The Perfect Widow

The three luckiest things a man can get in this lifetime: securing massive investment capital, taking his company public, and having his fat, washed-up wife drop dead early. My perfect husband, Alaric, burst into laughter, raising his glass in front of everyone at the corporate gala.

Seven years together. From college sweethearts to walking down the aisle, we were the flawless couple everyone envied. From our degrees to our careers, from family money to our looks, I always fell just one step short of his perfection.

But he played the devoted partner. Gentle. Attentive. He had never once raised his voice at me.

Until today.

"You idiot. Everyone knows a wish won't come true if you say it out loud."

I brushed the loose dirt off the hem of my dress and spat hard onto his grave.

Chapter 1

I lay motionless on the winding, cloud-choked mountain road, my eyes closed tight. A heavy bird landed right on my stomach. Pitch-black feathers. A sharply hooked beak.

A vulture, patiently waiting for my final breath so it could rip into its feast.

A sudden crack of thunder split the sky. The scavenger flapped its massive wings and shrieked, taking flight.

In the distance, exactly as the thunder roared, a black Porsche plunged off the cliff.

My eyes snapped open. I jerked my head to the side. At the very edge of my vision, dust and smoke billowed up like a thick cloud.

I pushed myself up, my muscles trembling with the effort, and dragged my body to the edge of the road. I craned my neck over the drop. An endless abyss. Thick, rolling black fog, like the mouth of hell itself.

That sleek black car vanished into the suffocating mist, swallowed whole without a single sound.

Dead silence.

No signs of life. No signs of a corpse.

I dug my fingers into the jagged gravel until the sharp stones shredded my palms to a bloody pulp. I bit down hard, a violent shudder ripping through my shoulders, and forced out a jagged laugh. Hot tears slid down my cheeks.

The man inside that car was my husband, Alaric.

That very car was his surprise gift to me for our first wedding anniversary. I still remember the day we picked it up. The saleswoman shot me this look of pure envy, telling me how incredibly lucky I was to bag such a perfect husband. Afterward, Alaric took me for a spin, and we posed for a picture right in front of the hood.

He even posted that exact picture on his social media feed. The caption read:

[ Without your sacrifices behind the scenes, my business empire wouldn't exist today. This sports car is just a tiny fraction of interest on your priceless devotion. ]

And now, Alaric was dead.

Before he died, he built his massive empire, and he kept his wordhe really did leave me with a mountain of wealth. What more could I possibly ask for?

I slumped against the edge of the road. Warm blood trickled down my hairline, blurring my vision in a red haze. That vulture kept circling overhead, as if pissed off I had managed to cheat death. After the thunder passed, heavy rain smashed into me from every direction, pouring out of the cracked sky.

A mess of chaotic footsteps approached. A heavy rain slicker was thrown over my head and shoulders.

"We're the rescue team! Can you hear me? Are you able to walk?" someone shouted over the deafening downpour.

I nodded mechanically. "My husband went over the edge. Him and the car."

The responder froze, then whipped around to bellow at his crew, "She says someone went over!"

The shout echoed down the line. Over the vast, empty mountains and through the roar of the rain, the phrase "Someone went over" bounced back and forth.

Someone nearby muttered under their breath, "Nobody survives a drop like that."

I abruptly slammed my hands over my face. My voice cracked into what sounded like a sob, but beneath my palms, my lips stretched into a massive grin. A cold, heavy rush of euphoria soaked into my bones, chilling me as deeply as the rain.

Rough hands hoisted me up and strapped me onto a stretcher. I lay perfectly still, turning my head to look forward. The rescue crew's neon uniforms were a chaotic splash of bright, glaring colors against the gloom. The storm clouds, the jagged rocks, the mudall the dark, rotting grays and suffocating blackswere finally left behind me.

In the sterile hospital room, Officer Asher sat directly across from my bed.

"How are you holding up physically?" he asked.

"I'll manage," I replied flatly.

"Then, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

I flashed a polite, controlled smile. "Of course not, old classmate."

He paused, his gaze dropping sharply to the notepad in his hands. "The stretch of road where the accident occurred is an old, abandoned logging trail. Theres a perfectly safe interstate highway right nearby. Can you explain why you were out there?"

"Alaric told me he had planned the route. He said the scenery was much better along that trail, and he insisted it wasn't completely abandoned. He was a fantastic driver. I trusted him to keep us safe."

"So you're saying taking that road was entirely his idea?"

