Chapter 3

I got home, showered, and changed.

My phone lit up. A text from Wendy.

"Jess, what do you want to eat tomorrow? I'll make it for you."

"Don't worry — I definitely won't mess it up this time. After all, it's not like you have a baby to lose anymore, right?"

"No matter how much you fight back, Ethan always takes my side. Pathetic."

"If I were you, I would've asked for a divorce a long time ago."

My fingers hovered over the screen. The memories hit like a wave.

A month ago, I came down from the mountain and walked through our front door.

Wendy was sitting on the living room couch.

She was wearing my silk pajamas. Around her neck was the ruby necklace that was supposed to be mine.

Something snapped in me. I flew at her and grabbed a fistful of her hair.

I never landed a single blow. My arm was wrenched back, and Ethan's palm cracked hard across my face.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Jess!"

I hadn't even touched Wendy, and they locked me up for three days.

On the other side of the wall, every night, I could hear her.

She was doing it on purpose. Loud enough to make sure I heard every sound.

No matter how hard I pounded on the door. No matter how I screamed.

Ethan ignored it. He would change positions just to make her louder.

That was his punishment for me.

Three days. I came close to losing my mind.

When I pushed open the window and thought about stepping off the ledge, the baby moved inside me.

It was the only thing that brought me back.

I still had my baby. I wasn't going to give up.

But what I didn't expect was that the very next day after I was let out, Wendy slipped abortion pills into my breakfast.

I hemorrhaged. By the time I understood what was happening, it was already over.

The baby was gone.

I completely fell apart. I grabbed a knife and went straight to the small restaurant Wendy ran.

I destroyed the place. I stood out front and told every neighbor, every passerby exactly what she was — the other woman who'd been tearing apart a marriage.

I faced her with tears burning in my eyes and screamed, "Was it you? Why did you do this? Why did you kill my baby?"

She just stood there shaking and kept repeating:

"I didn't mean to... don't accuse me of something I didn't do."

The knife was still in my hand, not yet raised, when the police arrived and pinned me down.

Ethan showed up minutes later. He didn't look at me once. He went straight to Wendy, gathered her in his arms, and kept murmuring comfort into her hair.

He never asked her a single question about what she'd done.

When he finally looked at me, his face was full of disappointment, his eyes like ice.

"You hate her that much? You won't stop until you've completely destroyed her?"

"You can sit in a cell for a month this time. Learn some self-control."

While I was locked up, he arranged for a few of the other inmates to give me special attention.

I was beaten every day. Fresh bruises layered over old ones.

Through every blow, through every sleepless night, something inside me quietly went out.

I stopped wanting his love. I stopped wanting anything from him.

The memories faded. The taunting texts on my screen meant nothing to me anymore.

I tossed my phone aside and didn't reply.

---

I slept, and when I woke up, the smell of food was drifting through the house.

I stepped into the hallway. Wendy was sitting in Ethan's lap in the living room, holding a spoon to his lips, feeding him soup with exaggerated sweetness.

They were sharing bites, making a whole show of it.

Disgusting.

The sound of my door caught their attention.

Wendy jumped up like she'd been startled, putting on a look of wide-eyed alarm.

"Jess! We were just goofing around. Don't take it the wrong way."

Ethan watched me like he was waiting for me to explode and go for Wendy.

The old me would have upended that soup on both of them.

But my calm reaction unsettled him in a way he couldn't explain.

"You two continue. Pretend I'm not here."

I stepped around them and poured myself a glass of water.

After I finished, I turned to head back to my room.

Ethan caught my wrist. He searched my face like he was looking for something — some flicker of the emotion he expected to find.

"When did you get home last night? Why didn't you text me?"