Adeline Campos POV:

Dorian blinked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What… what did you just say?" he asked, his voice strained.

I looked past him, at Brittny, who was watching me with a barely concealed smirk of triumph. It didn't even faze me anymore.

"I said, I' m letting you go," I repeated, my voice clear and steady now. The tremor was gone. "Go on. Be her knight in shining armor. Save her. It' s what you' ve always wanted."

I turned, my decision a solid, unshakeable weight in my gut. "Dorian, we' re done."

Then I added the words that made it real, the words that I had been too scared to say for months.

"I want a divorce."

The drive back from the station was a blur of silence and simmering rage. Not just my rage, but his. He had refused to accept it, following me out to my car, his face a mask of disbelief.

"We are not getting a divorce, Adeline," he' d said, yanking open the passenger door and sliding in before I could lock it.

Before I could protest, Brittny had quietly slipped into the back seat, an unwelcome shadow. Now, the space in my Mercedes felt contaminated, claustrophobic.

Dorian broke the silence, his voice tight with frustration. "Nothing happened between me and Brittny. I swear."

I kept my eyes fixed on the road, my knuckles white on the steering wheel.

"I was at the diner for a meeting, and she was crying," he continued, his tone pleading. "Her ex-boyfriend has been threatening her, saying he' d plant drugs in her apartment and call social services to take Cael away. He lured her to that motel, saying he wanted to talk. She got scared and called me. That' s it. The police were already there."

He was trying to make it sound noble. A heroic rescue. But all I heard was the same old story. Brittny was in trouble, and Dorian, my Dorian, had to be the one to save her.

As if on cue, a soft sob came from the back seat.

"I' m so sorry, Mrs. Warner," Brittny whimpered. "I never meant to come between you two. I would never try to steal your husband."

She paused, her voice taking on a new, saccharine tone. "But Dorian… he' s just so… good. He' s kind and protective. He reminds me of what a real man should be."

She let out a shaky sigh. "Sometimes I let myself dream… what it would be like if I wasn't a single mom with so much baggage. If I was free… I would fight for a man like him. I really would."

The air in the car thickened with her cloying perfume and even more cloying words. I felt a surge of nausea. Dorian was silent, and I knew, without even looking at him, that he was moved by her pathetic, transparent confession.

That was it.

I slammed on the brakes.

The car screeched to a halt in the middle of the street, throwing us all forward. In the rearview mirror, I saw Brittny' s eyes, wide with a flicker of fear before she composed her features back into a mask of tear-stained innocence. Dorian shot me a furious look.

I just laughed, a bitter, hollow sound.

I pressed the button to unlock the doors and rolled down the passenger-side windows. The cool evening air rushed in, but it couldn't clear the stench of betrayal.

"There," I said, my voice dripping with scorn. "I' m making it easy for you. You don' t have to sneak around anymore. Get out."

Dorian stared at me, his mouth agape. "Adeline, what are you doing?"

"I' m setting you free," I said, looking from his face to Brittny' s in the rearview mirror. "Go ahead. Fuck in a motel room. I promise I won' t have you reported this time."

The words were ugly, vile. I could feel them tearing at my own throat as I spoke them.

"Maybe you can even have a baby of your own," I added, the cruelty of the words a shield against the crushing pain in my chest. "A perfect little family."

The air was so thick with unspoken things I could barely breathe. Brittny' s face crumpled, her act finally cracking under the force of my raw, unfiltered contempt.

"You' re a horrible woman!" she shrieked, fumbling with the door handle. She scrambled out of the car, standing on the curb and glaring at me with pure hatred.

The moment her door slammed shut, Dorian turned on me.

"Are you happy now?" he snarled, his face contorted with anger. "You had to humiliate her like that? What is wrong with you, Adeline? She' s a victim in all of this!"

He made a move to get out of the car. "I have to make sure she' s okay. She has nowhere to go."

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Adeline Campos POV:

"She' s been through enough without you being so goddamn cruel," Dorian spat, his hand on the door handle. "You owe her an apology."

My wrist throbbed where he had gripped it earlier. A dull, aching pain that radiated up my arm. But it was nothing compared to the cold ache that was spreading through my chest, freezing everything in its path.

In that moment, a switch flipped inside me. It wasn't loud or dramatic. It was a quiet, final click. The part of me that still hoped, that still made excuses for him, that still loved him with the desperate loyalty of a girl who had no one else in the world-it just went silent.

"Apologize?" I asked, my voice flat. I reached over, my movements precise and deliberate, and hit the button to release his seatbelt. "Get out of my car."

"Adeline, I' m not kidding," he said, his voice low and threatening.

