. His arms felt like Gabriel' s, the scent of his cologne identical. My body responded out of habit, or perhaps, out of a desperate, primal need for contact. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine it was real. Trying to feel a flicker of the love I once believed in.

But all I felt was the chilling void. This was my life. A hollow echo of a love that was long dead, propped up by a paid actor. I saw it stretching out before me, decades of this charade, until I withered into a lonely, bitter shell.

A sharp, painful clarity pierced through the fog. This wasn't love. This was a prison of my own making, reinforced by a man who had long ago stopped seeing me. The weight of it, the utter pointlessness, settled in my bones.

I would not live like this. Not one more day.

The doorbell rang, a jarring, real sound in our staged drama. Leo pulled away, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.

I walked to the door, my heart strangely calm. Gabriel stood there, in the flesh, looking tired, a faint scent of Kaia' s perfume clinging to his shirt.

"Allison?" he said, his eyes scanning my face, searching for the familiar hysteria.

But there was none. Just a vast, quiet space.

"Gabriel," I replied, my voice steady. "You' re home."

He looked past me, his gaze landing on Leo, who was still standing by the bed, looking uncomfortable. Gabriel' s eyes narrowed.

"Who is this?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

I turned back to Leo. "Thank you, Leo. You can go now."

Leo nodded, picked up his bag, and slipped past Gabriel, offering a quick, apologetic glance.

Gabriel stepped inside, his eyes fixed on me. "What the hell was that, Allison?"

"Just... a bit of role-play," I said, shrugging. "You were never here, so I hired someone to fill the void. He was very good."

Gabriel' s face contorted, a mixture of anger and disbelief. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

Just then, another figure appeared behind him. Kaia. Her blonde hair fell perfectly over her shoulders, her eyes wide and innocent, just as I' d seen in a hundred photographs.

"Gabriel? Is everything okay?" she asked, her voice a soft, concerned whisper.

I met her gaze, a small, knowing smile playing on my lips. "Oh, it' s perfectly fine, Kaia," I said, stepping aside, gesturing for her to enter. "Come in. You must be hungry, both of you. I was just about to make some dinner."

Gabriel stared at me, dumbfounded. Kaia looked from him to me, a flicker of uncertainty in her innocent eyes. My composure was unbreakable. The fire had gone out. All that remained was cold, hard resolve.

"Come in," I repeated, my voice even, unyielding. "There' s plenty for everyone."

This new Allison felt... exhilarating. And terrifying.

Allison POV:

Gabriel stood frozen, Kaia hovering behind him, her innocent facade wavering. It was a stark contrast to the screaming matches, the hurled accusations, the furious tears that used to define these encounters. My calmness was a weapon, and it unsettled them both.

"Dinner?" Gabriel finally managed, his voice strained. "Allison, what is going on?"

I walked past them, into the kitchen, the scent of fresh bread and simmering stew already filling the air. "What' s going on, Gabriel, is that you' ve finally decided to come home. And Kaia," I glanced over my shoulder, meeting her surprised gaze, "is here. So, we' ll have a meal."

Kaia looked at Gabriel, then back at me, her blonde head tilted. "Mrs. Kaufman, I can just... I can go. I wouldn' t want to intrude."

The politeness was a thin veneer, barely concealing the triumph in her eyes. She thought she had won. They both did.

"Nonsense," I said smoothly, reaching for a third plate. "You' re here now. And Gabriel brought you. He always takes care of his people, doesn' t he, darling?" My eyes flickered to Gabriel. The corner of his mouth twitched, a muscle in his jaw clenching. He was utterly confused. Good.

We sat at the dining table, a bizarre tableau. Gabriel, stiff and silent. Kaia, picking at her food, occasionally glancing at me with a mixture of fear and curiosity. And me, eating with a calm I hadn't felt in years.

"So, Kaia," I said, breaking the strained silence, "Gabriel tells me you' re an incredibly talented junior architect. He' s often praised your eye for detail."

Kaia' s cheeks flushed. "Oh, um, thank you, Mrs. Kaufman. I just try my best."

Gabriel cleared his throat. "Allison, can we talk? Privately?"

I put down my fork. "Is there something you wish to discuss that Kaia shouldn' t hear? Surely, as a valued member of your team, and apparently, your personal life, she should be privy to all important conversations, shouldn' t she?"

His eyes flashed, but he bit back his retort. He was trapped.

"Allison," he said, his voice dropping, a forced tenderness. "About... about everything. I know things have been difficult. And I want to make it right."

"Make what right, Gabriel?" I asked, meeting his gaze. "The years of neglect? The public humiliation? The countless times you chose her over me?"

"I... I didn' t choose her," he stammered. "She' s just... she needed me. And you were so... angry."

