1 In the third year of my marriage to Carter Sterling, he set up a young, pretty college girl in an apartment downtown. Her name was Chloe Jenkins. She had a sweet, innocent look—exactly Carter’s type. Carter had been keeping her around for over six months. Other than me, she was the woman who had stayed by his side the longest. My friends warned me to be careful. They all said that this time, Carter might actually be falling in love. The first time I met Chloe was on my birthday. My nose had been bleeding since the morning. I went to the hospital for a checkup, and the doctor told me I would probably only live until next spring. I nodded gently and whispered, "That's okay." I wasn't afraid of dying, but I was a little afraid of the pain. I heard there was a very expensive experimental painkiller that could make my remaining days a bit more comfortable. The money in my bank account wasn't enough, so I went to Carter’s company to find him. It just so happened that Chloe was there, too. She had just graduated and was working as Carter’s personal secretary. Carter was in a meeting, so I sat in the waiting area. Chloe kept staring at me, whispering to her colleagues nearby: "Is that the boss's wife? She's so ugly. She looks dried up, like she's about to drop dead." "Everyone says I look like her. How do I look like her? I'm way prettier." The polished glass wall reflected my image. I wore no makeup and was swallowed up by a bulky, unflattering winter coat. It was true. I wasn't pretty, and I was about to drop dead. A colleague pulled Chloe's sleeve and whispered back, "She just isn't dressed up. If she put on makeup, ten of you combined couldn't compare to her." "Also, don't let the boss's favoritism get to your head. Don't provoke her." "You don't know how much the boss loves her. If you upset her, he will literally end you." 2 Hearing that Carter loved me deeply, Chloe pouted in defiance and rolled her eyes at me. She brought me a cup of tea, asking in a sickly-sweet voice, "Emma, how could the boss bear to make you wait so long?" "It's so weird. Usually, whenever I come to find him, no matter how busy he is, he drops everything to keep me company. He tells me I'm the most important person to him." "I thought he was this considerate with all his women..." She smiled, her eyes curving into sweet crescents. When she smiled, she really did look like a younger me. I thought about it. Carter really did treat Chloe differently. He had countless mistresses. He used them as tools to spite me, bringing a different woman home every night, testing my reaction over and over again. But Carter never kept them around long. A day or two, maybe a couple of weeks at most, and he would get bored. Only Chloe. Carter kept her properly on the outside—taking her to dinners, shopping, the movies. They were like any ordinary, loving couple. Carter gave her money, and he gave her affection. I looked at Chloe and smiled softly, asking her in a gentle voice, "If you're so important, how can Carter bear to keep you hidden away as a dirty little secret?" "You should talk some sense into him. Tell him to divorce me sooner so he can marry you." Chloe's face drained of color. Humiliated and furious, she lowered her voice and hissed, "The one who isn't loved is the real third wheel! You are the one who doesn't belong!" "You're just riding on the fact that you met Mr. Sterling a few years before I did. But look at you now—you're old and ugly. What do you have left to fight me with?" Her colleague, probably terrified that I would snap, hurried over to grab her arm and pull her away. Honestly, I didn't mind. I had made a promise to myself a long time ago: I wouldn't get angry over Carter, and I wouldn't cry over him either. And I certainly wouldn't lower myself to fight other women out of jealousy for him. He wasn't worth it. 3 Chloe was yanked back, lost her footing, and crashed to the floor. The ceramic teacup shattered, slicing a deep gash into her palm. Blood spilled across the tiles. Through the glass walls of the conference room, Carter saw the injured Chloe. With everyone watching, he slammed his files down, pushed open the doors, and strode over, pulling Chloe into his arms. He snarled coldly, "Who the hell hurt her?" The well-meaning colleague stumbled backward, her face ashen with terror. I sneered. "I did it. And she deserved it." Chloe glared at me through her tears, crying out, "Yes, I deserve it! It's my fault for falling in love with a married man. It's my fault people call me a homewrecker and a mistress!" "But Mr. Sterling, as long as you love me, I'll stay by your side for the rest of my life. No one can tear us apart." She cried so beautifully. Even spouting such ridiculous nonsense, she looked brave and resolute. Carter chuckled, his anger melting. He reached up to wipe her tears, coaxing her, "Be good. Look at you, crying like a little stray cat." He truly treated her differently. I lowered my eyes, too tired to keep watching, and simply said to Carter, "For my birthday this year, I