My husband was ruled by his obsessive-compulsive disorder, enforcing rigid schedules that governed our household.

On our daughter's birthday, he and his assistant showed up late.

The girl, who mirrored her father's need for order, wasn't upset. She just smiled and invited them to cut her cake.

My heart shattered as I watched their cream-covered faces and joyful photos.

The next day, I handed him the divorce agreement, confusing him.

"Just because Edith didn't cut the cake with you?"

"Yes."

...

My husband, Victor Grayson, glanced at the divorce agreement.

"According to the schedule, you should be abroad closing a deal, not here causing a scene," he said. "I have a meeting in three minutes. You can leave."

His dismissive tone struck me as absurd. Before I could respond, his assistant burst through the door.

Helene White reported, "Sir, it's all set. We can head out to..."

She stopped short, spotting me. "Oh, Mrs. Grayson is here. Sorry for the interruption."

Her dejected look prompted Victor to call after her, "No need. She's leaving."

His pointed glare urged me to go. Unfazed, I opened the document and tapped the signature line. "Sign here, and I'll be gone."

He shot to his feet, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing with anger.

Helene sensed the tension in the air, lowering her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were discussing business."

She cast Victor a wounded glance and hurried out.

Worried, he grabbed a pen and signed it with a flourish. "You broke the rules. Deal with the consequences."

With that icy remark, he chased after Helene, abandoning his usual composure.

Alone in the empty office, I let out a bitter laugh.

Victor's obsession with rules had defined our marriage. Every detail of our home adhered to his strict schedules. Any slip-up meant punishment.

Once, those rules applied to both me and our daughter, Edith Grayson. But as she adopted his habits, I became the sole target.

In seven years, I'd never seen him lose his cool. Yet, at Edith's birthday party, he arrived drunk, his arm around Helene, while Edith happily pulled them to cut her cake.

My mind went blank. The red marks on his neck and Edith's warm kiss on Helene's cheek left one thought in my head.

Divorce!

Victor's talk of rules was a cruel joke. He had forgotten them long ago.

While I needed appointments to see him, Helene could barge into his office unannounced.

Now he ran off with her, claiming a meeting. The irony was biting.

Clutching the signed document, I walked out and got in my car, where I loosened my tie and let my thoughts drift.

A sharp ring from my phone jolted me back.

It was Edith's teacher. "Mrs. Grayson? Edith left school in a hurry and forgot her backpack. Can you pick it up?"

...

I was baffled. According to the schedule, Edith should be at school, preparing for a math competition, rather than leaving early.

The teacher explained, "An hour ago, Mr. Grayson sent his assistant to pick Edith up for an urgent matter. Didn't you know?"

"I see," I replied, masking my unease. "Please hold onto her backpack. I'm tied up."

Hanging up, I stared at our family group chat's flawless schedule, my mind reeling. "When has it become a tool to deceive me?"

I took a deep breath, opened the tracker on Edith's smartwatch, and drove to the location: an amusement park.

There, I stopped dead. Victor, in a casual t-shirt and jeans, held Helene close, their laughter warm and intimate.

Edith was riding a carousel, grinning and posing for photos. Helene snapped pictures, then leaned in to kiss Victor's cheek.

They looked like a perfect family of three, while I stood rooted, an outsider stealing glances at their happiness.

This park was famous. I'd suggested bringing Edith here so many times, but she had always dismissed me. "Mom, you're an adult. Don't be so childish. This place is a waste of time."

And Victor's packed schedule eventually made me drop the idea.

Now I saw the truth. They just didn't want to be here with me.

Watching the picky dad and daughter eat happily at a fast-food joint, I couldn't help but think back to the birthday dinner I'd poured my heart into. It had earned nothing but their cold stares.

My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts. An anonymous number sent a photo of the happy trio.

The caption read: [A good wife doesn't ruin her husband and daughter's fun.]

I saved the message and walked away, done with their game.

I still had the Becker Group to run.

When Edith returned home, I was packing.

Clothes and accessories had been left to the maids, and I handled important documents myself.

She looked around and pulled a long face. "Are you leaving home over something so small? Do you care how this makes me look at school? Can't you act like an adult? You're so selfish. I'm not going with you. You don't deserve to be my mom."

Her words dripped with contempt. For six years, I'd cared for her meticulously, yet she showed no reluctance to cut me off.

So, I didn't soften like I used to. Instead, I said coldly, "Perfect. I don't want you either."

Her eyes welled up, but she turned away, expecting me to coax her.

I ignored her and continued to pack. After a moment, she huffed and stormed off.

Once, Edith was bright and sweet, my little ray of sunshine. But she idolized Victor, mimicking his coldness, testing my limits until I meant nothing to her.

That was fine. I was done giving her my love.

The butler knocked, uneasy. "Miss Edith Grayson is rummaging through the storage room for her old toys. We can't stop her. The dust might trigger her asthma."

I snapped my suitcase shut, exhaling. "I'll handle it."

But as I stepped into the storage room, the door slammed shut. Edith's smug voice came through. "Mom, you broke the rules today. Apologize, or you're stuck there all night."

...

When I didn't respond, her tone sharpened. "Your phone is out here. No one is coming to save you."

I flicked on the light. "Whatever."

"Dad's bringing Helene home for her celebration party tonight," she added. "Stay there and don't make a noise."

She kicked the door and left.

As her footsteps faded, I leaned against the door and hung my head.

The storage room's contents hit me like a blow. Most were gifts I'd chosen for Victor and Edith, now covered in dust. Some remained wrapped.

Brushing off the grime, I opened them. Each gift carried a memory of happier times, now laced with pain. Dust stung my lungs, and tears mixed with my coughs.

After unwrapping the last one, I lit a match and set the pile ablaze. Smoke filled the room, triggering the alarm.

The butler and staff rushed in, pulling me out and putting out the flames.

Victor stormed over and slapped me hard. "Have you lost your mind? You're jealous of Helene, so you start a fire to wreck her celebration?"

Edith, in a frilly princess dress, glared. "Mom, you deserve this for breaking the rules."

She ordered the staff to toss my suitcase into the fire, expecting me to break down.

I barely glanced at it, heading straight for the banquet hall. Victor grabbed my arm, hissing, "What do you want?"

I shook him off and strode forward, ignoring their protests.

In the hall, Helene mingled with guests, radiating confidence in my dress. My breath caught when I saw the necklace around her neck. It was my 18th birthday gift from my parents, locked in a safe that only Victor and I knew could access.

It was clear who had given it to her.

I marched over and yanked it off, nearly knocking her down. Victor rushed to her side, his voice tight with anger. "Susan, enough! Helene secured this overseas deal. If you're going to lose it, get out!"

His disgust and Edith's glare didn't faze me. Holding up the necklace, I asked, "Was this your idea, too?"