Marianne's POV

It was Thanksgiving, and during dinner, someone asked everyone to share the craziest thing they’d ever done.

When it was my husband’s turn, his “Fatal Obsession,” the woman from his past, stormed in with a group of people and flipped the table over.

She then stepped on his thigh and grinned straight at me.

“The mole on your husband’s manhood, I tattooed that.”

The color drained from my face.

So that mole he never once let me touch, not even after three years of marriage, wasn’t natural at all.

The room fell into a dead silence, except for her laughter echoing through it.

“I inked it the day before your wedding,” she said, winking at me. “We even made a pact that until the scar on my collarbone healed, he couldn’t have kids with you. Looks like he really kept his word.”

Bitterness coated my tongue, tasting like the nine hundred ninety-nine bitter pills I had swallowed to prevent a child for three years.

I turned to my husband, but his face was unreadable.

In that instant, I finally understood everything.

I yanked his hand off my waist and stood up.

——

My husband, Gideon Ward, calmly patted the leg Arabella Duvall, his Fatal Obsession, had pressed against his thigh and said, “Arabella, you know Marianne isn’t like you. She takes your nonsense seriously.”

Only when she pulled her leg back did the air in the room loosen.

Then, one of his closest friends quickly tried to smooth things over. “Yeah, come on. Our Marianne isn’t like us. She can’t take jokes like that. You’d better apologize, or Gideon won’t let this slide.”

Smirking, Arabella grabbed his glass and drained it. “Why should I?”

The room froze again.

But Gideon squeezed my hand gently. “It’s a holiday. Let’s not waste it on her. Next time, I’ll make it right for you.”

Next time. Always next time.

Last Valentine’s Day, the car full of blue roses he sent me was hijacked by her and switched with lilies. I almost died from the allergy and spent three days in the ICU because of it.

He said he’d deal with her, but when I was discharged, I saw her posting photos online, bathing in petals from those very roses.

It didn't end there.

On World Children’s Day, Gideon rented out an amusement park just for me. But she cut the power, and we were stuck on the Ferris wheel for five hours.

Why was it always me who had to endure everything?

Maybe the man who once, for my sake, picked up a knife and slashed open her collarbone after she called me a whore was gone.

I gripped my glass so tightly I heard it crack.

As Gideon thought I had let it go, he told the waiter to clear the table and bring in new dishes. He even handed Arabella a fresh plate and cutlery.

She arched a brow, all casual, and asked, “Weren’t we sharing the craziest things we’ve done? I already shared mine. Who’s next?”

While people glanced at each other awkwardly, I spoke up softly. “My turn.”

Everyone exhaled, relieved, thinking the matter was finally over.

Until they saw me stand, slap her hard across the face, then pour a full glass of red wine over her head.

She froze for a second before her eyes widened and she shrieked, “Marianne! How dare you?!”

Gideon instinctively grabbed my wrist, but I tore free with a sharp jerk.

I smiled faintly and spoke over her hysteria. “This… is the craziest thing I’ve done today.”

Then I raised my phone, snapped her humiliating state, and posted it instantly.

Everyone at the table saw that her face darkened in that instant.

She clenched her teeth and screamed, “Gideon! Whatever’s between us, it’s our business. But now your wife picked the fight herself. What are you going to do about it?!”

Marianne's POV

Everyone in the city knew that Gideon and Arabella were sworn enemies. Whenever they crossed paths, it always ended in a fight.

Back in school, their battles were the stuff of legend. She once tried to poison his lunch, and he hired people to throw a sack over her head in return.

Eventually, they struck a truce that as long as neither crossed the line, they’d leave each other alone.

And yet, facing a woman like that, someone he hated so deeply, he still turned on me tonight.

“Marianne,” his voice was cold, his face stormy, “this time you went too far. Arabella was just joking. Don’t make people think we can’t take a joke. Apologize.”

A laugh bubbled up in my chest, bitter and sharp.

With a trembling voice, I said, “You forgot everything she’s done to you?”

He shot back without hesitation. “I already broke her collarbone for you. That scar is still there. What more do you want?”

His words stunned me, and for a moment, I forgot why I had once risked my life for him.

Back then, when Arabella rammed her car into his family’s vehicle, I was the one who dragged him out, even with the gas tank about to explode. He was bleeding everywhere, his strength nearly gone, yet he clung to me with all he had.

That day, he told me he hated her and how lucky and grateful he was to have me.

Now, that memory just made me feel tired.

I grabbed my bag and stood to leave, but his hand clamped around my arm, hard enough to bruise.

The sting pushed me over the edge. I yanked free and slapped him hard.

Everyone froze, except for Arabella, who looked almost entertained.

With a red handprint blooming across his cheek, he said nothing. But the fury in his silence made it clear that he was livid.

But what right did he have to be angry?

I shook the pain out of my hand, slung my bag over my shoulder, and walked out of the private room.

Behind me, voices carried.

Arabella, drying her hair with a towel, chuckled as she clapped him on the shoulder.

