Steam hissed into the quiet room as I pressed the iron over the pristine white fabric. I was preparing the lab coat Alex Delgado was scheduled to wear the next morning.

Then the front door clicked open. He walked in, bringing with him the sharp tang of hospital antiseptic layered over the cloying sweetness of a woman's perfume.

"She's pregnant."

His voice was calm, clinical. He might as well have been discussing a tumor or a fractured rib.

"Yolanda is an orphan," he continued, loosening his tie. "She needs me."

My hand froze mid-air. The steam curled up, blurring my vision.

A memory forced its way to the surface—the night I burned with a forty-degree fever. He had sat by my bedside, cooling my forehead with a damp towel, his eyes tender. In this life, I'll only take care of you, Lexi. No one else.

"Then what about me?" My voice was so faint it barely disturbed the air.

He frowned, impatience flickering across his face. "Lexi, you know the pressure I'm under at the hospital. Yolanda understands my ambitions. She supports me."

I didn't answer. I simply stopped fighting the gravity of my own exhaustion.

I let the heavy iron drop.

It landed flat against the chest of the white lab coat. A sharp hiss filled the silence as heat seared into fabric. Smoke rose, carrying the acrid smell of burnt cotton. I watched the brown scorch mark spread like a cancer, burning a hole right through the left breast pocket—right where his heart should have been.

I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I turned off the iron, walked past him into the bedroom, and stared at the ceiling until dawn.

Before I left the next morning, I placed the divorce agreement and my wedding ring on the entryway console. Beside them, I left the ruined lab coat. On the unburnt fabric, in my neatest handwriting, I left a final diagnosis:

Dr. Delgado, consider your patient, Alex Henson, permanently discharged.

——

I boarded the first flight to Seaside City.

For ten years, I had carved away pieces of myself to fit into the mold of Alex Delgado's perfect wife. I had given too much.

Silver Beach had always been on my bucket list. Every time I mentioned it, he brushed it off. Too busy. The hospital needed him. I just had to wait.

Wait, wait, and wait again.

I looked out the plane window at the billowing clouds. I was done waiting. From now on, I would be the bird soaring past the glass, living only for myself.

The moment I landed and turned off airplane mode, my phone vibrated violently. Thirty messages from Alex Delgado flooded the screen.

Alex Henson, are you seriously making a scene about divorce just because Yolanda is pregnant?

How can you be so selfish? You know I'm up for a promotion to Chief. You just can't stand to see me succeed, can you?

What I have with Yolanda is a responsibility. She has no one. Do you want me to be the kind of man who abandons a vulnerable woman? Why can't you understand me?

Where are you? Why is your location off?

Alex Henson, what the hell did you say to Yolanda before you left? She's spotting now. If she loses this baby, it's on you.

You vindictive woman—if you leave now, don't you dare come crawling back!

The barrage of narcissism filled the chat window. In ten years of marriage, he had never texted me this much. And every single message was an accusation, every word revolving around Yolanda.

I didn't bother to reply. I blocked his number, powered down my phone, and vanished into the vibrant streets of Seaside City.

For half a month, I lived. I felt the sun on my skin and the salt in my hair. When I finally felt like myself again, I moved to a quiet coastal town nearby and rented a small space. I opened an art studio, returning to the painting career I had abandoned for his sake.

I thought Alex Delgado was history.

I was wrong.

One morning, as I unlocked the glass doors of my studio, a shadow fell over me. A man stood by the entrance, looking out of place in his tailored suit.

He moved fast, catching my arm before I could step inside. His grip was tight.

"Why did you block me?" he demanded, staring down at me. "Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you?"

I wrenched my arm free. "Mr. Delgado, we are divorced. Have some dignity."

He blinked, taking a step back as if I had slapped him.

He hadn't expected this. He was used to the old Alex Henson—the docile wife who anticipated his every whim. He wasn't ready for the stranger standing before him now.

