I Taught 19 Men How to Moan My Wife's Name

Jarrett’s POV

My head was pounding so hard I could barely think. Rage surged through me, so hot it nearly knocked me out cold. I gripped the desk just to stay standing.

Before I could even speak, Fern sneered on the screen.

“When a puppy misbehaves, it deserves to be punished,” she purred. “Guys, any ideas on how we should discipline Jarrett?”

The group chat blew up again.

[Didn’t he say he’s got a high fever? Let’s help him cool off—dump ice on him!]

[Yesss! Ice bucket challenge, loser edition!]

Everyone jumped in to join the fun.

Fern gave the green light, and Jordan ran off barking orders like her favorite lapdog.

“Ten buckets. Make ’em freezing.”

I barely managed to whisper, “Fern… I really am sick…”

“Quit faking. I know your tricks,” she spat, like the words themselves were filth.

‘But what does she know about my pain, my helplessness, my sorrow? Even the thing that “ruined” her that night a few years ago—it wasn’t even my choice…’

The first bucket hit, dragging me back to reality. While it soaked my burning skin with bone-deep cold, laughter erupted all around me—digital, cruel, echoing.

Then the second bucket. Then the third. One after another. All under Jordan’s instruction.

I was shaking, drenched, teeth chattering. But it didn’t stop.

From her luxury beach chair, Fern laughed and threw herself into her 18th boyfriend’s arms, kissing him slow and deep

I couldn’t take it anymore. Everything went blurry. My knees buckled.

I collapsed forward, smacking my forehead hard on the edge of the coffee table.

My blood poured instantly.

And just before I blacked out, I thought I heard Fern’s voice—shaky, not smug.

“Jordan, are you just gonna stand there?! Get him to the hospital now! If anything happens to him, I swear you’ll regret being alive!”

When I came to, the first face I saw… was hers.

“You’re such a drama queen. Always sick, just like your mother. Must be karma,” Fern began. “Marrying you was the worst damn luck I’ve ever had.”

Arms crossed, she stared at me like I was some shit she scraped off her stilettos.

Eight years ago, I was just the housekeeper’s kid. I’d just landed an offer from a top international firm when the Schnitzers suddenly announced I’d be Fern’s future husband.

They never even asked Fern.

She always thought mom and I did something that led to her parents’ decision. No matter how many times I tried to explain, she didn’t believe a word of it.

Then one day, I woke up after a night of drinking… in bed with her.

It was done. Irreversible.

Our marriage followed like a trap snapping shut.

But Fern never let go of her anger. She launched an investigation.

And when her parents pressured for answers, my already-ill mother… took the blame. She said she was scared Fern wouldn’t give me a chance, so Mom did something desperate.

I still remember the day Fern found out. She kicked me to the floor, trembling with rage.

“Damn it, Jarrett! We were already dating—I admired you! I even thought maybe… maybe I’d marry you one day!

“And you and your fucking mother went and pulled this disgusting, low-class move to force me to marry you?!

“Both of you are nothing but shit!

“You both deserve to die!”

That same night, she brought home her first boy toy—and made me serve them tea while they bathed together.

She made me kneel outside the bathroom door, listening while they laughed and moaned.

But no matter how much she punished me for what she believed, I never believed my mother did it.

She was a good woman—raised me on her own, lived humbly, never chased after money.

She always told me, “As long as we’re safe and healthy, that’s enough.”

She even rejected Fern’s parents over and over until they promised to ask Fern directly.

But none of that mattered to Fern. She refused to listen.

After a long silence, I looked her in the eye.

“I’ll set you free.”

She snorted. “Please. Everyone knows you’re my number-one simp. You’d cling to me even in another universe.”

As if she remembered something, she clapped her hands and smirked.

“Oh, right! Let me introduce you to number nineteen.”

She tilted her chin high like she was about to show off a new property she bought.

She was flaunting her affair.

It was supposed to make me feel something. Jealousy. Rage. Heartbreak.

But all I felt was… nothing.

I looked at my so-called wife and thought, ‘I don’t really care now.’