My Husband’s “Best Friend” Humiliated Me in the Delivery Room,Now They’re Both Going Down

"Naomi, it was just a joke. Don't take it so seriously."

My breath caught in my throat.

"A joke?"

My hand trembled as I pointed to the filthiest comments on the screen.

"You turn your wife—who just gave birth—into a punchline? Brendan, are you even human?"

He snatched the phone with an impatient sigh and typed a half-hearted message telling everyone to knock it off.

"That's enough, Naomi. Don't be so dramatic."

"You gave me a child. I was happy. What's wrong with sharing the video so the guys could celebrate too? If you don't like it, just don't look."

I went rigid, unable to believe those words had come from his mouth.

But then again—maybe I'd never really known him at all.

Everything before this. All of it. A mask.

The realization that I'd spent five years with a man who'd casually expose my most private moments to strangers sent ice crawling down my spine.

I looked at his face again—and couldn't hold it in. I lurched over the edge of the bed and dry-heaved.

"Was there... was there anything else?" I gasped. "Did you ever record anything else and send it out?"

The nausea in my chest refused to subside.

Brendan raised an eyebrow, his gaze darkening as he considered the question for a long moment.

"No."

Relief began to loosen the knot in my stomach—

Then he continued.

"But I wanted to."

"We'd just gotten married back then. You hadn't even had the baby yet. How could I risk it?"

He looked at me as though he were discussing the weather.

"If you'd found out, I would've lost the wife I worked so hard to marry."

Staring at him, rage tore through me until my whole body shook. My hands on the bed rail wouldn't stop trembling.

"Disgusting. Vile."

My fists clenched, released, clenched again—and finally, I swung at his face.

He saw it coming. His arm still draped around Charity's neck, he stepped back smoothly.

My palm cut through empty air.

The nausea surged again. I barely made it to the trash can before bile burned its way up my throat.

Charity watched, one hand resting on Brendan's, the other pressed to her mouth as she doubled over laughing.

"See? I told you she's hilarious. A few little words and she's falling apart. Zero composure."

Her voice carried just as Brendan's friends arrived to visit.

They sauntered in with grins, shoving an elaborately wrapped bouquet of lilies into Charity's arms before crowding around her and Brendan.

"What's so funny? You two look way too happy—always keeping your little secrets from us."

"Screw off," Brendan said with a lazy curse, then asked what brought them here.

Their eyes slid toward me. The words came out halting.

"Just... wanted to check in."

"Oh—where's the baby? Boy or girl? You showed us the whole delivery but never told us what you got!"

The one speaking—I recognized his voice instantly. The most vulgar one in the group chat.

Charity was already steering them toward the bassinet.

I couldn't stop them. All I could do was turn desperate eyes to Brendan.

"Brendan."

I called his name the way I always had.

He paused. Something flickered in his eyes when he saw my ashen face, my tangled hair—a brief flash of reluctance.

"What is it?"

His voice softened.

"Could you take them somewhere else? The baby just fell back asleep after crying. All this noise... it's not good for her."

The moment the words left my mouth, whatever softness had been in his expression vanished. His tone turned cold again.