Chapter 4

I first met Vincent at a charity gala.

I was a sophomore in college, interning at a marketing firm. Hearing that a major corporate investor we were courting would be at the event, I took a gamble and crashed the party to impress my boss.

I mistook Vincent for that investor and chatted him up for nearly half an hour.

I never forgot the dazzled look in his eyes when he first saw me.

We exchanged numbers that very night.

One thing led to another, and soon we were dating.

Everyone said I had hit the jackpot.

Less than a year into the relationship, Vincent proposed.

He treated me like royalty.

Expensive gifts and massive flower arrangements flooded my apartment constantly.

He wanted the whole world to know he was madly in love with me.

There were romantic getaway anniversaries, and despite his crippling fear of heights, he went skydiving just because I wanted to.

Our lavish, high-society wedding still had articles floating around online.

I never figured out exactly when his heart began to wander.

All I remember was that after we slept together one night, he looked completely bored. While lounging on the terrace talking to a buddy on the phone, he brought me up.

He said, "I'm tired of it. Married life with Serena is so dull."

"She's constantly clinging to me. It's suffocating."

He began looking for thrills outside our marriage. The women came and went in an endless rotation.

At first, I went completely hysterical.

I even tracked down his mistresses and confronted them face-to-face.

I lost my mind and smashed every dish in the house.

Then Vincent brought home a college student.

She was nineteen, youthful and innocent.

That time, he seemed genuinely infatuated. He showered her with gifts, pouring the same meticulous effort into surprising her that he had once reserved for me.

Her name was Clara. Vincent kept her fiercely protected.

She didn't even know I existed.

Until I tracked down her university campus, slapped her in front of everyone, and tore into her with every venomous word I had.

A crowd of students and professors watched as the girl broke down in tears.

On my drive home, my car was rammed.

Vincent had orchestrated it.

I was six months pregnant at the time. I was rushed into emergency surgery, clinging to life by a thread.

The baby was lost. When Vincent finally showed up at the hospital, his face was completely devoid of emotion.

"Learned your lesson yet? Cross her again, and you won't be Mrs. Hayes anymore."

Terrified that I might hurt Clara again, he shipped her off to London that very night.

My screaming and sobbing only earned me his deepest disgust.

After the miscarriage, severe depression pulled me under.

Night after night, I dreamed of the child I had lost.

In the dreams, she was a gorgeous little girl who clung to my neck, sweetly calling me Mommy.

Insomnia set in, followed by auditory hallucinations. I could hear phantom baby cries echoing down the halls.

When Vincent saw me again, this was what he walked into:

Hair tangled and wild, clutching a tattered rag doll, running barefoot through the mansion.

Not even the maids could hold me back.