Kaia coughed delicately. "Gabriel, maybe we should just leave..."

"No!" Gabriel snapped, then softened his tone for Kaia. "It' s fine, Kaia. Allison just needs to understand." He turned back to me, his gaze pleading. "Allison, you know how much our family means to me. Our shared history. Everything we built."

"Yes, I do," I said, my voice flat. "And what about our future, Gabriel? Is Kaia a part of that too?"

He hesitated, looking from me to Kaia. "Kaia is... she' s an important part of our company' s future. She' s indispensable."

My lips thinned. "I see. Indispensable. So much so that she needs to wear my things now?" My gaze dropped to Kaia' s wrist. She was wearing the delicate pearl bracelet Gabriel had given me on our tenth anniversary. My stomach clenched, but I kept my face impassive.

Kaia' s eyes widened. She quickly tucked her hand under the table. Gabriel' s face went rigid.

"Allison, don' t be ridiculous," he growled. "It' s just a bracelet. Kaia admired it. I offered it to her."

He had offered it to her. The symbol of our decade together. It was a tangible severing.

"Of course," I said, nodding slowly. "How thoughtless of me. She should have it. In fact..." I pushed my chair back and stood up. "There' s a matching necklace. A sentimental piece. Our first Christmas together. Would you like that too, Kaia?" My voice was sweet, but my eyes were ice.

Kaia looked horrified. "No! No, Mrs. Kaufman, I couldn' t possibly..."

"Nonsense," Gabriel cut in, his voice firm, trying to take control. "Allison, if you' re offering, Kaia should accept. It' s a gesture of... goodwill."

I walked to my dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out the delicate silver chain, the tiny star pendant glinting under the light. Our first Christmas, when we were struggling, building our first small development. That star represented a promise, a dream we shared. Now, it was just a piece of metal.

I walked back to the table, holding it out to Gabriel. His eyes flickered, a hint of something unreadable there. Was it regret? Shame? I watched him take it from my hand. It was an invisible parting, a silent goodbye to a lifetime of memories.

"Thank you, Allison," Gabriel said, his voice surprisingly soft. He handed it to Kaia, who took it as if it were a venomous snake, her face pale.

"You' re... so calm," Gabriel said, his confusion palpable. "I expected... more."

I looked at him, truly looked at him. My past self would have been screaming, crying, begging him to see what he was doing. My past self would have been clawing at him, demanding explanations, tearing down his mistress. But what good had that ever done? It only solidified his narrative that I was the hysterical wife, the inconvenient obstacle.

I remembered the early days. The countless arguments over Kaia. Gabriel' s initial apologies, his promises. "It was a mistake, Allison. A momentary lapse. She means nothing. You' re my wife. My partner." Lies.

He' d slowly, imperceptibly, pulled away. The shared laughter disappeared. The late-night talks became silent voids. He was there, but he wasn' t. He was a ghost, haunting our home, his heart somewhere else. The colder he grew, the harder I fought. I begged, I reasoned, I tried to rekindle the flame that had long since died for him. I became the caricature he painted: the desperate, angry wife.

My mother-in-law, bless her heart, had tried to intervene. She saw through Kaia' s innocent facade. But Kaia was a master manipulator. A few well-timed tears, a story of an overbearing boss, a whispered accusation of my own instability. Gabriel, blinded, always took her side.

My lowest point? The charity gala. I' d walked in, head held high, only to see Gabriel and Kaia on the dance floor, her hand resting on his chest, her eyes adoring. I' d made a scene. A public, humiliating scene. And Gabriel, in a fit of rage, had come home and systematically destroyed my art studio, the one place I found solace. He smashed canvases, ripped paintings, threw my sculptures to the floor.

"This is what you get, Allison!" he' d screamed, his face contorted with fury. "This is what happens when you embarrass me! You think your little hobby matters more than my reputation?"

He called me a selfish bitch, a talentless hack. I' d curled up on the floor amidst the wreckage, shattered more than the pottery. That night, something broke inside me. The fight left. The despair set in.

I retreated, a ghost in my own life. I lost weight. I barely slept. The world became dull, muted. Then, a miracle. A tiny flicker of hope in the darkness. I was pregnant.

A baby. A piece of me, a piece of us. A chance at a new beginning. I clung to that hope, terrified but fiercely protective. I imagined a life where this child would heal us, bring Gabriel back to the man I once loved.

One evening, he brought Kaia home again. She claimed she was feeling unwell, a sudden migraine. Gabriel, ever the White Knight, insisted she stay. I watched them, a silent fury simmering beneath my calm. I brought her tea, a specific blend I knew she preferred. She tasted it, then suddenly clutched her throat, gasping for air.

