Chapter 3Six Toasts to Betrayal: Exposing My Husband on Our Wedding Day

The morning of our flight.

I suddenly "came down with food poisoning." I ran to the bathroom seven or eight times, my face pale as a sheet.

While I lay in bed resting, Liam slammed a mug of hot water onto the nightstand.

Water splashed onto my arm, leaving a red burn mark.

I gasped, clutching my arm in pain.

Liam just looked impatient.

"You always get sick right when we're supposed to travel. I only get seven days off, and you're just dragging me down."

"Stop faking it. The water wasn't even that hot! Drink it and let's go to the airport!"

Suddenly, his phone dinged.

He checked the screen and let out a goofy, lovesick smile.

When he noticed me staring at him, he guiltily averted his gaze, then shoved the phone near my face, trying to mask his panic with anger.

"Are you trying to save money by faking sick again, just like last time?"

"Can you stop being so cheap all the time? Can you just live like a normal person for once?"

"Being with you is suffocating! We can't eat anywhere nice, we can't do anything fun!"

I sneered. "Have you ever seen someone faking sick with a face as ghostly pale as mine?"

When Liam first started his research lab, it required massive funding but brought in zero profit. To support his career, I hadn't bought new clothes in nearly seven years. In the winter, I washed our clothes by hand in freezing water just to save a few bucks on the electric bill.

Back then, he used to cry over my red, swollen fingers, swearing he would give me the best life possible.

Now, he found me embarrassing.

My heart was completely dead. I didn't even want to speak to him.

I grabbed my purse to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"The hospital."

Liam grabbed my arm forcefully.

"Why are you going to the hospital?! Just take some Pepto! We still have to make our flight!"

"If I take you to the ER, we'll miss the plane!"

I gave him a freezing glare. "You can go by yourself! But I am going to the hospital."

"Or," I paused, "do you want me to die on that plane so you can find a new wife?"

Liam’s face changed. He spoke quickly.

"What nonsense are you talking about?"

"I just didn't want the money to go to waste. The flights and hotels are non-refundable. It's thousands of dollars."

He gave me a flattering, fake smile and said hesitantly:

"Babe, how about this? I'll go ahead and scout things out. I'll find all the best food and fun spots early."

"You just focus on getting better."

"I promise, by the time you fly out to Paris, I'll have everything perfectly arranged for you."

Looking at the man I had been with for 25 years, who had witnessed my lowest lows and my growth, I asked him with a final, desperate shred of hope:

"Liam, I feel really sick. Can you please stay and take me to the hospital?"

"Paris," I closed my eyes and said slowly, "We just won't go."

The silence in the room was suffocating.

Liam was quiet for a long time before he finally spoke.

"But this is our honeymoon. How can we not go?"

"I'll go to Paris and prepare a huge surprise for you, okay? My Uber is downstairs, I'm heading to the airport! Get better soon, Chloe, I'll be waiting for you!"

He grabbed his suitcase and practically fled the apartment.

As if he was terrified I would call him back.

I forced a bitter smile, stumbled to my feet, and ordered a cab.

"To the airport."