The year I caught Julian cheating, I became the most famous “crazy wife” in the city. I smashed his car windows. I shredded his contracts. I caused a massive scene at his firm, forcing him to fire the female assistant he was sleeping with. He hated me for it, but honestly, he was just as unhinged. When I threatened him with a razor blade, screaming about divorce, he just sat on the edge of the bed. For every cut I made on my arm, he made one on his own. We tortured each other for five grueling years. Everyone in our social circle agreed our marriage was beyond saving. Until the day my best friend, Maya, slapped him across the face, sobbing hysterically. She screamed at him, “Julian, after pushing her to the brink of insanity, how do you even sleep at night?!” After that day, Julian suddenly changed. He gave me every ounce of security I demanded. He came home exactly on time. He left his phone unlocked for me to check. Even for business dinners, he’d send me his live location beforehand. When I threw tantrums, he coaxed me. When I smashed plates, he swept up the pieces. I asked him if he had finally realized how much he hurt me. He was silent for a long time before he pulled me into a tight hug. “Clara,” he whispered. “Let’s just try to be happy. Let’s make this work.” I almost believed he had finally come back to me. Until the afternoon I came home early and caught Julian with his hands bruising Maya’s waist, kissing her deeply, the room filled with the unmistakable, heavy sounds of their passion. I stood frozen in the doorway, listening to his voice, thick with suppressed agony. “Maya, how long are you going to keep punishing me?! You told me to go back and play house with her, and I did it!” “She can’t have kids! But our baby is innocent! Please don’t abort this baby…” Maya pushed him away, sobbing, only for him to press her back against the mattress even harder. “It’s been five years. We’re the ones who have been wronging Clara this whole time…” The ultrasound printout in my hand fluttered to the hardwood floor. I suddenly started laughing so hard that tears spilled down my cheeks. So he had forgotten why it was so hard for me to conceive. And the woman he had been cheating on me with all those years ago... was my best friend. The sister I chose. Julian. The love I could never quite grasp? I finally decided I didn't want it anymore. … I stood in the doorway, feeling like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. Julian had Maya pinned against the edge of the bed, his fingers digging into her hips like he was terrified she’d vanish if he let go. I stared at Maya’s tear-stained, beautiful face, and a wave of absolute absurdity washed over me. So, while I was pathetically crying on her shoulder about my failing marriage, she was already standing behind my back, tangled up in the sheets with my husband. She used to curse Julian’s name with me. She’d drink wine with me and hold me while I cried until the sun came up. She had even held my face and promised, “Clara, don’t be scared. No matter what happens, I will always be on your side.” Turns out, “being on my side” just meant sitting front-row to watch me slowly lose my mind. I wanted to laugh, but my throat felt completely blocked. Only a broken, breathless gasp managed to escape. The two people on the bed finally froze. Maya looked back first. The moment she saw me, every drop of color drained from her face, leaving her ghost-white. “Clara…” She frantically pushed Julian away, haphazardly pulling her clothes together, and stumbled toward me barefoot. Julian saw me, too. In that split second, the look in his eyes wasn’t guilt or remorse. It was absolute defensiveness. Maya practically collapsed in front of me, grabbing my wrist. “Clara, I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry…” She sobbed, gasping for air. “I didn’t mean to. I swear I didn’t mean to hide this from you.” I looked down at her. I knew this face so well. When I woke up in the hospital after slitting my wrists, everyone called me a psycho. She was the only one who hugged me with red, swollen eyes. She had said, “Clara, you just love him too much.” Thinking back on it now, when she was holding me, was she laughing on the inside? While she was comforting me, was she secretly celebrating the fact that the woman Julian truly loved was her? “Clara, I was wrong. I was so wrong.” She suddenly let go of my