want fifty thousand dollars." It was funny, really. We were husband and wife, but we didn't even have each other saved in our phones. Unless I needed money, I never reached out to him. Before we got married, we had a deal: he wanted my body, and I wanted his money. Carter always hated me for being a gold digger. But in the past, whenever I asked, no matter the amount, he would give it to me—usually more than I requested. But this time, he looked at me and smiled. A freezing, cruel smile. He said slowly, "You can have the money." "But, Emma. Lower your noble head and apologize to Chloe first." Carter was using fifty grand to buy my dignity, all to buy Chloe an apology. It was the first time he had ever used his money to humiliate me for another woman. I slowly clenched my fists and gave a faint smile. Suppressing the sudden, agonizing pain flaring up in my chest, I turned and walked away. I didn't want the money anymore. I suddenly felt very curious. Carter... If one day you found out that this money could have kept me alive just a little longer, if you knew how much pain I suffered before I died... What kind of face would you make? 4 I went home alone, curling up in agony under the covers, sweating through my clothes from the pain. I took some sleeping pills, lying to myself. If I fall asleep, it won't hurt anymore. In a hazy delirium, I had a dream. I dreamt of the year I was twenty. Carter was dirt poor, but he loved me so, so much. It was my birthday. We walked past a bakery and saw a couple sitting by the glass window. The girl was holding a delicate slice of white velvet cake. It looked exquisite, delicious, and incredibly expensive. I remember it was snowing heavily. I scooped up a handful of snow, smiled at Carter, and asked, "Carter, look at this snow. Doesn't it look like a slice of cake?" Carter clenched his jaw and pulled me into a tight hug, hiding his red, tear-filled eyes from me. Three days later, he appeared outside my dorm building holding a massive, entire white velvet cake. A whole cake cost fifty dollars. Standing on the freezing, wind-swept streets handing out three thousand flyers only earned him twenty. I looked at the frostbite on his fingers and burst into pathetic, ugly sobs. I tilted my head back and yelled at him, "Carter Sterling! Your hands are meant for reading books and writing papers! You can't just ruin them just to make me smile!" I told him I wasn't worthy of such an expensive cake... Carter frowned and instantly shut me down. He said, "Emma, you are the best girl in the world. You deserve every beautiful thing this world has to offer." That day, I ate the entire cake through my tears. So much time has passed, I can't even remember how it tasted anymore. All I know is that since that day, I’ve never had a cake that tasted better. I slept for a long time. Groggily, I heard my phone ringing. I answered it, and heard Carter's voice calling my name: "Emma." I smiled weakly, my voice sweet as I called back, "Carter, it's snowing heavily. I want to eat cake." Without waiting for his reply, I rolled over and sank back into a deep sleep. 5 I slept until the middle of the night before I woke up starving. I went to the living room to find food, only to realize Carter had actually come home. He had bought Chloe a massive penthouse. They lived there together. Chloe cooked for him, made him laugh, and waited for him to come home. Carter was living a great life. He hadn't been back to this house in a very long time. He leaned lazily against the floor-to-ceiling window, a cigarette between his lips, staring fixedly at me. I kept my eyes down, walking past him, but he grabbed my arm. He frowned, his voice soft. "Why have you lost so much weight?" His tone was gentle. It almost sounded like he still loved me. I froze for a second, then violently yanked my arm away, snapping, "Carter, are you out of your mind?" He looked down at his empty palm, the warmth bleeding out of his face. When I reached the dining table, I saw a large cake resting on it, covered in unlit candles. Only then did I realize that the phone call hadn't been a dream. I said I wanted cake, so Carter went out and bought one. What was this? A peace offering? But I was dying. I had stopped needing cake—and stopped needing Carter—a long time ago. I grabbed the cake and shoved it straight into the trash can. Carter ground his teeth, grabbed me, and slammed me against the wall. He cursed viciously, "Emma, are you fucking playing with me?" I smiled and admitted it. "Yes, Carter. I'm playing with you. So what?" "I say I want a cake, and you go run and buy a cake. Why are you still as pathetic as you used to be?" I deliberately drove the knife into his heart. I watched Carter's expression freeze into absolute absolute ice. He crushed his cigarette out, dragged me into the bedroom, and threw me onto the bed. Carter was driven mad by anger. Like a beast losing control, he roughly tore at my nightgown. I was terrified. I balled my fists and hit him. "Carter, you bastard! Don't touch me! You