Just Foodie Buddies? Yeah, Right.

Vincent ended the call, grabbed a coat from the bedroom, and headed for the door.

As he brushed past me, his shoulder knocked into mine.

I staggered, my lower abdomen slamming against the edge of the table. A sharp, piercing pain shot through me.

He didn't notice. Didn't stop. Just threw a careless remark over his shoulder.

"Cassidy isn't feeling well. I need to take her to the hospital."

Then, as if that weren't enough, he added, "Stop making a fuss. There's nothing between me and her. We're just friends. If you don't believe me, I'll bring her over once she's better. She can explain it to you herself."

The pain left me sweating, my patience worn thin. I pulled out my phone, turned the volume up to its maximum, and hit play on a voice message that Cassidy had sent me.

"Well then, why don't you let her explain to me in person? What exactly did she mean when she sent me this?" I questioned.

For the briefest moment, Vincent stiffened. Then, almost instantly, his face smoothed over, his expression taking on a practiced ease.

"It's just a joke," he said. "We were talking about you over dinner. Cassidy even complained about me not bringing you along. I just made a joke."

His voice turned colder. "You should really learn from her. She's not as petty and unreasonable. Is this the reason you're asking for a divorce?"

He brushed it off as if I were making a big deal out of nothing.

I let out a short, bitter laugh.

There was no point in pretending anymore.

"Forgetting our wedding anniversary. You lied about a business trip just so you could go on a private vacation with her." I locked eyes with him. "Vincent, how much more evidence do you need before you finally admit you cheated?"

He hadn't expected this.

His first reaction wasn't guilt. It was fury.

With a sharp movement, he flung his keys onto the table, his voice dropping to a frigid tone.

"So you've been spying on me? Checking who I travel with? Don't you know that trust is the most important thing in a marriage?"

I didn't answer. I didn't need to. The irony was too obvious.

He let out a harsh breath. His phone rang again.

It was Cassidy.

This time, he ignored it. He picked up his keys from the table and forced himself to breathe evenly.

"I'm not going to argue with you about this tonight," he said. "We'll talk about the divorce when I get back, alright? I need to check on Cassidy. She's sick."

I was too tired to fight anymore. Wordlessly, I took out a divorce agreement, unfolded it, and blocked his way to the door.

"Sign this first. Then you can go wherever you want."

Vincent let out a short, incredulous laugh.

"You had this ready," he said, his eyes narrowing. "So you were planning to leave me all along, weren't you?"

I didn't answer. Just held out a pen, standing my ground.

The phone rang again. But he didn't pick it up, just glared at me and huffed angrily.

By the fourth time the phone rang, he lost all patience.

His temper finally snapped.

With a forceful shove, he sent me sprawling to the floor.

"I'm not signing it!" he roared.

I hit the ground hard. A fresh wave of pain seared through my abdomen, like something inside me was being torn apart.

I tried to call out to him, but my voice wouldn't come.

Vincent had already stepped out the door. He didn't even turn back.

I lay on the floor, my limbs weak, a creeping sense of fear taking hold.

Something was wrong.

I could feel it.

The connection between me and my baby… was slipping away.

My vision swam. The world tilted.

And just as the last shred of consciousness slipped from my grasp, I heard a voice—raw, desperate, piercing through the fog.

"Samantha! Don't scare me! You're bleeding—OMG, you're bleeding so much!"