Fractured Vows

For six years, I accepted my husband’s "muse". I told myself their connection was purely artistic, the price of being Mrs. Vanderbilt.

When I was bleeding in a hospital bed, Liam sneered over the phone, “Chloe gets pregnant, so now you’re faking an illness for attention? Pathetic.”

He dragged me from that bed to her celebration party. In front of all their friends, he shoved me. Hard.

I felt the life I fought so hard for, our child he never knew existed, drain out of me on that cold rooftop floor.

In that moment, the woman who loved him died, too.

Now, he sends flowers, begging for the wife he destroyed to come home. He doesn't understand. This isn't about a broken heart.

He has no idea he just armed his most dangerous enemy.