wrist and dropped to her knees. “I don’t want this baby.” She looked up at me, a pathetic, weeping mess. “I’ll go to the clinic right now. I’ll abort it, okay?” “If you can just forgive me, I’ll do anything you want.” As she spoke, she raised her hand and slapped herself hard across the face. “I’m trash. I betrayed you.” “Clara, please don’t hate me.” But the moment the words “abort it” left her mouth, Julian’s demeanor entirely shifted. “Maya!” He lunged forward, grabbed her off the floor, and violently yanked her behind him, shielding her with his body. The movement was so fast and aggressive, like he honestly believed I was about to strike her. Watching him instinctively protect Maya, my mind flashed back to five years ago. I was screaming in his corporate office, demanding he fire the assistant he was sleeping with. Everyone looked at me like I was a completely irrational, hysterical madwoman. Julian had stood in front of that assistant just like this. His eyes were glacial, his voice dripping with disgust. He had said, “Clara, that’s enough.” And now, here we were again. Same exact words. Julian glared at me, suppressing his rage. “Clara, are you done throwing a tantrum?” “Haven’t you played the crazy wife long enough? Smashing my car, trashing my office, slitting your wrists, threatening to jump off the roof—every single time, you push everyone around you to the absolute breaking point. Aren't you tired?” With every word he spat, my face grew paler. Maya grabbed his sleeve, crying and shaking her head. “Julian, stop. We’re the ones who hurt her.” “Hurt her?” Julian let out a cold, cynical laugh, as if he had finally reached his limit. “Maya, we owe her absolutely nothing! Even if we did, we paid that debt in full years ago!” “It’s not my fault she’s barren, is it?!” The moment that sentence dropped, a deafening explosion went off in my ears. The entire world went silent. Barren. He said it so casually. So effortlessly. Three years ago, I was pregnant. I got into a horrific car crash on a rainy night, desperately trying to chase his car down. That night, he abandoned me on the side of the road to go pick Maya up from the airport. I was on the operating table for nine hours. The doctors told me the trauma to my body was so severe, I would likely never be able to conceive again. He knew. He knew exactly what happened. But now, standing right in front of me, shielding Maya and the baby growing inside her, he looked me in the eye and said: It’s not my fault she’s barren, is it? I stared at him. Suddenly, the man standing before me felt like a terrifying stranger. “Julian.” My voice shook uncontrollably. “Say that again.” Maya’s face was ashen. She frantically tugged at his arm. “Stop talking, Julian. Please, just stop.” But Julian was already blinded by his own self-righteous fury. He looked at me the way you would look at an unforgivable, irredeemable monster. “Did I say something wrong?” “Clara, for the last five years, you’ve used the fact that I married you to drag everyone into your psychotic drama.” “Maya held you while you cried, dealt with your screaming fits, and cleaned up your messes. Whatever she owed you, she’s paid it back tenfold.” “This baby is mine. And it’s hers.” “If you want to hate someone, hate me. Don’t you dare touch her, and don’t you dare touch my child!” I looked at him, my fingernails slowly digging into my palms. Just this afternoon, I had walked out of my OB/GYN’s office. The doctor had smiled warmly and told me that while the odds were incredibly low, miracles still happen. I was pregnant. I had planned to tell Julian tonight over dinner. Looking back on it now, I felt like an absolute idiot. I gently rested a hand on my stomach. It was still completely flat. There was nothing to see. But a sudden, overwhelming wave of relief washed over me. Thank God. Thank God I hadn’t told him yet. A father like Julian didn't deserve to know this baby existed. Maya dropped to her knees again, sobbing. “Clara, hit me. Scream at me. Do whatever you want.” “Just please, don’t hate Julian…” I looked down at her, my expression dead. “Maya, you are genuinely disgusting.” The next second, the sharp, cracking sound of a slap echoed through the bedroom. My head snapped to the side, and I lost my balance, crashing hard onto the floor. A high-pitched ringing pierced my ear. Julian stood over me. His hand was still suspended in the