Ninety-nine.

That was how many times my husband, Lorenzo, had been unfaithful to me. I survived every affair, every lie, every humiliation. But the hundredth betrayal finally shattered the last piece of me that was still holding on.

Because this time, the woman in his bed was Bianca—my closest friend.

When Lorenzo stepped into our bedroom and found the stack of photographs scattered across the mattress, he didn't flinch. There wasn't even a hint of guilt on his face. Instead, he released an irritated sigh, treating my devastation like a minor inconvenience that had interrupted his day.

"I want a divorce," I said, struggling to keep my voice from breaking. Anger burned beneath every word. "Get out of my house, and get out of my company. I created Marino Tech while you were busy flunking economics classes. Everything you have came from me, and I'm taking it back."

His expression barely changed as he walked toward me.

"That's not going to happen," he replied calmly. "You're my wife, Alessandra. I'm not about to let you destroy everything I've built. You belong with me."

Before I could move away, he crossed the room in seconds. His fingers clamped painfully around my arm, digging into my skin before he shoved me backward onto the bed hard enough to make the mattress bounce beneath me.

I screamed.

He caught both of my wrists and forced them above my head, using his weight to pin me down until breathing became difficult.

I fought him with everything I had.

It wasn't enough.

He violated me anyway.

When I went to the police afterward, desperate for someone to help me, they didn't treat me like a victim.

They laughed.

"Mrs. Marino," one officer said dismissively, barely glancing up from his paperwork, "go home and get some sleep."

I stared at him in disbelief.

"Did you even hear what I said?" I demanded. "I'm here to report that my husband tried to rape me."

The officer leaned back in his chair with a patronizing smile.

"You're married," he replied as though he were explaining something painfully obvious. "A husband can't rape his own wife. That's what marriage is, sweetheart. Sounds like the two of you had a domestic disagreement. We don't interfere with marital bedroom issues."

"It wasn't an argument!" I shouted, slamming my palm onto his desk. "He attacked me! He assaulted me!"

Barely twenty minutes had passed before Lorenzo walked into the station.

He wore the perfect expression of a concerned husband.

"I apologize for all of this," he told the officers, lifting his hands helplessly. "She's been overwhelmed lately. The stress has really gotten to her. She's imagining things. She's convinced everyone is plotting against her."

"I'm not imagining anything!" I cried as two officers seized my arms. "He's lying! Look at the bruises on my body!"

Lorenzo lowered his eyes sadly.

"She did those to herself," he murmured. "She's been hurting herself for attention."

The sergeant didn't hesitate.

"Take her over to St. Jude's," he ordered. "Place her under a seventy-two-hour psychiatric hold. It's for her own protection."

I screamed until my throat was raw.

No one cared.

They dragged me out of that police station like I was the criminal.

Five endless days passed inside a sterile white room before Lorenzo finally arrived to authorize my release.

He drove me back to the mansion I had purchased with my own money.

He gently helped me into bed.

He tucked the blankets around me.

He smiled and told me I needed to rest.

Then I accidentally heard the conversation that changed everything.

"That was way too close," Bianca said with a nervous laugh. "If she'd actually managed to file for divorce before the gala, our entire plan would've fallen apart."

"She isn't going to file anything," Lorenzo answered confidently. "The power-of-attorney paperwork is already prepared. All we have to do now is push her over the edge one last time."

Bianca lowered her voice.

"You mean the birthday setup?"

"Exactly." I could almost hear him smiling. "Friday's her thirtieth birthday. We'll throw the gala like nothing's wrong. I've already hired someone to approach her and pretend they've been sleeping together. The drugs are already hidden inside her purse. Once she loses control—and she will—everyone will witness her breakdown firsthand. That'll give the board all the justification they need to remove her as CEO because she's mentally unstable."

My lungs forgot how to breathe.

"And after that?" Bianca asked. "What happens to the company?"

"It's mine."

Lorenzo sounded almost bored.

"Sure, she's the one who built it. She wrote every line of code back in college while I stood around bringing her coffee. But she signed that prenuptial agreement without reading every clause. Once she's declared legally incompetent, every asset she owns falls under her spouse's control. That means the company belongs to me. The money belongs to me. And once she's institutionalized permanently, she'll never be able to fight back."

Bianca laughed softly.

"You're incredible, baby."