He hesitated, adjusting his stance. When he spoke again, he pitched his voice lower, adopting that gentle, persuasive tone he used on difficult patients.

"Lexi, look, I know you're still sulking. But you need to be reasonable. Yolanda is different from you. She's fragile. She can't live without me."

He took a breath, delivering his next words with sickening confidence.

"I came here because I need you to come back. I need you to take care of Yolanda during her postpartum confinement."

My blood ran cold.

"Don't worry," he added quickly, mistaking my silence for consideration. "Once Yolanda recovers, I'll give her a severance package. We'll take the child, raise it as our own, and send her abroad. She won't bother us again."

I stood with my back to him, my vision blurring with rage.

For a split second, I had foolishly thought he might have come to apologize. That he might have felt a shred of remorse.

I should have known better.

I spun around, my eyes burning.

"Alex Delgado, have you lost your mind? You expect me to serve your mistress during her confinement?"

The words barely left my lips before his palm connected with my cheek. The crack echoed through the room.

Blood flooded my mouth. My face burned like it had been branded.

He gripped my jaw, fingers digging in like iron pincers. His eyes held nothing—no warmth, no remorse. "Alex Whitney is not a mistress. Understand?"

He shoved me back. I staggered, lost my footing, and slammed into the sharp corner of the table. Pain shot up my spine.

He scoffed at my grimace.

"I thought you were tough. What's a little bump?" His voice dropped to ice. "You want a divorce? Not without my signature. You will never escape me."

He loomed over me. "Three days. Pack your things and go care for Alex Whitney. Refuse, and you won't like what happens next."

He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Silence settled. In the quiet, a bitter truth crystallized. For years, I'd been the one to bow my head in every argument. I'd believed marriage meant compromise—that endurance would make it last.

I was wrong. My submission hadn't earned love. It had only emboldened him.

He ignored my feelings completely, treating me like a woman who threatened to leave but lacked the spine to follow through. The audacity—demanding I care for the woman who destroyed our marriage.

Even now, he refused to face reality, still spinning empty promises, still trying to manipulate me.

Disgusting. Greedy. Whoever wanted him could have him.

I didn't care if I left with nothing. I was divorcing him.

An hour later, I sat on a bench outside the hospital, freshly bandaged. I scrolled through my phone until I found a number I hadn't dialed in years: Nathan Henson.

We'd been inseparable in high school. But after he went abroad for law school and I started dating Delgado, we drifted apart. To keep Delgado from getting jealous, I'd cut off contact entirely after the wedding.

Ten years. Gone in a blink.

I stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the call button. Finally, I pressed it.

"Alex? Is that you?"

His voice made my chest tighten. "Mm," I managed.

He still had my number. After all this time.

When I didn't speak, he chuckled nervously. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Don't tell me you're in trouble."

Same old Nathan. Still using humor to break tension.

"I... I need your help with something."

The words came out halting, reluctant. But I forced them through.

"Name it," he said instantly. "Where are you? I'm back in Riverdale. I'll come find you."

"I'm not in Riverdale. I'm in Seaside City."

"Seaside City." A pause. His tone shifted from surprised to focused. "Send me your location. I'm coming. Now."

Before I could protest, the line went dead.

Two hours later, the shop bell chimed. A tall, familiar figure stepped inside—Nathan Henson.

When his eyes found me, he rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost bashful.

"Hearing your voice... I couldn't just sit there." He shrugged. "Got a little excited."

"It's been so long. Figured I'd treat you to a meal."

His shy expression pulled a laugh out of me. It was only later I learned how he'd arrived so fast: private jet.

We caught up briefly, bridging the decade between us, before I laid everything out. All of it.

When I finished, Nathan shot up from his chair, face dark with rage.

"That animal." His fists clenched. "If that bastard were standing here right now, I'd kill him."

He rolled up his sleeves like he was ready to brawl. A genuine snort escaped me—my first real laugh in ages.

He thumped his chest, eyes locking onto mine.