"Yes. I still have the text messages on my phone where he suggested it."

"Would you mind showing those to me?" Officer Asher asked.

"Not at all." I unlocked my phone, pulled up the chat log, and handed it over.

He swiped through a few messages before his thumb stopped abruptly. "The contact name you saved him under"

"Eloise's Dad. Eloise is our daughter." I leaned forward slightly, answering before he could finish.

"I have tons of pictures of her on my social media. You should take a look. She's absolutely adorable."

Chapter 2

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit embarrassed. "Sorry, work has been so crazy lately, I haven't even had time to scroll through social media. Who's watching your daughter right now?"

"She's sick. She's in the hospital," I said.

His smile froze. He dropped his gaze to the floor, his voice turning heavy. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. Do you have any other questions?"

He frowned, wrestling with his words for a long moment before finally forcing them out. "Before your husband passed, he took out massive life insurance policies and left behind a staggering estate. You are the primary beneficiary for almost all of it. Were you aware of this?"

I nodded. "I have several policies where he is the beneficiary, too. And Eloise, of course."

Over the years since we got married, Alaric's business had exploded, and with that kind of money came a lot of liabilities. So, he had set up a pile of trusts and insurance policies for himself, for me, and for Eloise.

"Officer Asher, for a family in our tax bracket, having multiple heavy-duty insurance policies is standard procedure, don't you think?"

"Right, of course" He paused, smoothly shifting the topic. "I was just looking through your feed earlier. You have so many pictures together. You two must have had a really strong marriage."

"This trip was supposed to be our seven-year anniversary getaway," I replied.

Alaric and I met in college. Back then, I was a junior drowning in heavy student loans, juggling off-campus shifts just to survive, while he was the golden-boy PhD student, the center of attention in an Ivy League lab.

He was always dropping by to discuss his research papers with the professors. We just bumped into each other enough times that we hit it off. He was brilliant, gorgeous, steady, and so incredibly gentle.

When he started pursuing me, my defenses completely crumbled, and we started dating.

Right as he was wrapping up his doctorate and I was panicking about job hunting, my phone buzzed with a text from him.

[ Baby, a top-tier tech firm in Silicon Valley just reached out to me. They're desperate for scarce AI doctorates like mine. They offered me an astronomical signing package. ]

I was in the middle of firing off my own resumes, but I instantly hit the voice memo button. "That's amazing! I always knew you were the absolute best!"

He chuckled through the speaker. "Let me finish. HR said they'll provide us with a luxury apartment in a high-end Silicon Valley neighborhood, and they'll even fully cover spousal health insurance and all living expenses."

My hand froze on my mouse. "Spousal?" I asked, testing the word.

He let out a soft sigh. "You dummy. I'm proposing to you. How could you not catch that?"

I slapped both hands over my mouth to muffle a scream. The voice memo was on speaker, and all three of my roommates whipped their heads around to stare at me.

When I didn't reply right away, he asked again. "Babe, marry me. Let's build a life together. Let's fight for our future, okay?"

This time, my roommates shrieked right along with me. They squealed about how incredibly lucky I was.

"Rosalind, you hit the ultimate jackpot! Where do you even find a guy who's this hot, brilliant, attentive, loyal, insanely rich, romantic, and actually factors you into his future?!"

Bathed in their waves of pure jealousy, I cupped my flushed cheeks, cleared my throat, and put on a sassy front. "Is this how you propose? Without even a proper ring or a grand gesture?"

His reply popped up instantly:

[ Look down. ]

My roommates and I scrambled to the dorm balcony, shoving each other out of the way. Down below, surrounded by a sea of roses and flickering candles, Alaric was down on one knee, smiling up at me.

I didn't even grab a jacket. I bolted down the stairs in my thin sleepwear, the April breeze biting at my skin.

"Baby, will you marry me?" He popped open the velvet box, his voice impossibly gentle. "You're the only one for me. For the rest of my life."

I locked my eyes on the ring in his hand. It was a solid, flawless diamond, nearly a full carat.

In that split second, a memory of my mother flashed through my mind. She always complained about her cheap, off-brand engagement ring, whining about how the tiny chip of a stone had turned yellow over the years.

"If I could just find a man to buy me a massive rock," she'd sneered back then, "I'd take a beating from him and still smile!"

Without thinking, I reached out my hand.

After barely a year of dating, Alaric locked me down with that single ring. We held each other tight under the stars and the candlelight, wrapped in the gasps and cheers of the envious crowd around us.

