My Wife’s Best Friend Took Everything from Me

I hadn’t expected Cassandra to chase after me.

The woman who was usually silent now overflowed with complaints.

“Tristan is my best friend, and you’re jealous of that? What a lunatic!”

“You might as well tie me to your belt like a dog—you’d suspect anyone anyway!”

“Think! I’m pregnant. What could possibly happen between us? If there really was something, would he dare say it out loud?”

Something inside me snapped.

“Yes—you’re nothing. It’s all my fault for being such a loser!” I roared, trembling. “I’ve endured you for too long!”

Every buried grievance rose up, striking me like whips. Only I knew how much this final straw had crushed me.

“Cassandra, when I drank myself half-dead with clients, you went with him to get a haircut. When I lay in a hospital bed after a car accident, you were out playing tennis with him. Every time I needed you, you were with your ‘best friend’—even today!”

My chest heaved, tears streaming.

“He mocked me to my face with those filthy words, and you flirted with him right in front of me. And when I finally broke down and called the police, you didn’t defend me—you screamed I was crazy!”

I wiped my face with shaking hands.

“From that moment on, Cassandra… we’re finished.”

Silence.

Then, a soft voice brushed my ear:

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.”

I turned—

She wasn’t talking to me. She was wearing headphones, playing games with Tristan through a microphone.

…

Their laughter and shouts echoed from the bedroom all night.

I sat alone on the balcony, Cassandra’s pregnancy test report clenched in my fist, and called the lawyer.

“Hello. Please draft a divorce agreement.”

The next morning, a stabbing stomachache woke me. I staggered through the house until I found her lounging on the sofa, legs crossed, phone in hand.

A notification chimed, and she smiled as if nothing had ever happened.

I called her name again and again before she finally looked up. My pale face seemed to startle her for a moment, but she quickly plastered on a smile, setting her phone aside to press my shoulders lightly.

“You’re not well. Don’t come with me for the prenatal checkup today. Just rest at home.”

Her voice was calm, as if yesterday’s storm had been erased. She always did this—let me drown alone at night, then acted like nothing happened in the morning.

The pain made me clutch her hand, desperate, but her other hand kept typing.

From outside, Tristan’s arrogant voice rang:

“Cassie! Your father’s here—what are you waiting for?”

She immediately pulled free, tossed her phone down, and ran to the door.

I collapsed, knocking the phone over with my elbow.

The screen lit up. A pinned group chat stared back at me: Tristan and His Harem.

I tapped it—and froze.

“Gareth Locke is so pathetic. I told you two weren’t a good match.”

“He drags every party down. Cassie, you should’ve just married Tristan!”

Tristan: ‘It’s my birthday. Don’t bring up that loser. Cassie promised me a cruise ship. I’ll be the man who becomes One Piece!’

“The Knight family’s cruise ship? Cassie, you’re incredible!”

Cassandra: ‘Kneel to your father. This life belongs to you.’

The phone slipped from my hand. My world caved in.