She Played the Housewife , Until She Found Out What He Was Drinking

"Look at you—causing all this drama, and Morton still took your side. Keep pushing, and you're just proving you don't deserve it."

Everyone expected me to fold after that. Accept the scolding, swallow the humiliation, fall back in line.

I didn't.

My gaze cut past Morton to Lottie, standing right behind him.

"Then I don't deserve it. This divorce is happening."

Morton stared at me, eyes rimmed red with fury.

"Paula, is there someone else? Is that why you're so hell-bent on divorcing me?"

I was done talking. I turned to leave, but Morton seized my wrist and wouldn't let go.

"Who is he? Tell me his name—just say it, and I'll give you one more chance!"

Lottie stepped in right on cue, voice soft, eyes all concern.

"Paula, Morton works so hard, and you're home by yourself all day—of course it gets lonely. He's giving you a chance here. Just tell us. Is there someone else? Is that what this is really about?"

As she spoke, her chest rose and fell, and I noticed a damp stain spreading across the front of her blouse. It hit me like a slap.

I slapped her across the face.

"Don't you dare put this on me. You know exactly why we're getting divorced."

Lottie clutched her cheek and crumpled straight into Morton's arms.

"Manager Henson, I was only trying to talk some sense into her! I don't understand why she has so much hostility toward me, a woman who's already had a child!"

Morton pulled Lottie tight against him, glaring at me with open fury.

"Paula, since you want this divorce so badly, we'll settle it in court!"

A thread of tension inside me loosened the moment I heard him agree.

I turned and walked away without looking back. Not a trace of hesitation.

The moment I stepped out of the banquet hall, I saw the door to the nursing room across the corridor standing wide open.

A breast pump sat on the counter, not even put away.

My stomach lurched. I grabbed the nearest trash can and threw up.

By the time I made it out of the hotel, my phone was buzzing.

A text from Tim, my private assistant.

[Ms. Sullivan, lab results on that glass of milk just came back. Report's in your inbox.]

I opened it immediately. At the bottom of the report, a single line: *Result: human breast milk.*

There was nothing left in my stomach, but my body still convulsed with dry heaves.

I wiped my mouth and called Tim.

"Compile everything. Every last piece. I want Morton Henson destroyed in open court."

I hung up, glanced once at the hotel blazing behind me, and walked toward the parking area.

Ray was already blocking the car door before I could reach for the handle.

He looked at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

"Sorry. Manager Henson says you two are about to divorce, and this car is his personal property. You have no right to use it."

I stared past him at the mountain road, nothing but darkness in every direction, and clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms.

Morton had held his promotion banquet at Hillcrest Resort. Beautiful scenery, but the location was remote. There wasn't a rideshare to be found out here.

He'd planned this. A lesson in what happened when I didn't fall in line.

Ray watched me standing there and smirked.

"A housewife living off her husband, making a scene over a glass of milk and demanding a divorce. I'd love to see how long you last without Manager Henson."

I didn't look at him. I clenched my jaw until my teeth ached, and I walked down that dark mountain road alone.