Panic. Gabriel rushed to her side, his face pale with fear. "What did you do, Allison?!" he yelled, his eyes blazing.

"Nothing!" I cried, genuinely bewildered. "It' s just chamomile tea!"

He didn' t listen. He dragged me to the kitchen, his grip bruising my arm. On the counter was an open packet of peanuts, a snack I sometimes kept for Arnulfo. Kaia was severely allergic to peanuts.

"You tried to poison her!" he accused, his voice shaking with a rage I' d never seen before, even when he destroyed my studio. "You tried to hurt her baby!"

I was stunned. "Her... baby? Gabriel, I swear, I didn' t..."

He didn' t let me finish. He grabbed a handful of peanuts. Before I could react, he shoved them into my mouth, forcing them down my throat. "If she suffers, you suffer too, Allison!" he screamed.

My throat closed. My vision blurred. A searing pain erupted in my abdomen. I collapsed, gasping for air, the world spinning. My last conscious thought was the excruciating cramp, the warm gush between my legs.

When I woke, I was in a hospital bed. The doctor' s face was grim. "I' m so sorry, Mrs. Kaufman. You' ve had a miscarriage."

The words echoed in the sterile room, flat and lifeless. My baby. Our baby. Gone. Because of him. Because of Kaia.

Gabriel came in later, his face strained, a performative sorrow in his eyes. "Allison, I' m so sorry. I didn' t mean for this to happen. I thought... I thought you were trying to hurt Kaia. She said you threatened her child..."

I just stared at him, numb. He left me then, in the sterile white room, the tears finally coming, silent and endless. My body was a battlefield, ravaged and empty. He returned hours later, smelling of Kaia' s perfume, holding a bouquet of white lilies. He sat beside my bed, holding my hand, playing the dutiful husband for the nurses.

"It' s going to be okay, Allison," he whispered, patting my hand. "We' ll get through this."

He then got up, walked to the bathroom, and ran a bath for me. "You need to clean up," he said, his voice flat. He helped me into the tub, the warm water a brief comfort against the searing pain in my heart and body. He left me there, the water slowly cooling around my broken body, just as he had left me in every other way that mattered.

Allison POV:

The lukewarm water in the bathtub felt like a shroud, clinging to my skin as if to remind me of the emptiness inside. Gabriel had left me there, just as he had left me in every other way imaginable. Minutes stretched into hours, the silence of the large house pressing down on me. My body throbbed with a dull ache, a constant echo of the life that had been snatched away.

He returned briefly, sometime later. He brought me a glass of water, his face a mask of weary concern. "Are you feeling any better, Allison?"

I just nodded, my voice gone. He lingered for a moment, then his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and a flicker of something, urgency, crossed his face. "I have to go," he said, his voice clipped. "Kaia... she needs me."

And just like that, he was gone again. The door clicked shut, leaving me in the cold silence of the large, empty bathroom. I lay there, too weak to move, too heartbroken to care. The physical pain was a dull throb, but the emotional agony was a gaping wound. My body grew stiff, my muscles seizing. I couldn' t even lift my hand to call for help.

When the nurse finally found me, hours later, I was shivering uncontrollably, my lips blue. She helped me out, her face etched with concern. She gave me painkillers, wrapped me in warm blankets, and sat by my side.

"Your husband said he' d be back soon," she offered gently.

I just closed my eyes. He wouldn' t. He hadn't bothered to stay even a moment when my body was still reeling from the trauma he caused.

The next morning, the nurses decided I needed more comprehensive care. They transferred me to a different hospital wing, one with better facilities for post-operative recovery.

We were in the elevator, the nurse pushing my wheelchair, when the doors opened on the third floor. And there he was. Gabriel. His arm was around Kaia' s waist, his head bent, murmuring something to her. She giggled, a bright, carefree sound that shredded my last nerve. She was wearing a flimsy silk nightgown, a delicate, pale blue one that I recognized instantly. It was my favorite, a gift from Gabriel on our honeymoon.

My stomach lurched. The pain, physical and emotional, was a tidal wave. They looked up, saw me. Gabriel' s smile faltered. Kaia' s eyes widened, then quickly narrowed as she recognized the nightgown on herself, then on my face.

"Allison," Gabriel said, his voice flat. He pulled Kaia closer, as if to shield her from my gaze.

Kaia leaned into him, her hand touching his chest. It was a public display of ownership, a deliberate barb. My heart, which I thought had nothing left to give, twisted in agony. A sharp, searing pain tore through me, like a thousand tiny needles piercing my flesh. I felt lightheaded, a deep, hollow ache in my chest. It felt like my very essence was being ripped from my body, leaving behind a gaping, bleeding void.

The nurse, seeing my ashen face, quickly pushed the wheelchair past them, muttering, "Excuse us."