"I said, get out." My voice didn' t rise. It didn' t need to. The cold finality in it was enough.

He stared at me, his eyes searching my face for the woman he knew, the woman who would have broken down by now, who would have cried and fought and eventually, always, forgiven him.

She wasn' t there anymore.

"Fine," he snarled, shoving the door open with such force it shuddered on its hinges. "You want to be this way? Fine. Don' t come crying to me when you' ve had time to think about what a bitch you' ve been."

He slammed the door shut.

I didn't flinch. I just watched in the side mirror as he ran to catch up with Brittny, who was standing on the corner, looking lost and pathetic. He put his arm around her, pulling her into a comforting embrace, his head bent toward hers as he murmured what I could only assume were words of solace.

My body felt like it was being torn in two. My hands were shaking so violently I could barely grip the steering wheel. I pressed the gas pedal, the engine roaring to life.

As I drove past them, Brittny looked up. Her tear-stained face was gone. In its place was a triumphant, mocking smile. She met my eyes in the rearview mirror, a silent, vicious declaration of victory.

The days that followed were a cold hell. We were in a state of undeclared war, living in the same house but not speaking, not looking at each other. The air was thick with resentment. Our friends, Dorian' s friends really, started showing up. A coordinated effort.

"Come on, Addie," Mark said, sitting on our sofa, a beer in his hand. "He' s just got a soft spot for a sob story. It' s not like he' s sleeping with her."

"You know how Dorian is," another one, Paul, added. "He sees a stray dog, he has to take it home. He sees a struggling single mom, he has to save her. It' s about his own past, you know? He couldn' t save himself or you back then, so he' s overcompensating."

His own past. Our past.

They didn' t know the half of it. They didn' t know what it was like to be eight years old, watching your parents' car get T-boned at an intersection, and then being thrown into the system. They didn' t know the gnawing hunger, the cold nights we spent huddled together on a park bench after running away from a foster home where the father' s hands wandered.

I remembered Dorian, just a boy of ten, wrapping his skinny arms around me, his voice fierce in the dark. "I' ll get us out of here, Addie. I swear. I' ll make you a home. A real one. I' ll make you my princess, and you' ll never have to be scared again."

And he did. We built our company from nothing, from a single brilliant idea coded in our cramped apartment. He built this house for me, filled it with light and warmth and everything we never had. He called me his "little princess," his voice full of a love so vast it felt like the only solid thing in the universe.

"He' s a man, Adeline," Mark' s wife, Sarah, said, her tone condescending. "All men get distracted sometimes. You can' t just throw away a marriage over something like this. Stop being so stubborn."

It was then that I realized. This wasn' t a friendly intervention. This was a message from Dorian. This was the olive branch he was offering, through them. He expected me to take it. To be the bigger person. To forgive and forget, just like all the other times.

Something inside me hardened. No. Not this time.

The final nail in the coffin of our marriage arrived via my best friend, Jaclyn. She sent me a screenshot of Brittny Quinn' s latest social media post.

It was a picture. A close-up of two small hands holding a crayon, drawing a stick-figure family on a piece of paper. A man, a woman, and a little boy. Underneath, Brittny had written: "My Cael drew our little family. My heart is so full. He finally has the father figure he deserves."

But it wasn' t the drawing that made my blood run cold. It was the man' s hand, resting on the edge of the paper, guiding the child' s.

I knew that hand better than my own.

And on the fourth finger was the simple, platinum wedding band I had placed there ten years ago.

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Adeline Campos POV:

The pain in my chest was so sharp, so sudden, it felt like my heart had physically cracked open. It was a searing agony that quickly gave way to a frightening, spreading numbness.

Before I could even process the photo, my phone buzzed again. A new message. From Brittny.

It was a video.

My thumb trembled as I pressed play. The camera was shaky, clearly filmed in secret. It showed Dorian sitting on a sofa, my sofa, in my house. Brittny' s son, Cael, was snuggled up next to him.

"Dorian?" Cael' s small voice piped up. "Can I call you Daddy?"

My breath hitched.

"I really like you," the little boy continued, his voice cloyingly sweet. "You' re so nice and you buy me toys and you protect my mommy. I wish you were my real daddy."

He looked up at Dorian with wide, pleading eyes. "Please? Can you be my daddy?"

Brittny' s voice came from off-camera, a fake, chiding tone. "Cael, don' t bother Dorian."

Dorian, my Dorian, just smiled. He reached out and ruffled the boy' s hair. "Don' t say that, Brittny. He' s not bothering me."

He looked down at Cael, his expression melting into one of tenderness, a look I hadn' t seen directed at me in months.