Chapter 3

In that moment, my vanity was fed. I closed my eyes and leaned against his chest.

"Baby, my fellowship stipend was only twenty grand this year," he murmured, his fingers slowly brushing through my hair. "With the money I saved from my TA shifts, I had just over thirty. It was only enough for a near-carat."

He pressed a soft kiss to my temple. "I promise I'll make a fortune. I'll upgrade this to a massive rock for you."

I wrapped my arms tighter around his waist. "I don't care about the diamond. I just want your loyalty to be as unbreakable as one."

He pulled me flush against him. "Of course. We're going to be together for the rest of our lives. Nothing will ever separate us."

Right after graduation, I moved straight into the high-end Silicon Valley apartment Alaric's company provided. He pushed me to apply for a top-tier grad school program.

"It's the perfect opportunity, baby. You're so smart, you'll definitely get in. I'll handle all the bills and make the money. You just stay home and focus on prepping for your entrance exams."

"I've got you. Once you get your Master's, we can conquer the corporate world together."

All my friends kept telling me how insanely lucky I was. I didn't have to stress about rent or groceries. I had locked down my Mr. Right early, and he was actually building a future for us.

Scrolling through social media, seeing couples break up over long-distance jobs, or husbands and wives screaming at each other over maxed-out credit cards, or my old classmates hustling themselves to death just to land an interviewI really felt like I had won the lottery.

The three roommates who watched him propose? They were drowning. Roommate A got scammed by a shady landlord and ended up in a sketchy, unlit neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, commuting three hours a day. Meanwhile, I was living in a gated luxury complex, just a ten-minute walk from a high-end shopping plaza.

Roommate B kept striking out at job interviews, finally landing a gig with zero health insurance, only to end up sobbing in the bathroom every week after her boss screamed at her. I just stayed home, studying at my own pace, never having to swallow my pride or panic over a paycheck.

Roommate C moved in with her boyfriend, splitting every single bill down to the cent. If she bought a slightly expensive box of organic berries, he'd mock her for wasting money.

Alaric, on the other hand, routed his entire massive paycheck directly into our joint account. He only kept a meager two-thousand-dollar monthly allowance for himself. He ate at the company cafeteria, so even that allowance went straight into funding our weekend dates.

Despite his insane work hours, hed still research the best Michelin-starred pop-ups or grab tickets to sold-out shows, claiming I needed to de-compress from my study stress. Whenever he scored a massive quarterly bonus, he'd surprise me with perfectly picked-out designer gifts.

And my contribution? I just whipped up a quick breakfast, wiped down the granite counters after he left for the office, ran the vacuum, and took a leisurely afternoon stroll through Whole Foods to pick up organic ingredients for dinner.

He was already killing himself at work; I just wanted him to come home to a spotless house and a hot, nutritious meal. Especially since he was so incredibly considerate of me. I had it so good. What right did I have to be ungrateful?

Sometimes my lower back would ache so badly Id collapse onto the sofa. Id just want to zone out in front of the TV, and before I knew it, Id pass out. By the time I forced my eyes open, it was already time to make another grocery run.

Id walk down the aisles in a total daze, and then the crushing guilt would hit me. "Why was I wasting time watching TV? Alaric is out there bleeding for our future, and Im slacking off on my grad school prep. Im completely useless."

But the house chores were like the dirty dishes piling up in the sinkendless, suffocating, stretching from morning till night with no finish line in sight. Even when I stared at the TV screen, my mind would go blank, drifting off to some empty void I couldn't even name.

That year, I bombed the grad school entrance exams. The night the scores were posted, I curled into a tight ball on the sofa, my nails digging hard into my knees.

"Alaric, I'm so stupid! I'm completely useless!" I choked out between heavy, racking sobs.

"You've already taken on all the bills! You mapped out our entire future perfectly, and I couldn't even pass a single entrance exam! I don't even deserve to breathe the air in this luxury apartment!"

Chapter 4

He pulled me into his arms, gently wiping my tears with a tissue. "Don't say that," he murmured softly. "You're not stupid. If you fail, you just take it again. No big deal."

The next day, he mysteriously took me out. We ended up at a luxury dealership.

A black Porsche. I couldn't tell you the exact model, only that the title was under my name, fully paid in cash for over a hundred grand.

He covered my eyes from behind, his voice buzzing with excitement. "Baby, guess what I got you? I was going to wait until you got your acceptance letter, but for now, consider it a little pick-me-up gift."