"I never loved her," Lorenzo said without the slightest hesitation. His voice dripped with contempt. "She was useful, that's all. A brilliant little nerd who helped me climb the ladder. Nothing more. Honestly, I've been tired of pretending for years."

I remained frozen on the staircase, unable to move.

The wooden steps felt like ice beneath me.

Every sleepless night spent coding...

Every opportunity I sacrificed...

Every dream I shared with him...

Every ounce of love I had given over the past ten years...

None of it had ever been real.

It had all been part of his plan from the very beginning.

He intended to steal the company I built from nothing, take every dollar I had earned, and bury me inside a psychiatric institution for the rest of my life.

Strangely, I couldn't cry anymore.

There were no tears left.

Only something colder.

Something far more dangerous.

Quietly, I returned to our bedroom without making a sound.

Once the door was shut, I knelt beside my nightstand and carefully lifted the loose floorboard hidden underneath it.

Years ago, I had created the compartment to hide emergency cash along with a disposable phone I used whenever I needed two-factor authentication for secure company servers.

Lorenzo had never discovered it.

I picked up the phone.

My hands weren't shaking anymore.

With steady fingers, I dialed a number I hadn't called in seven years.

The line connected after the second ring.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end was sharp, authoritative, and impossible to mistake.

"Auntie," I whispered.

Silence lingered between us.

My aunt was the head of the Blackwell family, a woman whose approval carried enormous weight. She had cut me out of the family the day I chose to marry Lorenzo, calling him a snake before anyone else could see what he truly was.

Finally, she spoke.

"Alessandra."

Her voice revealed nothing.

"What prompted this call? Have you finally grown tired of playing happy wife to that penniless fraud?"

I closed my eyes.

"You were right," I admitted quietly. "About all of it. He's trying to ruin me, Auntie. He wants to steal my company, have me declared mentally incompetent, and lock me away."

There was another brief silence.

Then she asked only one question.

"What exactly do you need from me?"

I took a slow breath.

"I'll do it," I said. "I'll marry whoever you've chosen for me. I'll sign every contract you put in front of me. I don't care anymore."

My voice hardened.

"But in return, I want the best lawyer money can buy."

I tightened my grip on the phone.

"And I want your help making sure my husband loses absolutely everything."

I strode through the front entrance of Marino Tech without slowing down.

By the time I reached the executive floor, two large glass doors stood between me and my office.

Bianca was waiting in front of them.

The sight of her made my stomach turn.

She was wearing the designer dress I had bought her several months earlier after she'd shown up at my house in tears, confessing she was about to be evicted because she couldn't pay her rent. I had even invented the role of Executive Assistant so she could have a stable paycheck.

Now she stood there like a loyal guard dog, keeping me away from the office that belonged to me.

"You can't go in there, Sam," she said, folding her arms.

"Step aside, Bianca," I replied evenly, refusing to raise my voice. "I have a meeting with Ms. Harrington and the investors in less than ten minutes."

"Lorenzo told everyone you're on medical leave," she answered without moving an inch. "He's leading the meeting today. You should head home and get some rest. You're... not in the right condition."

I walked closer until we were barely a foot apart.

"I'm the founder of this company," I said. "I'm also the majority shareholder. Move, or consider this your termination."

A smug smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"You don't have the authority anymore," she said. "Lorenzo's the one signing payroll now."

I refused to waste another second arguing with her.

I stepped past her and reached for the door handle.

Suddenly, Bianca hurled herself sideways.

The performance would've been laughable if it hadn't been so calculated.

My sleeve barely grazed her arm, yet she let out an exaggerated scream before throwing herself onto the carpet. She grabbed her ankle dramatically and cried out in pain.

"Please... Alessandra, stop!" she sobbed loudly.

The conference room doors burst open.

Lorenzo rushed out first, followed closely by Ms. Harrington and the rest of the board members.

He hurried to Bianca's side and knelt beside her.

"Bianca?" he asked urgently. "What happened?"

With tears pooling in her eyes, she pointed a trembling finger toward me.

"She pushed me," she whispered between fake sobs. "I only told her she couldn't interrupt the meeting, and she lost control. She shoved me."

"That's a lie," I said immediately. "She threw herself onto the floor."

Lorenzo slowly rose to his feet, wearing an expression of perfectly rehearsed outrage.

"Alessandra," he said, shaking his head in disappointment. "Have you really reached the point where you're assaulting employees? Assaulting your own best friend?"

"She stopped being my friend a long time ago."

Ignoring him, I turned directly to the investors.

