After ninety-nine hurts, my husband deeply regretted it.

My personal videos were deliberately leaked and blasted all over the headlines.

Overnight, I became public property.

To protect his reputation, my husband told me to suck it up and sign an NDA.

Every word out of his mouth pushed me lower, like my dignity was just another bargaining chip.

He thought money, apologies, and his clout could wipe the slate clean.

He also thought that because I loved him, I’d stay—

just like I’d put up with the ninety-eight humiliations before.

What he never noticed was this:

he only ever got ninety-nine chances.