Chapter 2

Brenna's POV

Caspian’s black Maybach drove out of the affluent neighborhood. In the rearview mirror, Eamon's brightly lit mansion grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared into the night.

I glanced at the backseat. Marnie was curled up, tears still clinging to her lashes, already fast asleep.

"That mansion... Eamon bought it entirely in cash seven years ago," Caspian said evenly, his hands steady on the wheel. "He certainly doesn't look bankrupt."

I let out a bitter laugh, acid and fury churning in my chest at the same time. "At the divorce court seven years ago, he sobbed in front of the judge, swearing that to compensate for that damn medical accident on my behalf, he liquidated all his real estate, stocks, and funds."

My voice couldn't stop shaking.

"The settlement the judge awarded me at the end was a pathetic $26.30."

$26.30. That was my entire net worth after eight years of working my fingers to the bone.

"A premeditated asset transfer," Caspian glanced at me. "Brenna, he played the role of a top-tier surgeon driven to despair, sacrificing everything for his wife perfectly. And you believed him."

I didn't argue. Because I really had believed him.

My memory dragged me back to seven years ago. In the hospital locker room, Delphina was on her knees at my feet, her face covered in blood, shaking like an injured, trampled animal. Back then, she was just a pitiful nursing assistant.

"Dr. Voss, please help me! Merrick is going to beat me to death!"

I knew of Merrick. Delphina’s thug boyfriend treated her like an ATM, hitting and kicking her at the slightest provocation. Eamon stood to the side, displaying his usual elite benevolence, his voice gentle: "She doesn't even have parents, and she works so hard in the department. We have a spare room; let her stay for a few days until things blow over."

I looked down at her trembling shoulders and nodded.

That was the beginning of the nightmare.

Not long after, my mother, Janessa, gripped my hand tightly from her hospital bed. Suffering through chemotherapy, her cloudy eyes were filled with anxiety. "Brenna, listen to your mother. Kick that woman out."

"Mom, she’s being abused. She has nowhere to go—"

"You fool! Don't you see the way she looks at Eamon? She looks at him like a predator eyeing a piece of meat! Your husband's heart is already tilting toward her!" My mother coughed violently in her agitation, her grip tightening.

I didn't take it seriously. I was too confident. Confident that Eamon and my relationship was unbreakable.

Until one late Sunday morning. Coming home from a night shift, I pushed open the door and heard thick, flirtatious laughter coming from the kitchen. I walked over and saw Eamon hugging Delphina from behind, holding her hand to cut a sirloin steak. Their heads were close together, as intimate as lovers.

"Eamon! What are you doing?!"

They finally separated. Eamon slowly and methodically wiped his hands, not looking panicked in the slightest. "Don't be neurotic, Brenna. She doesn't know how to use these knives and almost cut herself. I was just giving her a hand."

"Brenna, please don't misunderstand," Delphina bit her lower lip, eyes instantly turning red like a startled deer. "Maybe I should just move back tonight and let Merrick beat me to death..."

"Enough, Brenna! Could you stop being so bitter?!" Eamon stepped in front of her, protecting her like a master defending a pet.

From that day on, I started paying attention. They always commuted together. They shared an umbrella on rainy days. When on call, Eamon specifically asked her to be his assistant. One day, I even saw the custom tie I bought for Eamon lying quietly in Delphina's laundry basket. The stench of their affair was fermenting in my own house, suffocating me.

Everything shattered completely on a stormy, thunderous night. My mother's vitals flatlined. The doctors were inside performing emergency resuscitation. I leaned against the cold hospital wall, my trembling hands calling Eamon's number.

Once. Twice. Seventeen times. No one answered.

That night, my mother died. My husband was completely unreachable for ten straight hours.

It was not until the day after her death that he finally returned my call.

Three days later, having wrapped up every last arrangement for her funeral all on my own, I pushed open the door to my apartment, utterly numb.

Delphina was draped in my silk robe, curled at ease on the sofa watching television.

Seeing me enter, she put on a show of standing up, squeezing out a few tears, her voice soft: "Brenna, I heard about Janessa. My condolences. If there's anything I can do to help..."

"Shut up."

I walked up to her, my eyes as cold as looking at a corpse.

"Brenna, what's wrong?" She was still acting.

"I told you to shut up. Pack your things and get out of my house. Right now."