That day marked the eighth month of my pregnancy. I went for a check-up, and everything was just perfect with the baby Brendan and I were expecting. I couldn't wait to get home and share the good news with Brendan. He was ecstatic, not only preparing a delicious meal but also presenting me with a beautifully crafted box containing a piece of amethyst.

He wrapped his arms around me and said, "I found this on one of my geological surveys. It's exceptionally beautiful and rare, so I decided to turn it into a necklace. Amethyst is supposed to bring good luck. I hope my dear Mackenzie will have a lifetime of blessing with it." I was overwhelmed with emotion, my eyes welling up with tears.

Since then, I've worn the amethyst every single day. It's been a whole month now! Who knows if it's affecting the baby. Brendan, how could you betray me like this?

Watching them from just a few feet away, hugging and holding each other tight, I bit my lip hard as tears fell uncontrollably. Brendan had already changed from his usual business attire, looking at Violette with tender eyes.

"Violette, you're the only person I've ever truly loved."

He was once my senior, admired by many women. I secretly had a crush on him, often sneaking into the office just to catch a glimpse. Back then, he was with Violette, and they went out together all the time. It hurt, but I was the one who came late to the party, and there was nothing I could do.

Later, Violette got an offer from an international research institute with a million-dollar annual salary. She chose her career and broke up with Brendan. Only after that did Brendan suddenly reach out to me.

He said, "I know you've had feelings for me for a long time, let's be together." Even though I knew he was with me out of spite towards Violette, I still agreed. I thought I could win his heart with time. Gradually, he treated me well and often declared that I was the only one he loved. So, I believed he had genuinely fallen for me.

Brendan Cook and Violette Martinez eventually wrapped up what they were doing about twenty minutes later. During this time, I had been watching them, gripping the seat so tightly that my fingers started to bleed. Violette leaned against Brendan, catching her breath.

Suddenly, she picked up a leather-bound journal from the center console. "What's this?"

I recognized it immediately—it was the journal where I recorded all the important details. Our seventh wedding anniversary was approaching, and Brendan had promised to take me on a trip to the Alps that day. I'd been carefully planning the itinerary, noting every detail in that journal.

"This belongs to Mackenzie," Brendan said quietly.

"Aren't we supposed to go to the Alps?" she asked, flipping through the pages. "She's got all the itineraries here, free of charge. Saves us the trouble."

I froze. So that was the plan—using my journal to plan a trip with someone else. I stared at Brendan, searching for any hint of regret in his eyes. But there was nothing. Not a single trace.

Violette laughed, "Imagine if Mackenzie finds out you're doing this behind her back; she'd blow a gasket."

Brendan pinched her waist playfully and chuckled, "She'll never find out."

But I have. Brendan, I heard everything.

As the car started moving, I had no choice but to lie down to keep steady. All I could hear was their flirty banter. Brendan and I have been together for seven years. In all that time, he's been distant and closed off, the type who rarely speaks. At home, his words to me rarely exceed ten sentences. Only now do I realize that his silence was reserved just for me.

I clutched my stomach, shaking with sobs. The amethyst pressed painfully into the palm of my hand. I had loved him quietly for three years, been married for seven. A whole decade.

How do I break free?

I don't know how long I sat there, feeling the minutes stretch out endlessly, until I noticed Violette had dozed off in the passenger seat. Brendan gently nudged her awake to let her know we had arrived.

I quickly glanced out the window and realized we were in a small town.

"Violette, I'm exhausted from driving all day. Let's take the flight tomorrow," Brendan suggested.

Violette pouted playfully. "Okay, but you owe me a relaxing evening."

"Absolutely, absolutely," he replied, his handsome face filled with adoration.

Watching this scene felt like a punch to the gut. Every part of me wanted to jump out and confront them, to expose their betrayal. But what would that accomplish?

I was in unfamiliar territory, and Brendan had already shown he could be ruthless. I didn't dare imagine what he might do if he discovered me here, hiding in the shadows.

All I could do was bide my time, waiting for the right moment to come back and reveal the truth.

As Brendan and Violette checked into the hotel, I took the chance to quietly exit the car and booked a room directly across from theirs. If they left, I'd hear it.

Alone in my room, I couldn't stop replaying the day's events in my mind. After seven years, a part of me foolishly wished Brendan might still have some feelings for me. But I was sadly mistaken.

Just then, I heard voices in the hallway.

"Brendan, the starlit sky is beautiful tonight. Let's go enjoy it."

It was Violette. Through the peephole, I watched Brendan intertwine his fingers with hers.

"Sounds great," he agreed.

Once they left, I followed them to a nearby stream. There I watched as the man who was once my husband snapped pictures of another woman, entranced by her.

Under the glow of the stars and moonlight, Violette was undeniably stunning. Brendan's camera seemed to capture her every graceful move.

"Violette, you look amazing," he murmured, his voice full of enchantment.

In seven years of marriage, I had never heard him speak to me this way. Even on our wedding day, dressed in an elaborate gown, he hadn't offered me a simple compliment.

"Ha-ha," Violette laughed, playfully adjusting her dress to reveal her legs.

"Tell me, Brendan, who is more beautiful—me or Mackenzie?" she teased.

He paused, caught in her charm, then drew her close.

"You, of course," he whispered, his hands roaming freely over her.

I covered my mouth, overwhelmed by a wave of nausea and deep hurt.

This was the man I'd loved for ten years. The irony of it all was almost too much to bear.