Chapter 1
ANA
The breathless noises hit me the second I stepped into the living room, raw and unapologetic, slicing through the silence of the house.
They were coming from our bedroom.
No—their bedroom now.
I’d moved into the guest room months ago, ever since my husband decided to fuck her in our bed without caring that I was right there in the same goddamn space where we once made love.
Marcus never hid his affair. He didn’t care enough to. He brought her here whenever he wanted, walking through the door with her as if she belonged here more than I ever did.
My stomach twisted, a familiar ache blooming in my chest, spreading like wildfire through my veins.
I should’ve been used to it by now. But how do you get used to your heart being ripped out over and over? No matter how many times I found him with her, the pain never dulled—it sharpened, carving deeper grooves into my soul.
Ever since the first time I caught them, he stopped pretending. He stopped pretending to love me, to see me, to even acknowledge that I existed beyond being the mother of his child. And when he finally admitted he had never loved me… that was when the illusion shattered for good. That was when I realized I had been living a lie, believing in a man who never existed. A man I built in my mind from scraps of affection he tossed my way in college, when we were young and stupid and full of dreams.
I had been a mistake he was too much of a coward to correct.
A mistake sealed the moment I got pregnant.
And yet, even knowing all this, I stayed.
I stayed because of Ryan.
Because I thought maybe, just maybe, he would change. That the man I fell in love with back in college was still buried somewhere beneath all that coldness.
But he didn’t change. He never could. He never would. I was his mistake from the very beginning.
He would never have married me if not for the pregnancy—if not for my parents.
I’d lost count of how many times I’d walked in on him with Ivy. How many nights I’d been inside this house, listening to the sound of their pleasure echoing through the walls—like a song you hate but can’t escape.
It had become a routine. A painful, humiliating routine.
But hearing them now, only a week after we buried our son... it felt like being carved open from the inside.
I should have turned around. Should’ve dropped the envelope on the table, picked up my luggage, and caught the next flight out of this godforsaken city.
But my feet carried me forward anyway, past the family photos on the wall—smiling faces from a life that no longer existed.
Ryan’s little grin in his second-birthday picture. Marcus’s arm around me at our wedding, his smile so convincing even I believed it back then.
Lies. All of it.
I blinked back the tears threatening to fall and tightened my grip on the envelope. Inside were the divorce papers I’d just picked up from the lawyer—the final proof that whatever we once were had died long before our child did.
Marcus barely showed up during the four months Ryan was in the hospital.
There were always excuses. But I knew better. He was with Ivy.
And when Ryan's heart finally gave out… Marcus wasn’t there. He didn’t even come home after the funeral. Not once.
And now he’s back—with Ivy—fucking her like nothing ever happened. He didn’t even have the decency to wait. Not a single month. Does he feel nothing? Or is this his way of erasing us entirely?
I swallowed hard, blinking away the tears that burned behind my eyes. There was no point in crying anymore. Tears wouldn't bring Ryan back. They wouldn't make Marcus love me. They were just salt in the wounds I'd let fester for too long.
I dragged in a shaky breath and started up the stairs, each step heavier than the last.
The closer I got, the louder the moans grew, punctuated by the rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh.
“Oh my.. fuck, Marcus,” Ivy gasped, her voice dripping with pleasure.
"Tell me how much you need it,” he growled back, his tone smug, possessive—the same voice he used to use on me, back when he bothered to pretend.
“So fucking bad,” she whimpered. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. You feel so good inside me.”
“That's right, baby. Take it all,” he murmured.
The bedroom door hung open. Of course it was. Marcus didn’t care if I saw them. He wanted me to. He wanted me to hurt. To know that I had never mattered, that I was replaceable, forgettable.
My throat burned with unshed tears. I wanted to wait for them to finish, to confront him when the haze of lust cleared, but my flight to New Avalon leaves in two hours, and I’ll be damned if I miss it because of this. Because of him. This ends today. No more waiting for scraps.
I stood frozen at the door, my heart pounding in my ears.
Marcus had Ivy bent over the foot of the bed, his hand came down on her ass with a crack that made me flinch. She squealed, pushing back against him, and he laughed—actually laughed—like this was the best day of his life.
'Look at you, taking it so good,” he growled, thrusting deeper. “This pussy was made for me.”
Ivy whimpered, pushing back against him. “Yes, yes, just like that... fuck me like you own me"
Marcus hadn’t touched me in so long. Even before I ever caught him with her, my body had already become a desert… and here he was, pouring himself into someone else.
My breath caught when Marcus’s eyes flicked up, locking onto mine.
They were dark, glassy with lust, and for one stupid second, I thought he’d stop. That he’d feel something—shame, regret, anything. But he didn’t. He smirked and pulled out just enough for me to see the slick shine on his cock before slamming back in. Harder. Faster. Like my presence fueled him.
“Oh God, yes!” Ivy cried out, oblivious or uncaring. “Right there, don't hold back!”
“I never do with you,” he replied, his eyes still on me.
He flipped her onto her back in a quick motion, her legs spreading instantly, hooking around his waist as he sank back in. His gaze flickered to me every few thrusts, like he was putting on a show.
Like I was the audience he’d been waiting for. Is this for me? Some twisted performance to rub salt in the wound?
Ivy’s head lolled to the side, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “Fuck, Marcus, you’re so deep. I can feel you everywhere.”
He grunted, hips snapping faster. “You love this cock, don’t you? Say it.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she whimpered. “I love your cock, Daddy. It's all I need.”
The word hit me like a slap. He’d never let me call him that. Said it was weird. Too kinky. But here he was, fucking harder while another woman called him that. Hypocrite. Liar. How many other things did he deny me that he gives her freely?
I must have made a sound because his eyes locked on mine again. “Enjoying the show, Ana?”
Heat flared across my cheeks, but I swallowed it down, letting my fury take over. No more. I'm done being your punchline.
I stormed into the room, every step fueled by rage, and ripped the papers from the envelope.
“Sign these.” My voice was steadier than I felt, cold and cutting.
He barely spared me a glance. His hips didn’t falter, driving into her so hard that made her arch off the bed.
“Already talked to my lawyer,” he panted, teeth clenched with pleasure. “Took you long enough.”
“You’re seriously doing this—now?” I spat, disbelief and fury lacing every word. “Our son is barely in the ground, and you're... this?”
“What better time?” His voice was rough, strained with pleasure as he plunged deeper, completely unconcerned with me. “Life goes on, Ana. For some of us, anyway.”
“Ana...” Ivy finally murmured, her voice lazy and sated, glancing at me like I was an annoying interruption.
Her moans filled the room, each one a knife twisting in my chest, even as caused heat dripping between my legs. Her body arched with every thrust, his grunts mingling with her cries.
Marcus didn’t stop until he spilled inside her, his head thrown back, a low groan tearing from his throat.
Only then did he turn to me, his chest heaving, his cock still glistening as he stood there, shameless.
I gritted my teeth, fury and humiliation warring inside me.
“Want a goodbye fuck?” Marcus drawled, stroking himself lazily like he was proud of the mess he’d made of us—of me.