air. The raw, unfiltered rage in his eyes hadn't completely faded yet. “CLARA!” He ground the words out through clenched teeth. “What gives you the right to talk to her like that?” “Newsflash: the world does not revolve around you! We owe you absolutely nothing!” The room went dead silent. Maya was stunned. She clearly hadn’t expected Julian to actually hit me. She scrambled forward, grabbing his arm, sobbing. “Are you crazy?! How could you hit her?!” Julian’s chest heaved violently. When his eyes dropped to the rapidly forming, angry red welt on my cheek, he seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second. But he didn't apologize. I slowly raised my hand and touched my burning cheek. That single slap finally, violently woke me up from the delusion I had clung to for five years. I stood up, turned around, and walked out the door. Julian called after me. “Where do you think you’re going?” I leaned heavily against the wall, taking it one step at a time, moving toward the front door. As I reached the entryway, I heard Maya’s muffled, frantic crying. “Julian, go after her…” Julian didn't move an inch. Maybe he thought I was just throwing another crazy tantrum. Maybe he was terrified I would turn around and hurt his precious baby. Maybe, in his eyes, the only thing Clara Hayes was good at was using love as a weapon and threatening suicide to keep him trapped. But this time, I didn't want him anymore. I pushed the front door open. The cool night air hit my face. I looked down at my stomach, and the tears finally broke, sliding down my cheeks. “Baby,” I whispered into the dark. “Mommy’s taking you away.” I walked down the sidewalk, aimlessly, until I dug my phone out of my purse. In my contacts, besides Maya, I only had one other close friend I had grown up with: Olivia. Her mother passed away when she was young, so she practically grew up in my house. My mother treated her like a second daughter. When she got her first period, it was my mom who washed her stained sheets for her. In college, Olivia, Maya, and I shared a dorm. We were inseparable. She was a corporate lawyer now. Over the years, when things with Julian got violent and toxic, everyone else told me to just “let it go” and “work it out.” Olivia was the only one who would sit me down, stone-faced, and analyze my assets, shares, and legal options. She always said, “Clara, whenever you’re ready, come to me. I will get you out of this marriage.” The phone rang for a long time before she finally answered. “Clara? It’s late. What’s wrong?” Hearing her voice, I almost broke down sobbing again. “Liv.” “Maya betrayed me.” The line went silent for a few seconds. I gripped the phone tight, clinging to it like a life preserver. “She’s pregnant with Julian’s baby.” “They’ve been lying to me for five years.” “Liv, I want a divorce.” “Will you draft the papers for me? I don't want anything. No alimony, no assets. I just want to get away from him.” After I finished, a soft, almost imperceptible scoff came through the speaker. “Clara.” Olivia let out a long, heavy sigh. “Why are you still acting like such a child?” I froze. “What did you just say?” It was as if she couldn't be bothered to keep up the act anymore. Her tone was laced with exhaustion, and a sickening, condescending pity. “I already knew about Maya’s pregnancy.” “Actually, to be precise, it’s not just me.” “The Vance family knows. Maya’s family knows. Our entire friend group knows.” “You were the only one left in the dark.” “Why?” I heard my own voice ask, sounding hollow and distant. Olivia paused for a moment before replying softly. “Clara, think about it. Look at how you’ve been acting the last few years. Slitting your wrists, threatening to jump, screaming in his corporate lobby… who the hell would dare tell you the truth?” “Maya is almost three months along.” “If you found out and lost your mind, what if you hurt her?” I suddenly let out a dry, cracked laugh. “So all of you teamed up to protect her.” “And you all just sat back and watched me look like an absolute idiot, crying on her shoulder while she comforted me and told me to ‘make it work’ with my husband?” Olivia’s voice turned colder. “Clara, don’t make it sound so malicious.” “Maya has been in agony over this.” “She’s spent the last five years drowning in guilt.” My hand was shaking so violently I could barely hold the phone to my ear. “She’s in agony?” “What about