"Ms. Harrington, I apologize for this interruption," I said. "My husband is trying to force me out by convincing everyone that I'm mentally unstable. None of it is true, and I'm fully prepared to conduct today's meeting."

Ms. Harrington looked visibly uneasy.

Her eyes drifted from Bianca, who was still pretending to cry on the floor, back to me.

"Alessandra..." she began carefully. "We were informed about what happened at the police station... and about your psychiatric admission."

"There was never anything wrong with me," I replied firmly. "The entire situation was manipulated."

Before she could answer, Lorenzo stepped in.

"She's experiencing another episode," he said gravely. "Can't you see it? Look at her. She's manic."

He turned toward the board with an apologetic sigh.

"I'm truly sorry all of you have to witness this. I'll take care of my wife. Please go back inside while I handle the situation."

Then his voice rang through the hallway.

"Security."

The two guards stationed near the elevators glanced at one another.

I'd known both of them for years.

Neither moved immediately.

Lorenzo addressed Ms. Harrington with calm professionalism.

"According to our corporate bylaws," he explained, "if Alessandra is medically unfit to perform her duties, executive authority temporarily transfers to her spouse until she's cleared to return. That makes me acting CEO."

"I understand," Ms. Harrington replied quietly.

She gave me a sympathetic look that somehow hurt more than outright condemnation.

"Alessandra... perhaps going home would be best. We can't afford instability during negotiations for a merger this important."

I looked around the hallway.

Not one person saw the woman who had founded Marino Tech.

They saw a problem.

A risk.

If I exploded, Lorenzo would have exactly the reaction he wanted.

If I fought back physically, I'd only strengthen his story.

Slowly, I relaxed my clenched hands.

"Very well," I said, my voice colder than ice. "Enjoy the meeting, Lorenzo."

I held his gaze.

"This is far from over."

Without another word, I turned and walked away.

As I reached the elevators, I caught Bianca flashing me a triumphant smile before Lorenzo helped her hobble theatrically into my office.

My office.

I spent the rest of the afternoon alone inside the mansion, quietly packing my belongings into moving boxes.

Just after six o'clock, I heard the front door open.

"Alessandra?"

Lorenzo's voice carried through the foyer.

I stepped onto the upstairs landing and looked down.

He had one arm wrapped around Bianca's waist, helping her inside.

Her ankle was wrapped neatly in a spotless elastic bandage that looked as though it had come straight out of its packaging.

I folded my arms.

"What is she doing here?"

"She's staying with us for a while," Lorenzo answered casually as he settled her onto the living room sofa. "With the ankle injury you caused, she can't manage the stairs to her apartment. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on you while I'm working."

I gave a humorless laugh.

"Keep an eye on me? I'm neither a child nor an inmate."

He shrugged while removing his suit jacket.

"You're emotionally unstable," he replied matter-of-factly. "Bianca offered to help. She'll make your meals and remind you to take your medication."

"I'm not taking medication," I shot back. "And I certainly don't want her living in my house."

"Our house," Lorenzo corrected smoothly. "Seriously, why are you making such a big deal out of this? She's been your best friend since kindergarten."

He looked at me with practiced innocence, as though he hadn't spent the past week systematically destroying my life.

As though he hadn't forced me onto our bed.

As though I hadn't seen every photograph exposing his affair.

A memory surfaced before I could stop it.

Bianca and I sitting cross-legged on our dorm room floor, splitting instant noodles because neither of us could afford anything else.

Bianca holding my hair while morning sickness left me kneeling over a toilet during my first pregnancy.

Bianca wrapping me in her arms after I miscarried.

"I'll never leave your side, Sam. Sisters before misters, remember?"

The memory felt like a blade twisting deeper into my chest.

"We're not friends anymore," I said quietly as I descended the staircase.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Bianca replied sweetly from the couch, carefully elevating her supposedly injured foot. "I know you're overwhelmed right now, Sammy. You don't have to lash out. I've already forgiven you for pushing me."

I stopped directly in front of her.

"You've forgiven me?"

She smiled with infuriating sweetness.

"Of course. I know you didn't mean it."

I looked straight into her eyes.

"The moment you climbed into bed with my husband, you stopped being anything to me."

Silence swallowed the room.

Lorenzo froze beside the liquor cabinet.

Bianca's smile disappeared.

"I... I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, instinctively looking toward Lorenzo. "See? She's doing this again. She's imagining things."