"I' m so sorry, Mrs. Kaufman," the nurse whispered, her hand briefly touching my shoulder. "I didn' t know..."

"It' s not your fault," I managed to say, my voice hoarse. My eyes were fixed on the rearview mirror of my soul. I had watched him, the man I loved, choose her, protect her, cherish her, right in front of me, after he had just murdered our child and left me bleeding. He had seen my pain, my humiliation, my brokenness, and chosen to display his infidelity even more brazenly. The last shred of trust, of hope, of any emotional connection, was gone. It was a clean break, brutal and final.

Later that day, Gabriel visited. He still wore the facade of a concerned husband. "Allison, I' m so sorry about... everything," he said, his eyes avoiding mine. "But you need to understand. Kaia... she' s very sensitive. And your behavior... it' s been erratic. You need to focus on getting better."

I just stared at him. He was still spinning the narrative. Still blaming me. Still protecting her.

"By the way," he continued, his tone shifting, "that person downstairs, the one you hired... Leo. What was that all about? I saw him leaving your room the other night."

I almost smiled. "Oh, Leo. Yes. He' s a professional stand-in. I needed someone to... fill a certain role."

Gabriel' s jaw tightened. "A role? What kind of role, Allison?"

"Your role, Gabriel. The one you' d abandoned." I said it calmly, matter-of-factly, watching his face. There was no jealousy, no anger this time. Just a vacant look. He didn' t care. Not about who I brought into our home, not about what I did to cope.

He nodded slowly. "I see." He paused, then stood. "I have to go. Kaia needs me at the office."

He left. Just like that. The perfect husband facade dropped the moment he realized I was no longer a threat, no longer clinging to him.

I later learned he' d whisked Kaia away to an extravagant retreat, parading her as his partner, introducing her to his high-society contacts. He was investing heavily in her, grooming her to be the face of their future, not just professionally, but personally. He was pouring money into her career, her wardrobe, her social standing. He was building her up, just as he'd torn me down.

But he didn't know. He didn't know about the quiet transfers I' d made over the years. The hidden accounts. The assets I' d meticulously secured, piece by piece, under the radar. My mind, sharp and strategic, had been working long before my heart finally broke.

Kaia, for a while, reveled in her new-found glory. She was everywhere, draped in designer clothes, her face plastered across society pages. She was the rising star, the new darling of the real estate development scene. Until the whispers started. Whispers about her lavish spending. Whispers about the company' s mysteriously dwindling funds. Whispers that turned into shouts when a major charity event she was fronting collapsed due to a colossal financial miscalculation. She was publicly humiliated, exposed as a social climber with no real business acumen, just a pretty face and Gabriel' s money.

She ran to Gabriel, sobbing, pleading. He was furious, not at her incompetence, but at the public scandal. He blamed me, of course. For not being there to "guide" him. For making him vulnerable.

His retaliation was swift and brutal. He used his connections to have me involuntarily committed to a psychiatric facility. "For observation," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "For your own good, Allison. You' re clearly unstable."

They drugged me. They isolated me. They tried to break me. But in the quiet, padded room, my mind, sharp and clear, plotted.

When he finally came to "visit" me, after weeks of forced isolation and a cocktail of sedatives, he looked triumphant. "Feeling better, Allison?" he asked, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe now you' ll learn your lesson. Kaia needed my protection. You tried to ruin her."

"You threw away our child," I said, my voice raspy, but steady. "You tried to destroy me. All for her."

He shrugged. "She' s young. She makes mistakes. You... you' re just bitter."

"Bitter?" A cold, hard laugh escaped my lips. "Gabriel, she tried to replace me. She attacked Bea. She' s a manipulative, venomous snake."

His eyes narrowed. "Don' t you dare, Allison. Kaia is a good person. She' s just... misunderstood. And you' re just jealous." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "If you ever try to hurt her again, I will make sure you disappear. Permanently."

"Why, Gabriel?" I asked, my voice flat. "Why her? Why did you throw away everything we built? Everything we were?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Allison, you were... comfortable. Predictable. Kaia... she' s exciting. She makes me feel alive."

It was the oldest cliché, spoken with practiced ease. My heart, or what was left of it, felt nothing. No pain, no anger. Just a profound weariness. His words were just noise now. Empty, meaningless noise.

"I want a divorce," I said, the words cutting through the sterile air. "I want to separate our assets. Officially."

He looked startled. "A divorce? Allison, don' t be foolish. We have too much tied up together. Our company. Our reputation."

"I don' t care about any of that anymore, Gabriel," I said, my voice gaining strength. "I want out. And I want what' s mine."

The game was over. The rules had changed. And he had no idea what was coming.