me?!” The line was quiet again. “Clara, when it comes to love, it’s not about who got there first.” I finally couldn't hold it in. I burst out laughing, harsh and bitter. “Not about who got there first?!” “Olivia, I am Julian’s wife!” “I am his legally married spouse!” “Maya slept with a married man, destroyed my home, and you’re telling me ‘it’s not about who got there first’?!” Olivia took a sharp breath, clearly losing whatever patience she had left for my "delusions." “Clara. You aren’t his wife anymore.” My laughter stopped instantly. “What does that mean?” Her tone was terrifyingly calm and clinical. “You and Julian are already divorced.” “Legally speaking, Julian and Maya signed their marriage license yesterday morning.” “So, in the eyes of the law, they are the married couple. You are the mistress.” The streetlights blurred into a dizzying smear of yellow. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. A pedestrian bumped my shoulder, and I stumbled, grabbing onto a streetlamp just to keep from collapsing onto the concrete. “You’re lying…” My voice was trembling so badly I could barely form the words. “I never signed divorce papers. How could I possibly be divorced?” Olivia let out a soft, amused chuckle. “Did you forget?” “Last month, Julian told you he was transferring several of his properties into your name. He had you sign a stack of legal documents.” I stood paralyzed. The memories crashed into me like a tidal wave. Last month, Julian and I had just celebrated our wedding anniversary. He had placed a thick stack of papers in front of me, telling me it was a post-nuptial asset protection agreement. He said, “Clara, I know you struggle with feeling secure.” “Sign these. No matter what happens in the future, the houses and the money will always be yours.” I was so overwhelmed with emotion and gratitude that I didn't even read the fine print. I just signed my name wherever he pointed. Olivia’s voice echoed relentlessly through the phone: “Hidden in that stack of asset transfers was a divorce petition and a final settlement agreement. I drafted them myself.” “Clara, Julian just wants to start fresh. He wants a new life.” I bit down on my lower lip so hard I tasted copper. “Olivia. You are my lawyer. You knew exactly what those papers were. Why didn't you warn me?” She completely dropped the friendly facade. Her tone turned sharp and mocking. “I am a lawyer. Which is exactly why I knew dragging this out was completely pointless.” “Julian doesn’t love you. Literally everyone can see that.” “Clara, we were doing you a favor. We helped you end things with dignity.” With that casual, dismissive statement, she hung up. I felt like every drop of strength had been drained from my bones. I was sliding down the trunk of the streetlamp, about to collapse onto the pavement, when my phone suddenly started ringing frantically. “Hello? Is this Ms. Hayes? Your mother was involved in a severe hit-and-run. She is in critical condition. You need to get to General Hospital immediately!” I scrambled into the ER lobby, wild-eyed, and grabbed the first triage nurse I saw. “Where is my mother?! Sarah Hayes! The hit-and-run victim!” The nurse checked her computer, her expression turning grim. “Are you family? The patient is currently in emergency surgery. Her vitals are extremely unstable.” “You need to go to the billing department immediately. The trauma surgery requires an upfront deposit of at least $50,000.” Fifty thousand dollars. A month ago, that amount of money wouldn't have even registered as a problem for me. But after Julian manipulated me into signing those documents last month, every single joint account and line of credit I had access to was frozen pending the divorce settlement. My hands shook violently as I swiped card after card at the billing terminal. Declined. Declined. Declined. Just then, a nurse rushed over to me. “Ms. Hayes, your mother regained consciousness for a brief moment in the trauma bay. She kept asking for you.” I whipped my head around. “She’s awake?!” “It was only for a second. She’s unconscious again.” The nurse hesitated, then handed me a shattered cell phone in a plastic evidence bag. “These are the patient’s personal effects. There was an active phone call right before the accident. We aren't sure if it’s relevant to the crash.” I looked down at the cracked screen. The last incoming call on my mother’s phone... was from Maya. Call duration: Six minutes and twenty-three seconds. The blood in my veins turned to ice. The nurse lowered her voice. “The paramedics who brought her in said the patient was standing on the corner, talking on the phone. She was incredibly distressed, crying and screaming, ‘That’s impossible, my daughter is not a homewrecker!’ Then she stepped into the crosswalk against the light and was hit by the SUV.” A deafening, high-pitched ringing filled my ears. Maya. Getting pregnant with Julian’s baby wasn’t enough. She stole my husband. She stole my friends. And then she had the absolute malice to call my mother—the woman who treated her like family—and tell her I was the mistress destroying her marriage. My mother spent her entire life prioritizing dignity and grace. She couldn't stand seeing me suffer even the slightest injustice. How could her heart possibly handle a vicious, humiliating attack like that? I gripped my phone, my fingers trembling so badly I kept hitting the wrong numbers. Finally, I managed to dial Julian. He answered, his tone dripping with impatience. “Clara, what do you want now?” My throat felt like it was packed with shattered glass. “Julian. My mom was in a car crash.” The line went dead quiet for a second. I clung to that silence like a lifeline, speaking rapidly, desperately: “She’s in emergency surgery. I need fifty thousand dollars right now, but all my cards are locked. Can you please just wire the hospital the deposit? Please.” “I’m begging you, Julian.” “I will pay you back. I swear to God I will pay you back.” Julian let out a cynical, mocking laugh. “Clara, do you honestly think I’m a complete idiot?” I froze. “What?” “You just caused a massive scene at the house, and now suddenly your mom is in a life-threatening car crash?” His voice was absolute zero. Cold, hard, and merciless. “Can’t you come up with a better lie?” Tears poured down my face, hot and fast. “I’m not lying.” “You can call the police. You can call General Hospital and ask them! Julian, please, I’m begging you, she doesn't have time—” He cut me off. “Clara, have you lost your mind entirely?!” “You find out Maya is pregnant, and magically your mom gets hit by a car, and you desperately need a massive wire transfer.” “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re just trying to force me to come to the hospital to see you.” I couldn't speak. In his eyes, I was so sick, so twisted, that I would use my own mother’s life as a prop in a pathetic lie. I choked back a sob. “Julian, I am begging you. For the last time. Please save my mother.” But he just sounded exhausted, annoyed, and deeply disgusted. “Clara, stop using these pathetic, toxic manipulation tactics. It makes me sick.” “I am not giving you a single cent.” The call disconnected. The dial tone echoed in my ear, and it felt as if my soul had been completely ripped from my body. Half an hour later, the heavy double doors of the OR swung open. The trauma surgeon pulled off his surgical mask. His eyes were heavy with defeat. “Who is the family for Sarah Hayes?” “I’m so sorry. We did everything we could.” In that moment, I didn't cry. I just watched the nurses push the metal gurney out of the OR. The body on the table was covered entirely by a stark white sheet. Beneath that sheet was my mother. Just last night, she had texted me, asking what I wanted for dinner on Sunday. Now, she was lying there, and she would never open her eyes to look at me again. I leaned against the wall, taking slow, mechanical steps toward the gurney. The second my fingers brushed the cold white fabric of the sheet, a sharp, agonizing cramp violently ripped through my lower abdomen. I looked down. Blood was soaking rapidly through the fabric of my dress, dripping onto the pristine hospital floor. The next second, the world went completely, terrifyingly dark. Right before I lost consciousness, I heard someone scream. “She’s pregnant! Get a crash cart!” In the chaos, a nurse picked up my dropped cell phone. The screen was still open to Julian’s contact profile. She immediately hit redial. When the call connected, the frantic nurse practically shouted into the receiver: “Hello? Is this Mr. Sterling?” “Ms. Clara Hayes is hemorrhaging in the ER. She is suffering a severe miscarriage and her vitals are crashing. We need you down here immediately!”
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