"I've read every message," I said. "I've seen every picture. Remember calling me a 'frigid bitch'? Or have you conveniently forgotten that too?"

Bianca recoiled against the cushions.

"You're sick," she cried. "None of that happened! You're inventing things!"

"That's enough!" Lorenzo thundered, slamming his hand against the wet bar with enough force to make the glasses rattle. "Stop harassing her! You're completely out of control!"

"No," I shouted back. "I'm the woman who covered her rent when she had nowhere to go. I'm the one who handed her a career when every company turned her away. And this is how she repays me? By sleeping with my husband?"

"She's going to attack me again!" Bianca shrieked, tears streaming down her face with suspiciously perfect timing. "Lorenzo, she's dangerous!"

Something inside me finally broke.

"Dangerous?" I repeated quietly.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

"You haven't seen dangerous yet."

Before either of them could react, I swung my hand.

The slap cracked across Bianca's face so loudly that the sound echoed through the cavernous living room.

The bedroom door slammed shut behind me.

A second later, I heard the deadbolt slide into place.

The sound echoed through the guest room, making one thing painfully clear.

I was locked in.

My face throbbed where Lorenzo had struck me. He'd dismissed it as an instinctive reaction, insisting he'd only slapped me to "bring me back to my senses" after I hit Bianca. Looking at the angry bruise spreading across my cheek, I knew exactly what it really was.

Abuse.

I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed and stared blankly at the closed door.

My phone had disappeared.

My laptop was gone too.

Inside the house I had bought with my own money, I had become a captive, watched over by the husband who had betrayed me and the woman I had once considered family.

Time crawled by.

Outside the window, daylight slowly faded until the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. Shadows stretched across the walls, swallowing the room inch by inch.

My stomach twisted painfully.

The growl that escaped it reminded me I hadn't eaten anything since the previous day.

Eventually, I heard the lock disengage.

The door opened.

Bianca walked inside carrying a dinner tray.

An ice pack rested against the side of her face where I'd slapped her, but there wasn't a trace of misery in her expression. If anything, she looked pleased with herself.

"I brought you something to eat," she said cheerfully, placing the tray on the bedside table.

Chicken noodle soup.

It had always been my favorite comfort meal.

At least, it used to be.

"I'm not interested," I replied without looking at her.

"Oh, Alessandra." She sighed dramatically before sitting beside me on the mattress as though nothing had happened between us. "Don't be stubborn. You have to eat something. You're starting to look terribly thin."

"Leave."

Instead of listening, she leaned closer and lowered her voice.

"What if we stopped fighting?" she suggested almost playfully. "Maybe we should call a truce."

I finally turned to face her.

Really looked at her.

This was the same woman who had stood beside me as my maid of honor.

The same woman who had held me while I sobbed after another negative pregnancy test.

"A truce?" I repeated slowly. "You're sleeping with my husband."

She shrugged as though we were discussing the weather.

"So?"

Her fingers absentmindedly tugged at a loose thread on the quilt.

"We've shared everything since we were little girls, haven't we? Clothes, makeup, secrets..." She smiled. "Why should Lorenzo be any different? The three of us could make this work. We could live together like one happy family, just like old times."

Revulsion churned violently inside my stomach.

The nerve.

The complete lack of shame.

I wanted to scream until the walls shook.

Instead, I remembered what the attorney had told me.

Gather evidence.

Wait.

Survive.

Losing control now would only hand them another excuse to have me declared unstable.

I swallowed the bitter taste rising in my throat and forced myself to stay calm.

"You really believe that could work?" I asked quietly.

"Of course." Bianca smiled wider, something predatory flashing behind her eyes. "Lorenzo loves both of us. Just differently. I give him excitement." She tapped her temple before pointing at mine. "You give him intelligence. Together, we're exactly what he needs."

I nearly gagged.

Still, I made myself nod.

"Maybe..." I whispered. "Maybe you're right. I'm exhausted. I don't want to keep fighting anymore."

Bianca's entire face lit up.

"I knew you'd come around!" she exclaimed, clapping excitedly. "I'll tell Lorenzo right now. He's going to be so happy."

She hurried out of the room so quickly that she forgot to lock the door behind her.

About ten minutes later, Lorenzo stepped inside.

He studied me cautiously, clearly expecting another confrontation.

When he found me sitting quietly instead, the tension visibly left his shoulders.

"Bianca told me you're ready to apologize," he said.