"Leave it to me. I'll handle the lawsuit." His voice hardened with conviction. "We're going to destroy him."

Nathan handed me the dossier, his expression grave. "The more detailed the evidence, the better."

I scanned the list. Dealing with a man as controlling and vindictive as Alex Delgado required more than courage—it required strategy. Without tactics, he'd never let me go. He'd just tighten the leash.

Better to arm myself with undeniable proof and let the court swing the hammer. Litigation was the only language he understood.

I recounted what happened at the shop—how he'd stormed in, the scene he'd caused, the vile things he'd said.

"His personal admission of a third party is gold," Nathan said, leaning back. "He handed us the knife to cut him loose. In court, he won't have a leg to stand on."

The knot of anxiety in my chest began to loosen. The path forward was clear.

I gathered the list, grabbed my coat and bag, and offered him a genuine smile. "It's getting late. Let me buy you dinner—it's the least I can do."

Seeing the shadow lift from my face, he didn't stand on ceremony. "Deal. It's rare for you to treat, so I intend to eat my fill."

We were laughing, the atmosphere light, when the office door crashed against the wall.

Alex Delgado stood in the threshold, chest heaving, eyes locked on Nathan.

"Fine! Just fine!" He stepped into the room. "I told you Yolanda was pregnant. I expected you to cry, make a scene, maybe threaten to hang yourself. Instead, you ran off in a fit of pique."

He marched closer. "You kept insisting on divorce. Yolanda scolded me, said I was handling you wrong, that I should be sincere and invite you back."

His face twisted into a sneer. "So I came to apologize. And what do I find? You, shacking up with him? You dare cuckold me?"

He lunged at Nathan, fist raised.

The blow never landed.

Nathan caught his wrist mid-air. His grip was iron, his expression a terrifying calm.

"What do you think you're doing?" Nathan's voice was low, dangerous. "You dare raise your hand to me?"

Delgado struggled. Nathan didn't budge.

"A man who can't control his lower half, let alone his temper—and you call yourself Chief of Thoracic Surgery?" Nathan scoffed. "You're a disgrace to the white coat."

"You fool around, impregnate another woman, then have the audacity to demand your wife serve your mistress?"

He shoved Delgado's hand back, forcing him to stumble. "You shout 'thief' while you're the one stealing. If your conduct gets out, how will you face the medical board? Your reputation will be in tatters."

Delgado's face turned a sickly green. He straightened his jacket, eyes darting between us. "You... you wouldn't dare!"

He turned to me, gaze burning with malice. "Alex, if you ruin me, I'll destroy you. If you won't let me live in peace, don't think you will either."

Nathan didn't waste breath. He drove a sharp kick into Delgado, sending him stumbling toward the hallway. "With how pathetic you are, I don't know how Lexi was ever blind enough to fall for you."

I watched Delgado, feeling nothing but cold indifference. The fear was gone.

"It's not too late to see clearly now," I said. "Nathan, throw him out. Don't let him ruin our appetite."

Nathan grabbed Delgado by the collar and dragged him out like a sack of trash.

Delgado flailed, screaming as he was hauled away. "Alex! You want to dump me for him? Unless you come back and serve Yolanda during her confinement, forget it! If you make me happy, maybe I'll sign the papers! Otherwise, as long as I'm alive, you're mine! I'll drag this out until you're dead!"

The door slammed shut, cutting off his voice.

I stood there, shaken—not by his threats, but by the revelation of his true nature.

Ten years of marriage. We'd had our frictions, our arguments, but I'd never seen him look so vicious, so devoid of humanity. For a decade, he'd hidden behind a mask of gentility.

If this divorce hadn't enraged him enough to tear that mask off, I might never have known the monster sleeping beside me.

No wonder my father had warned me before the wedding. He'd seen past the charm I was too blind to question.

My own fault. Back then, I was a love-struck fool, so desperate for affection I insisted on jumping into the fire pit.

Now, I had to climb my way out.