Chapter 1The Half Of My Body I Sacrificed To Make You Queen

The video arrived on the tenth anniversary of my marriage to Serena Shaw, the scion of a New England financial dynasty.

When I held my phone up, demanding an explanation, Seri merely shrugged, her expression calm, utterly indifferent.

“I have nothing to explain.” She sighed, a delicate, practiced sound. “Your health... it’s been complicated. I couldn’t ask you to keep up, but people have needs, Ash, don’t they?”

I froze, the arm holding the phone above the coffee table going numb.

“That’s your excuse?”

Seri didn’t answer. Her light gaze drifted over me.

“Honestly, for years now, you’ve just been… underwhelming.”

I looked at her, and my heart turned to an icy shard. All those promises of ‘forever’ had only amounted to a short, brutal decade.

* * *

Seri reached out, took the phone from my numb fingers, and tossed it onto the glass coffee table. She glanced at the screen, shutting it off casually.

“I’m tired, Ash. I have been for a while.”

She rubbed her temples, her expression unchanged.

“I’m in my late thirties. Seeing younger men… it’s a vitality I crave.” She spoke as if discussing a new line of credit. “I had planned to keep this from you forever. But since you found out, I don’t have to walk on eggshells or manage your feelings anymore.”

Seri let out a sigh of relief. Every word was a needle, puncturing my chest. The pain was so sharp I could barely stand straight.

I tried to pull my lips into a smile. “Seri, this isn’t funny. Just tell me it’s a hoax, tell me it’s all a lie, and I promise I’ll believe you.”

She looked at me with a complicated expression—pity, impatience, but not a flicker of remorse. She walked out and returned with a document, sliding it across the table. The bold black letters on the cover choked the words in my throat.

“I’ve already signed it.”

She tapped the paper. “If you’re done, sign it, and we’ll have a clean break. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of financially.” Her eyes hardened. “If you want to stay married, fine. We’ll remain husband and wife in the eyes of the media. But you won’t interfere with my private life, and I won’t interfere with yours. As long as we keep up appearances for the shareholders, nothing changes.”

Her finger tapped the table again, a sound of gentle but unmistakable coercion.

I opened my mouth, my eyes burning.

“Why?” I whispered. “We’ve been together for twenty-two years…”

Seri walked closer, taking my hand. Her thumb traced the smooth metal of my wedding ring, cutting off my protest.

“Exactly. We’ve been together for that long. It’s time I tried someone else.” She paused, then looked up and gave me a dazzling, dimpled smile. “Why don’t you try someone else, too? I won’t stop you.”

I lowered my eyes, pulling my hand away. My voice was husky.

“I won’t divorce you.” I met her gaze, cold and steady. “Two decades of my life. I poured all twenty years into us. And you think you can settle that debt with a check?”

The atmosphere thickened into a heavy silence. It was broken only by the piercing ring of her cell phone. Seri grabbed her expensive Italian leather bag from the couch.

She paused at the door, glancing back at me. “Ashton, you’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

The front door slammed shut, sending a rush of air through the great room.

On the dining table was the dinner I’d spent all afternoon preparing to celebrate her return from a business trip. My chest heaved with rage. I picked up the divorce agreement and tore it into confetti. Then, I swept the entire meal off the table. The sound of porcelain shattering on the marble floor echoed through the cavernous, empty living room.

Ten years of marriage, ten years before that in a relationship. I had spent two decades walking by her side. As her money grew, and our houses grew larger, her heart had only grown colder.

When I first received the video, I’d convinced myself it was a deepfake. A cruel joke. I never once imagined that the person who would first betray our marriage would be Serena.

The pieces of the divorce agreement lay scattered at my feet. Seri’s signature on the dotted line felt like a physical jab to my eye. I bent down to clean up the mess, and a shard of plate glass cut my finger. I didn’t even register the blood welling up. I needed to focus on anything else.

But all I could hear was Seri’s voice from before she left. Just yesterday, we were talking about our ten-year anniversary. The day after, that video shattered everything.

It was all so absurd. A waking nightmare.