He moved his hands. I stared at the sleek sports car and literally jumped for joy.

After snapping a photo with the car, we both posted it on our social feeds. I got around eighty likes; he got over a hundred and twenty. The comments were flooded with pure envy.

Even my mother left a rare comment on his post:

[ My son-in-law is so successful! ]

But the photo I posted on my own page never got a single like from her.

Alaric cupped my face in his hands. "Babe, the second you get into grad school, I'm blasting it all over my feed. I want everyone to know how brilliant my wife is."

He was right. To be worthy of him, if I could just pass that exam it would make everything perfect.

Just like that, another year slipped by. During that time, Alaric became the golden boy at his firm. He scored a massive promotion, and his compensation package skyrocketed.

He grew increasingly busy, often grinding at the office until late into the night. Whenever he dragged himself home starving, Id frantically shove my prep books aside to cook him a meal. He never uttered a single word of complaint.

Until one day, a severe stomach ulcer flared up, dropping him to the floor in agony.

His coworkers rushed him to the ER. The doctor told us his erratic eating habits were destroying his stomach lining.

The crushing guilt hit me right then. From that day on, every single afternoon, I meticulously prepped healthy meals, personally drove to his towering CBD office building, and punctually dropped off a lunchbox packed with an organic salad and pour-over coffee right at the reception desk.

After a while, Aubrey, the young receptionist at his company, started chatting with me. "I'm so jealous of Alaric. He has such a perfect, devoted wife."

I flashed a shy smile, wiping my nervous hands on my coat. "Everyones actually jealous of me for marrying him. Hes so brilliant and capable. Nothing like me. I cant even pass a basic test."

Aubrey grabbed my hands enthusiastically. "Alaric even said hes bringing you on board the second you get your Master's! We'll practically be coworkers!"

I listened in silence. A twist of vanity spiked in my chest, quickly swallowed by a suffocating wave of inadequacy.

On the subway ride home, I managed to snag a rare empty seat. I leaned against the window and aimlessly scrolled through my social media feed.

The friend who got scammed by the landlord finally settled down, managing to rent a tiny studio downtown. She made about four thousand a month, and rent ate up half of it.

The friend whose career was tanking had somehow ended up slinging drinks at Starbucks. Like me, she had majored in biological sciencesa solid degree from a respectable university. I couldn't fathom how she ended up sinking to that point.

As for my unlucky friend with the cheapskate boyfriend, she finally dumped him. But the guy actually demanded an itemized spreadsheet to settle three years' worth of dating expenses. He even tried to charge her a dollar a piece for the homemade tacos his mother made.

Compared to them, I had to be the lucky one, right?

They were always texting me, complaining about how exhausted they were, telling me how insanely jealous they were of my life. So I had to be the lucky one. Right?

What right did I have to be ungrateful?

My phone buzzed in my palm, snapping me out of my reflection in the dark glass. I checked the new notification.

It was my old college professor. She said she was cleaning out her office and stumbled upon a photo of us, snapping a picture of it to send my way.

In the picture, she was holding a bouquet while I stood proudly right beside her. Behind us hung a banner celebrating the success of an academic symposium. Back then, our faces glowed with pure, unshakeable ambition.

Another message popped up from her:

[ Rosalind, what are you busy with these days? ]

A sharp pang of guilt hit my chest. I typed back:

[ Professor, I'm studying for my grad school entrance exams. ]

[ That's wonderful! I always thought you had a real gift. I hope our paths cross again in academia! ]

I didn't reply. My fingers trembled as I smashed the lock button, plunging the screen into darkness.

Chapter 5

The passenger next to me handed over a napkin. Only then did I realize tears were streaming down my face.

My phone buzzed. Alaric sent a photo. It was the lunchbox I had meticulously prepared, sitting perfectly on his desk. He wrote:

[ The guys smelled the food and came begging for a bite of the steak. Not a chance. Baby, they are dying of jealousy over me. ]

I wiped my face, texted back three heart emojis, and stood up as the subway announced my stop. We were the couple everyone envied. What right did I have to be ungrateful?

My second attempt at the grad school entrance exams. Another total failure.

In just two short years, Alaric and I had amassed a million dollars in liquid cash. And I hadn't earned a single cent of it.

In the dead of night, I stared blindly at my phone screen, switching back and forth between my abysmal test scores and our massive bank account balance. Some people were building empires in their twenties. Others were worthless.

For the very first time, the thought crept into my mind: "I am not good enough for Alaric."

