The CEO's Sweet Revenge on Her Cheating Husband

It made me frown. "I won't let you die."

My throat felt scraped raw, as if dragged over sandpaper, every word carrying the taste of blood.

He'd deceived me for so long.

The very least I could do was make sure he didn't get to die so easily.

I walked out the hospital doors and drifted aimlessly down the street.

There was hurt inside me, but more than that, there was an unwillingness to accept it.

Morgan and I had gone from school uniforms to wedding clothes together.

The moment we graduated from college, he took my hand and walked me down to the courthouse to get our marriage license.

In that dim, damp little basement apartment, we spent several happy years.

Four days of instant noodles a week, three days of plain bread rolls, and not once did I complain that it was hard, that I was tired.

Then came his accident, and I carried the company we'd built together on my thin shoulders.

All these years, his parents' retirement and daily expenses had been mine to cover as well.

As a wife, as a daughter-in-law, I gave everything I had, until even strangers couldn't find a single fault in me.

I'd never believed in God, but they said that if you gave up meat with a sincere heart, your prayers would be answered.

So that Morgan's legs might heal, for five straight years I didn't touch a scrap of meat. Even when malnutrition made me faint at my desk, I'd just gulp down a few mouthfuls of plain porridge and force myself through.

Now, looking back, I'd been such a fool.

To grind myself down like this for a man whose every word was a lie. It wasn't worth it.

At ten that night, I returned to the marriage home I'd once prepared for us.

A finely furnished three-story townhouse with gardens front and back.

I'd only taken part in the renovations and buying the furniture. I'd never lived in it a single day.

Most of the time I slept in hospital corridors, or on the office couch.

The instant I pushed the door open, I was startled to find the whole place redecorated in an entirely different style.

The simple, elegant French lambskin sofa was now buried under all sorts of plush dolls and stuffed toys, every shape and size.

On the coffee table sat a matching set of cartoon couple's mugs that hadn't been there before, one pink and one blue, engraved with the letters "J" and "S." How perfectly they matched.

I drew a deep breath and made myself walk into the bedroom.

The wedding photo of Morgan and me had been taken down from the wall, tossed carelessly into a corner under a thick layer of dust.

In the walk-in closet, all my clothes were gone.

Even the treasured wedding gown I'd loved most on my wedding day had been cut to shreds and thrown in the trash.

My feet carried me to the side of the bed against my will, and I stared down at the tangled, rumpled sheets.

I had a vague idea of what those two had been doing here not long ago.

Fighting down my nausea, I pulled a pair of women's lace panties out from between the sofa cushions.

There was no need to wonder. Their activities had hardly been confined to the bedroom.

In an instant a violent surge of acid rose up from my stomach, and I rushed to the bathroom, gripped the toilet, and threw up for a long time.

Long enough that my phone was ringing before I wiped away my tears and answered.

The butcher I used to buy from so often was calling, kindly, to remind me.

"Ms. Floyd, I set aside a fine cut of beef short ribs for you today. Best thing there is for making soup for your husband. When do you think you'll have time to come down to the market and pick it up?"

My voice was calm. "No need."

He paused, taken aback. "That's not like you. You used to wait in line however long it took just to grab the freshest bones for him. What's the matter today? You don't even want it when it's set aside and ready?"

A stab went through my chest. "I won't be needing it anymore."

Not long after I hung up, the front door downstairs seemed to push open from outside.

I held my breath and, like a thief, hid myself inside the empty closet.

As the entwined, panting breaths of a man and a woman drew closer and closer, I made out Morgan's face through the gap.