My chest heaved, every breath sharp, as my heart twisted in painful spasms.

Michael knew I had a heart condition and that heatstroke could threaten my life, yet he still locked me in a sweltering warehouse where the temperature hit over a hundred degrees.

My clothes were soaked through, sweat pouring until I was faint, the edges of my vision blurring.

I don’t know how much time passed before the heavy door finally swung open.

Michael walked in, calm and indifferent. He peeled the tape from my mouth and loosened the ropes.

"Lauren, don’t let this happen again."

My brows knitted in confusion until I saw Nora lounging against the doorframe, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Lauren, I accept your apology."

I clutched my chest, my voice hoarse and ghostly, "What apology?"

The ropes hit the ground, and my body gave way. I collapsed against Michael’s chest. His tone softened instantly, "I’ll take you home."

Every muscle in me went rigid. With what little strength I had left, I swung my hand across his face.

"Let go of me!"

His eyes turned to ice, daggers piercing through me. He clenched his fists, then, with a sharp exhale, he stormed off in fury.

Shaking, I braced myself against the wall and stumbled out of the warehouse, only to be met with stares. My coworkers looked at me with contempt, disgust twisting their faces. One even spat in my direction.

A second later, my phone buzzed endlessly. The company Slack channel exploded with notifications. A message was circulating. It was an alleged "letter of self-reflection" written by me:

"I was wrong. I apologize to Miss Nora Blake. Because of my suspicion, jealousy, and shameless behavior, I hurt her…"

My fists curled tight. Michael had forged the note, mimicking my tone and painting me as nothing more than a vile, low creature.

Once, I would have stormed into his office, furious, demanding justice.

Now? I was done. Nothing mattered more than the divorce.

I didn’t even bother packing. I grabbed my bag and headed for the exit.

However, Nora blocked me at the doorway.

"Lauren, you’re so pathetic." Her smile was cruel. "Now everyone knows you’re a cheap witch. While you were locked in that warehouse, Michael was in the office taking me again and again. He told me he wished you’d just die of a heart attack in there."

She leaned closer, whispering venom, "We’ve done it in hotels, in his car, even on your bed at home. He never had this much fun with you, did he? Poor Michael, stuck with a dead fish like you for three years."

My jaw ached from how hard I clenched my teeth. Without a word, I slid my phone out and hit record. Every word she spat, I captured.

Then, I smiled coldly. "If you like my leftovers, take him. He’s yours."

I shoved her out of my way and walked off.

I contacted a realtor and listed the marital home for sale. Then, after a moment’s thought, I tagged both our parents in the family group chat.

"Please come by my house. There’s something important I need to tell you."

After that, I drove straight to the courthouse. At last, I held the divorce certificate I had dreamed of for so long.

This suffocating marriage was finally over.

However, when I returned home with the certificate still warm in my bag, raised voices drifted out from inside the house.

The door swung open, and a glass slammed straight into my forehead.

"Well, well!" Michael's mother, Mrs. Eleanor Grant, snarled with her teeth clenched. "You shameless witch. You called us here today just so we could watch you sleep around with other men?"

Pain blinded me for a moment as hot blood trickled down my nose.

Then, Michael’s father, Mr. Richard Grant, hurled a stack of photos at my face. "Lauren, my son has to divorce a filthy woman like you!"

Stunned, I picked up the photos, only to feel as though lightning struck me where I stood.

Image after image, naked bodies were entwined, and every woman in the pictures… was me.

My stomach turned. They were fake, crudely photoshopped images.

Still, the knife twisted deep. Just to protect Nora, Michael would stoop this low and frame me with forged photos?

Before I could even speak, Mrs. Grant's palm cracked hard across my cheek.

My mother rushed forward, only to falter, her eyes filling with tears. "Lauren… is it true?"

My father’s head hung low. He said nothing, but his shoulders trembled with fury.

"Lauren," Nora piped up sweetly from the side, her words soaked in poison. "You’ve gone too far. Sleeping with so many men… What if you infected Michael with something dirty?"

My nails dug into my palms, sharp crescents cutting flesh. I opened my mouth, ready to strike back—

However, Michael cut me off, his eyes clouded with something dark. "Lauren… I never thought you could be this filthy."

"Me? Filthy?" I stepped toward him, one deliberate stride after another, locking my gaze with his. My voice shook with fury. "Michael, the only filthy ones here are you and Nora."

Nora flinched, instinctively stepping back.

"Shut up, Lauren!" Michael barked, shoving himself protectively in front of her with a murderous glare.

Mrs. Grant clutched Nora’s hand. Her eyes were cold while venom spewed from her lips. "Don’t you dare drag this good girl down with you! She’s nothing like you, whoring around with men."

A hollow laugh tore from my throat. "Whoring around? The truth is—"

"Enough!"

The word ripped through the room. I turned, eyes blurring, to see my father’s face black with rage.

My voice cracked, trembling, "You don’t believe me either?"

In their eyes, I saw nothing but bitter disappointment.

Tears burned as they slid into my mouth, salt and grief mingling. My whole body shook, cold as if pierced by a thousand shards of ice.

"You will not entangle my son any longer," Mrs. Grant spat. "Divorce him immediately!"

With my own parents silent, her arrogance only grew. She shoved me hard to the floor. Glass shattered beneath me, shards slicing deep into my palms. Pain exploded through me.

Even through the agony, my fingers found the divorce certificate in my bag. Yes. Leaving Michael had been the only right choice I’d made.

Mrs. Grant spat, her saliva hot on my cheek. "Trash like you cheating in marriage… You won’t get a cent of his money!"

Mr. Grant boomed in a righteous voice, "Adulterous scum must leave with nothing!"

"Divorce her! The Grants won’t tolerate this filth!"

I lifted my head. A wall of faces surrounded me, towering above, condemning me like a jury. My throat clogged with tears I couldn’t release. When I bit down hard, copper flooded my mouth. My voice was hoarse as I said, "Leave with nothing? Sure! Divorce? Fine!"

I pushed myself up, trembling, pain screaming through me, but I forced a smile. My face ached, frozen in that bitter curve.

So this is what it felt like. When sorrow sank so deep, it could only spill out as laughter.

Cold fire burned in my eyes as I swept my gaze across them. I pulled the divorce certificate from my bag and flung it at Michael’s face. "You wanted proof? Here it is!"

Before anyone could react, I grabbed the remote, connected my phone to the TV, and cast the screen.

The room lit up with Nora’s own voice, gloating about her nights with Michael, including details of their bed and their trysts in the car. There was even a video of the two of them together.

I pressed play.

"This," I said, my voice cutting like glass, "is better than any divorce certificate."