But he just pulled me into a gentle embrace, murmuring into my hair. "Stop talking like that, baby. You're my rock behind the scenes. If I didn't have you managing our finances, I would have blown all this cash ages ago."

I buried my face in his shoulder, soaking his shirt. "I couldn't pass. I've let so many people down. My professors, you"

He patted my back smoothly, without a trace of resentment in his voice. "No, I never should have pushed you to take those exams. I shouldn't have put that kind of pressure on you. Maybe you're just not cut out for academia anymore."

"How about this, baby," he whispered. "Let me take care of you for the rest of your life. You can go get afternoon tea, get your nails done, chase your favorite bands, travel the world. Go do everything that makes you happy."

"I'm going to turn you into the most spoiled princess on earth."

I stared up at him through blurred vision. His smile, his flawless featuresevery single thing about him made me want to shrink away in shame.

That night, I called my mother to tell her I failed again.

On the other end of the line, she sneered sharply. "If you can't even pass a stupid test, you might as well go flip burgers at a fast-food joint! The neighbor's daughter is already working on Wall Street and bought her parents a new car."

"And you? I should be thanking God I don't have to use my welfare checks to feed you. Your father read plenty of books, and look what good it did him! Read himself stupid, and never saw a dime of real money!"

Desperate to prove I wasn't completely worthless, I cut her off. "Alaric said he'll take care of me. He's going to fully support me."

She let out a dry, mocking laugh. "Oh, please. Ask yourself if you even deserve that."

That single sentence sparked a bitter defiance in my chest. I leaned fully into the role of a stay-at-home wife.

Honestly, once I dropped the exam prep, my days became effortless. Aside from tossing together breakfast and dinner, and running the vacuum every other day, I could lounge on the sofa guilt-free, binge-watching shows, doomscrolling on my phone, or maxing out my online shopping carts.

Alaric's career skyrocketed. By our third year of marriage, he was already a mid-level executive at his firm. He treated me with the same gentle devotion, showering me with designer gifts and surprises. Whenever he had a free weekend, he flew us out for luxury vacations, constantly bending over backward to keep me smiling.

The money he transferred into our joint account kept growing. At first, it was ten grand a month. Then thirty, fifty. Eventually, it morphed into massive, multi-million dollar lump-sum transfers at the end of every fiscal year. He explained that at his executive level, he was strictly salaried, with wildly fluctuating bonuses and performance payouts tied to different project metrics.

Occasionally, he would try to talk to me about work, but I shut down. I didn't want to hear it. It terrified me.

I had never stepped foot in a real corporate office. I didn't know the first thing about stock options, how trust funds operated, or what those Wall Street elites were whispering about at their closed-door banquets. I knew absolutely nothing. I was an idiot.

My circle of old friends steadily shrank into nothing.

I heard the friend who was always struggling with rent had her lease bumped from two grand to nearly three. But her salary had almost doubled to hit six figures, too.

The friend who had been slinging drinks at Starbucks finally transitioned into a stable career track. Even though it wasn't in her major, she had secured full medical benefits and a solid 401k, and she actually got to clock out on time.

Chapter 6

As for the poor girl who wasted three years dating the cheapskate who itemized his mother's homemade tacos? After that messy breakup, she took her miserable savings, borrowed some cash from her mom, moved back to her hometown, and bought a used food truck to sell tacos. Business was actually booming. Honestly, it was a little darkly hilarious.

It felt like everyone else's life was moving forward. Everyone but me.

In the dead of night, I lay wide awake, staring at our bank account balance on my phone screen. I dragged my finger across the glass, counting the digits over and over. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven Seven digits.

And then, one day, that seven turned into an eight. Over ten million dollars.

It was our fourth year together. My third year as a stay-at-home wife.

Inside a top-tier Michelin-starred restaurant, Alaric swirled the Romanee-Conti in his wine glass and slid a sleek black Centurion card across the table toward me. "Darling, my company just closed a massive, multi-million-dollar Series A funding round. We have a massive mansion in the most exclusive neighborhood, and a Porsche sitting in the garage. You are practically the most envied stay-at-home wife in the entire city. Are you satisfied?"

I stared at him. The crystal stemware trembled slightly in my grip.

How could I not be satisfied? What more could I possibly want?

I took a slow, deep breath, testing the waters. "Alaric, I'm not happy. I don't know why, but I'm just not happy."