I lowered my eyes.

"Yes," I answered.

It was the biggest lie I'd ever told.

"I'm sorry, Lorenzo. I don't know what happened to me. Everything that's been happening... the pressure... I just lost control."

"I know." His voice softened as he walked over and wrapped his arms around me.

Every muscle in my body stiffened.

I forced myself not to pull away.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he murmured. "We'll get through this. We'll be a family again."

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet jewelry box.

"I bought you something."

He opened the lid.

A diamond necklace glittered beneath the bedroom light.

"I wanted you to have this," he said with a smile. "Think of it as a fresh start. Proof of how much I love you."

"It's beautiful," I said softly, allowing him to clasp it around my neck.

"Oh, and I bought Bianca one too," he added casually. "She's done so much to help lately. It only seemed fair."

We went downstairs together.

Bianca was already seated at the dining table.

Around her neck hung an identical necklace.

At first glance they looked exactly alike.

Then the chandelier caught the stones.

Mine reflected the light with a dull, cloudy shine.

Hers scattered brilliant flashes of color in every direction.

She was wearing genuine diamonds.

Mine were nothing more than cheap imitations.

His mistress received the real gift.

His wife received the counterfeit.

I silently took my seat, folding my hands tightly beneath the table.

Lorenzo lifted his wineglass.

"A toast," he announced. "To fresh starts."

Bianca smiled at him.

"To new beginnings."

Their glasses clinked together.

I raised mine as well but never took a sip.

Instead, I reached for the soup.

The first spoonful tasted wrong.

There was a strange metallic bitterness beneath the broth.

I forced myself to swallow.

Then I took another bite.

Almost immediately, my stomach cramped so violently that I doubled over.

"Alessandra?"

Lorenzo's voice sounded distant, as though he were standing at the other end of a tunnel.

"My stomach..." I gasped. "Something's wrong."

Agonizing pain tore through my abdomen.

I tried to stand.

My legs refused to obey.

The floor rushed toward me as I collapsed, retching uncontrollably.

"Oh my God," Bianca said.

She didn't leave her chair.

She simply watched while calmly taking another sip of wine.

"Call an ambulance!" I cried.

The dining room blurred.

Darkness crept into the edges of my vision.

For one terrifying moment, Lorenzo simply stared at me.

I watched the calculation flicker across his face.

Was it worth saving me?

Or would it be easier if I died right there?

The next thing I remembered was the rhythmic beeping of medical equipment.

The sharp scent of antiseptic filled my lungs.

My eyelids felt impossibly heavy.

I couldn't open them.

But I could hear.

"Is she dead yet?"

Bianca.

She sounded annoyed more than concerned.

"No," a man answered.

A doctor.

"She's stable now. It appears she suffered a severe toxic reaction. Either food poisoning or an interaction with the medication listed in her chart."

Bianca let out an irritated groan.

"Seriously? That bitch just refuses to die."

"Lower your voice," Lorenzo warned sharply.

"So what now?" Bianca asked. "She's going to wake up and blame the soup."

"We'll explain it away," Lorenzo replied smoothly. "We'll say the stress finally caught up with her. Her health has been deteriorating for weeks. It'll fit perfectly with everything else."

"And... the pregnancy?"

Bianca's voice dropped.

Silence followed.

Heavy.

Oppressive.

Then the doctor spoke.

"She never knew."

His tone was subdued.

"She was approximately eight weeks pregnant."

Everything inside me froze.

"She was?" Lorenzo asked.

"The pregnancy couldn't be saved," the doctor answered quietly. "The abdominal trauma combined with the toxins was simply too much. She miscarried."

My baby.

I hadn't even known.

After three heartbreaking miscarriages...

After years of doctor's appointments...

After finally giving up on ever becoming a mother...

There had been a child growing inside me.

And because of them...

My baby was gone.

Hot tears slipped from beneath my closed eyelids.

I didn't move.

I didn't make a sound.

I lay perfectly still while the three people responsible discussed my child's death as though they were solving a business problem.

"Well," Bianca said without an ounce of remorse, "that's one less complication. At least there won't be an heir getting in the way of the divorce."

"You're right," Lorenzo agreed without hesitation. "In the end, it's probably for the best."

A pause followed.

"Now all that's left is making sure she completely falls apart at her birthday party."

Inside, something hardened.

No.

That would never happen.

Because long before my birthday arrived...

I'd already be gone.