Truth Behind False Love

"I didn't say anything, did I? No need to be so nervous," I said.

Zach's tense expression softened slightly. As if eager to change the subject, he said, "It's Kayla's birthday tomorrow. She invited us to her party."

I told him I would be there.

Relief washed over his face. He seemed almost cheerful as he walked me to the door.

When I got home, I took the wedding photo down from the wall. With a pair of scissors, I cut it into tiny pieces. The framed picture on the table, the diamond ring he had given me when he proposed—I flushed them all down the toilet without hesitation.

That night, Zach didn't come home.

At 11 p.m., Kayla posted a selfie on her social media. In the background was a man's hand—bare of any wedding ring—but I recognized the watch on his wrist. It was the one I had given Zach.

The next morning, she posted again. This time, it was a photo of a custom CHANEL dress, dazzling with diamonds. Her caption read: [Will you really give me whatever I want?]

I suppose it made sense. In three years of marriage, I had never asked Zach for anything. Of course, he would happily spend his money on the woman he truly loved.

But none of that mattered anymore. I had a child now—and for the sake of my child, I would fight for everything I deserved when this marriage ended.

By the time I arrived at the party, the celebration was already in full swing.

Matt was announcing to the crowd that Kayla would soon be launching her own fashion brand—funded, of course, by the Hayden Corporation.

The guests gazed at her with admiration, murmuring about how lucky she was to have two childhood friends who adored her.

When I entered the room, the atmosphere shifted. Their admiration turned to mockery.

After all, I was the wife whose husband was willing to invest millions in another woman while I was left to play the part of a housewife.

I walked straight to Zach. My voice was calm but cold. "When were you planning to tell me about this investment in Kayla's brand?"

His face stiffened.

"This money is part of our joint marital assets," I continued. "Or did you think you could make decisions without consulting me?"

"Honey—" He hesitated, the word sticking uncomfortably on his tongue. "It's just a preliminary plan. Nothing's been decided yet, which is why I didn't mention it."

I let out a soft, humorless laugh. "I don't care if it's just a plan. I'm telling you now—I don't agree to it."

His expression darkened. "Victoria, don't throw a childish tantrum here. Whether or not this investment goes through is my decision. Your opinion doesn't matter."

"Is that so?" I raised an eyebrow, my voice steady. "Everything you own after our marriage is half mine. Or do I not even have the right to ask how our money is being spent?"

Before he could respond, Matt stepped in, his polished smile never faltering. With a light push, he guided me toward the stage, as if diffusing a minor domestic squabble.

"Victoria, when did you become so petty? It's Kayla's birthday today. Don't you think you should wish her a happy birthday instead of making a scene?"

I glanced down at Zach. His face was still clouded with irritation, but his eyes—his attention—remained fixed on Kayla.

A sharp pain twisted in my heart. Rage. Resentment. Humiliation. All of it burned inside me, threatening to swallow me whole.

I took the microphone in my hand.

"Zach," I said, my voice ringing out across the room, "I want a divorce."