“Looks like the girl you broke my collarbone for isn’t so great after all.” She smirked. “But since you look so pathetic right now, I’ll cut you some slack. Go run after her before she’s gone for good. Or what, are you planning to break my collarbone again?”

For the briefest moment, I caught her eyes glistening red, just a hint. And that alone made Gideon frown.

Closing the door, I turned my back and silently counted to three.

I thought he remembered what I once told him, that no matter how angry or hurt I was, I would always wait three seconds for him to come after me.

But this time, instead of footsteps chasing me, I heard his voice.

“Arabella, about what happened back then, I’m sorry.”

My heart dropped.

I had always believed he would never, ever apologize to her. Not after everything.

She was the one who drove drunk and killed his father. She also kidnapped me and held a knife to my throat, forcing him to sign a forgiveness agreement.

Back then, she gave him two choices. Either sign the paper and save me, or kill her and lose me forever.

And Gideon, eyes bloodshot, rage uncontained, chose both. He slashed her collarbone open, shattered her knee with a kick, and still signed the agreement.

I remembered the way he spat, “If you’re still alive today, then count yourself lucky. But don’t expect me to ever show mercy again. Locking you up would be a waste of resources. One day, you’ll kneel and beg me for forgiveness.”

With her hate-filled eyes burning into him, he carried me away. That night, for the first time, he cried in front of me. He whispered “sorry” over and over, as though he’d failed me by letting her live.

But tonight, on the ride home, he didn’t call me once.

Instead, I saw his friends posting updates, sharing his interactions with Arabella.

Turned out, after I left, their atmosphere wasn’t nearly as hostile.

Marianne's POV

Maybe the truth was, they had already made peace a long time ago. And I was the only one still holding on to all of this like a fool.

With that in mind, I called my best friend, Colette Montgomery, who happened to be a lawyer, and asked her to draft a divorce agreement for me.

When she heard I wanted a divorce, she was shocked. “What did Gideon do? Did he hit you?”

“No. He treats me well,” I said quietly, then gave her a brief explanation.

The moment she learned he had forgiven his sworn enemy, she laughed in disbelief. Then she swore she’d handle the divorce papers for me.

It was supposed to be Thanksgiving, but as I walked away from the noisy gathering and came home alone, the silence felt crushing.

At four in the morning, Gideon finally stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. The moment he got into bed, he pulled me close, pressing his warm lips against mine, insistent and probing.

After three years of marriage, I knew exactly what he wanted.

His body pressed down on me as one hand fumbled toward the nightstand. His kisses left me weak until I heard the sound of a pill packet being snapped open.

In that instant, desire turned to ice in my veins.

“Be good,” he whispered. “Take the pill, and we’ll keep going.”

But I clenched my jaw and refused. I wouldn’t take another birth control pill.

Out of nowhere, Arabella’s words from earlier replayed in my head. “We even made a pact that until the scar on my collarbone healed, he couldn’t have kids with you.

My stomach turned. I shoved his drunken body off me and spat the pill he’d tried to force between my lips back out. The bitterness burned so much that it brought tears to my eyes.

I took a deep breath and said, my back to him, “Let’s get a divorce.”

But when I turned around, bracing myself, Gideon was already asleep.

His wedding ring then slipped out of his pocket and hit the floor. He probably took it off earlier while “playing games” with Arabella, so he wouldn’t scratch her with it.

I stared at it for a long moment, then slowly slid my own ring off and tucked it into the drawer of the nightstand.

The next morning, Colette sent me the completed divorce agreement. At the same time, a reminder about amusement park tickets popped up on my phone.

Last week was my birthday, but Gideon had skipped it to work late. So, he bought those tickets to make it up to me.

Usually, after a night of heavy drinking, he slept until noon. But today, he was up early, freshly showered, dressed in the new clothes I’d just bought him.

Watching him stand in front of the mirror, carefully shaving, I felt a tangle of emotions.

“Gideon, I have something to do today. About the amusement park—”

Unexpectedly, he cut me off without even looking up. “I can’t go today. I’ve got a client meeting. I’ll just cancel it and take you next week instead.”

As he said that, he scrolled casually through his phone, not noticing my face go pale.

And at that very moment, two notifications popped up on my screen.

[Your amusement park reservation has been canceled.]

[Payment confirmed! Two adult tickets for Mr. Ward at the amusement park.]

After that, he finally looked at me, and only then did he notice my silence. He cupped my face with one hand, then kissed me lightly as though that was enough.

“Don’t pout. You never used to be like this.”

Then, without even trying to coax me, he slipped on his shoes and headed for the door.

My throat tightened as I asked, “This ‘client,’ is she more important than me?”

His expression shifted, and then he gave me a dismissive smile. “Don’t talk nonsense. Everything I do is for you and for our future child.”

But after saying that, he walked out directly.

However, his backup phone lay forgotten on the sofa, the screen flashing with notifications. Most of the messages on that device were synced with his main phone.

Upon picking it up, I discovered that, apart from me, there were also two group chats pinned on his messaging app.

But after checking those, beads of sweat formed on my palm.

In one, it includes him, his friends, and me.

But in the other, everything was the same, except the woman’s name wasn’t mine.

It was Arabella.