"You really want me to be your dad?" he asked softly.

The boy nodded enthusiastically.

Dorian' s smile widened. "Okay then," he said, his voice clear and firm. "From now on, I' m your daddy."

The video ended with Cael' s squeal of delight. A second later, a voice message from Brittny popped up.

"He' s mine now, Adeline. A man wants a family. He wants a child. Something you could never give him. You lose."

I played the voice message again. And again. The triumphant malice in her tone was a physical thing, coiling in my stomach.

"Addie, turn it off," Jaclyn said gently, her hand on my arm. She had come over the second I called her, my voice a strangled sob. "Don' t torture yourself."

She took a deep breath. "Addie… you have to tell him. Tell him you' re pregnant. This is his child. He' ll come back. I know he will."

I instinctively placed a hand on my still-flat stomach. The secret I had been holding for six weeks, a tiny flicker of hope I had planned to share with him as a surprise, a bridge to fix our broken marriage.

But now… the thought of using my baby, our baby, as a bargaining chip to win back a man who had so thoroughly betrayed me felt like sacrilege.

I thought of my own childhood, of being an unwanted burden, a pawn in a system that didn't care. I would not bring a child into a world of conflict and brokenness. I would not subject them to a father whose heart was divided.

"He doesn' t deserve to be a father to my child, Jacs," I whispered, the words tasting like ash. "He' s not worthy."

The confrontation I had been dreading happened two days later, at the hospital. I was there for my first prenatal appointment, my heart a confusing mix of terror and a fierce, protective love for the life inside me.

As I walked out of the obstetrician' s office, clutching the grainy ultrasound photo that was my entire world, I saw him.

Dorian. He was standing by the nurses' station, and holding his hand was Cael.

Dorian' s head snapped up as I approached. He saw me, and his eyes widened. He instinctively dropped Cael' s hand, taking a step toward me.

"Addie," he said, his voice hesitant. "What are you doing here? Are you sick?"

He saw the folded paper in my hand, the logo of the obstetrics department visible. His brow furrowed in confusion, and he started to move closer.

"Daddy, my tummy hurts!" Cael suddenly cried out, clutching his stomach and doubling over in a display of dramatic agony.

Dorian stopped, torn. He looked from my pale face to the wailing child.

"Addie, just… just wait a second," he said, his voice strained. He bent down to Cael. "What' s wrong, buddy?"

I just stood there, watching the man I loved choose, once again, to comfort another woman' s child over me. The scene was so grotesquely familiar, I almost felt a hysterical laugh bubble up in my throat.

"Dorian Warner, you goddamn bastard!" Jaclyn' s voice boomed through the hallway. She had been waiting for me by the elevators and had seen the whole thing.

She stormed toward us, her face a mask of fury. "You have no idea, do you? You have no idea what she' s going through!"

She pointed a shaking finger at me. "She' s pregnant, you idiot! That' s your baby she' s carrying!"

Before the words could even register on Dorian' s shocked face, Cael reacted. The little boy, coached by his mother to see me as the enemy, launched himself forward.

"You' re a liar!" he screamed, his face twisted in a snarl that was terrifying on a child so young. "You' re a monster! You' re trying to take my daddy away!"

Jaclyn tried to step in front of me, but I pushed her aside. It happened so fast. Cael, with all the force his small body could muster, rammed his head directly into my stomach.

A universe of pain exploded inside me. It was white-hot and absolute. My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the floor, the ultrasound photo fluttering from my grasp.

The pain was a living thing, a vicious claw tearing at my insides.

"You evil witch!" Cael shrieked, kicking at my side. "I hate you! I hate you!"

People were starting to stare, murmuring amongst themselves. "Look at that woman, fighting with a little boy." "What kind of person yells at a child like that?"

I looked up, my vision swimming. I saw Dorian, standing a few feet away, his face a mixture of shock and indecision. He was just… watching. Waiting for me to yield, to admit I was wrong, to be the monster they all thought I was.

"Dorian," I choked out, a wave of dizziness washing over me. "Help me."

I could feel something warm and wet spreading beneath me.

"Please," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper. "Get a doctor."

But Cael started wailing again, louder this time. "Daddy, it hurts! My tummy really, really hurts!"

Dorian' s face twisted in agony. He looked at me, lying bleeding on the floor. He looked at the hysterical child.

And he made his choice.

"Adeline," he said, his voice cold and distant. "You need to get a grip. Look what you' ve done. You' re scaring him."

He scooped Cael into his arms, turning his back on me.

"You need to seriously think about your behavior," he said over his shoulder, and then he walked away, leaving me there on the cold, hard floor, in a spreading pool of my own blood.

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