disgust me!" He pinned my legs down so I couldn't struggle, lowered his head, and bit down hard on my neck. The pain brought tears to my eyes. He pressed his lips against my ear and growled, "Emma, would it kill you to just give in for once?" "Do you have any idea how many years I've waited for you to just be soft with me?" "Do you know how happy I was when you told me you wanted cake?" "And then you treat me like a fucking joke?" He lifted his head, staring at me with bloodshot eyes. I fought back my tears and glared right back. In the dimly lit room, neither of us spoke. Neither of us was willing to surrender. Carter leaned down, getting closer and closer. Just as his lips were about to brush mine, his phone suddenly rang. It was Chloe. Carter paused, but eventually picked it up. I could hear Chloe crying through the speaker. "Mr. Sterling, are you really abandoning me for Emma? You clearly told me you loved me." "I'm at a bar right now. I drank too much, and some guy is harassing me..." "I'm so scared. Please come take me home, please?" Carter didn't say a word to her. He just stared at me, a cold smile forming on his lips. He softly ordered me, "Emma. Beg me." "Beg me to stay. Just ask, and I won't leave." He must have forgotten. A long time ago, I had thrown away my pride and begged him too. "Carter, can we just sit down and talk calmly?" "Can we stop fighting?" "Can we just love each other?" "Can you please just be good to me?" That day, Carter stared at me with cold indifference, smiled, and said, "Emma, you aren't worth it." Those words had been embedded in my heart ever since. Until today, when I finally got to return them. I grabbed his collar, looking him in the eye, and enunciated every word: "Carter. You aren't worth it." Carter went silent for a moment. Then, he let out a self-deprecating laugh. He brought the phone back to his ear and told Chloe, "Wait for me. I'm coming to get you." Without looking at me again, he got up, slammed the door, and left. 6 The next day, photos of Carter getting into a physical brawl with another man over Chloe spread through the Manhattan elite circles. It was the first time his affairs with other women had caused such a public spectacle. Paparazzi swarmed the front of my house. When I tried to leave, they surrounded me, firing off questions. Carter's company had grown exponentially over the years, giving him massive influence on Wall Street. Young, obscenely wealthy, and handsome, he was practically a celebrity online. A young female reporter shoved a recorder in my face. "Mrs. Sterling, do you have any comments regarding Mr. Sterling and Chloe Jenkins?" I kept walking, not even looking back as I countered, "One is a man committing adultery, and the other is a homewrecker who knows exactly what she's doing. What exactly do you want me to say?" The girl chased after me. "But I heard that when Mr. Sterling was at his poorest, you dumped him for money!" "Then, when he made it big, you emotionally manipulated him and used underhanded tactics to force him to marry you..." "Now that Mr. Sterling has found true love, he and Chloe are a perfect match. You're the one stubbornly clinging to the title of Mrs. Sterling and calling others homewreckers." "Don't you think you're the one being a bully?" I stopped in my tracks, turned with a cold smile, and snatched the press badge hanging around her neck. She was an intern. Tucked behind her press pass was a student ID from Easton University. I looked at her calmly. "You're Chloe's friend, aren't you?" "Back then, Carter used every ruthless tactic in the book to force me to marry him. Do you really think I wanted this?" "Everyone in our circle knows the truth. You really didn't know? Or did you just come here to throw mud at me to help your little sorority sister climb the ranks?" Her expression faltered. Panicked, she snatched her badge back and defended herself self-righteously: "Yes, Chloe is my friend, but I'm a journalist! Everything I say is objective and fair." "If you really didn't want to marry Mr. Sterling, then why won't you divorce him now that he loves someone else?" I smiled and opened my mouth to reply, but suddenly, my nose started bleeding again. I looked a mess. Someone in the crowd laughed. "Mrs. Sterling talks a big game about not caring and being forced into marriage, but she's so stressed out she's giving herself nosebleeds!" I reached up with a fingertip and wiped the blood from my lip. Calmly, I said, "I'm not stressed. I'm just sick. I'm dying, so I get nosebleeds a lot lately." The crowd suddenly fell dead silent. Nobody was laughing anymore. Only that girl kept going. "Cut the act. You get a little nosebleed and suddenly you're playing the terminal illness card for pity." "I am so sick of women like you. Pulling the 'I'm dying' stunt just to fight over a man. You're a disgrace to women everywhere." She flipped her ponytail and marched off. Watching her back, I realized she was just as repulsive as Chloe.
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