Maybe it was the endless, suffocating loop of mindless chores. Maybe it was the crushing monotony of my daily routine. Maybe it was the lingering failure of bombing my grad school exams. Or maybe maybe it was just that he was too good to me.

So perfect that it made my skin crawl with an unnameable anxiety.

The smile froze on his handsome face, then slowly melted away, leaving behind a flawless mask of concern. "I'm so sorry, baby. Have I been too caught up with work? Have I been neglecting you? I was just trying to build a bulletproof safety net for our future."

That look of pure guilt on his face felt like a slap. I quickly shook my head, forcing the corners of my mouth up. "I'm just overthinking. You're killing yourself at work. Don't listen to me rambling."

He reached across the table, covering my trembling hand with his warm palm. "Babe, I've read articles about how isolating it can be for stay-at-home wives. Do you want to try finding a light, easy job? Just to get you out of the house?"

I snapped my head up, a rush of pure gratitude flooding my chest. He was too good. So good it made me want to shrink into nothing.

The job hunt was a brutal wake-up call. I had zero corporate experience. Just a basic bachelor's degree. I was years out of college, carrying a massive gap on my resume from playing housewife, and I hadn't even had a kid yeta walking red flag for HR departments.

Stepping out of my luxury bubble and trying to merge onto the corporate highway, I realized the world had sped up into a blur, and I had been left choking on the exhaust.

For three agonizing months, I fired off hundreds of resumes and sat through dozens of humiliating interviews. Rejection after rejection.

For the very first time, a flicker of genuine disappointment crossed Alaric's face. "Baby, I told you back then. You really should have pushed through with grad school."

I flinched, my stomach dropping. That dark cloud of memory suffocated me, even though I couldn't even pinpoint exactly what had triggered that massive depressive spiral back then.

Catching my reaction, Alaric's expression instantly shifted back to deep apology. "I blame myself. I should have pushed you harder to stick with it. Baby, honestly, I don't need you to bring in a paycheck. I just want you to be happy."

The more he spoke, the colder my hands got. My sweet, perfect husband had no idea. I wasn't being picky. I wasn't aiming for the C-suite. The ugly truth was, I couldn't even land a minimum-wage desk job.

My old friends told me I was insane. Spoiled. Acting out for nothing. I hit financial freedom in my twenties. I was a wealthy wife with a brilliant, totally devoted executive husband. What else could I possibly want?

Did I think they enjoyed hustling for pennies? Getting their coffees crushed on the packed morning subways? Grinding at their cubicles until their chests literally ached?

"You're just looking for things to complain about," they sneered over text.

After a while, I started wondering if I really was just greedy. Selfish. Millions of women would kill for my life, for my marriage. What right did I have to be depressed?

Chapter 7

The friend who finally clawed her way into a stable job? Her credit cards were completely maxed out. She was facing immediate eviction by her landlord. Wasting away from the stress of a twenty-thousand-dollar mountain of overdue bills, she finally swallowed her pride and begged me for a loan.

My other friend, the one running the taco truck, got hit hard by the city lockdowns. She couldn't make ends meet and also asked to borrow twenty grand just to survive the month.

When I transferred them the cash, every single one of them told me how insanely jealous they were of my life.

They said the real world was a brutal grind, that hustling to survive as a woman was a waking nightmare. "I'm so jealous of you. You married the perfect guy and secured your whole future."

I stared at my banking app. Minus forty thousand dollars. The massive balance barely even twitched.

Forty grand wasn't even enough to cover one of the designer bags Alaric casually tossed my way. Maybe he was afraid I'd die of boredom. He was constantly showering me with haute couture and limited-edition purses, telling me to dress up and go have fun.

He even got me a VIP membership at a top-tier medical spa. Just the basic anti-aging treatments cost tens of thousands of dollars a year.

Inside that high-end private spa, I met a new circle of friends. They were all just like me: trophy wives.

Between the mindless gossip and complimentary champagne, even they envied me. "Your husband is young, gorgeous, and treats you like absolute royalty. What are you complaining about? My husband is screwing around all over town. He doesn't even come home anymore!"

"Look, men are men. Who cares if he comes home, as long as his black card does? You've got it made. What else do you want?"

I shifted awkwardly in my plush robe. "Actually I want to find a job."

An older woman who rarely spoke let out a soft chuckle. She lowered her magazine and turned to look at me. "Can you handle being an administrative assistant? If you can, come try out at my firm. I like your vibe."

I actually landed the job. When I rushed home to share the news, Alaric acted thrilled for me. He even picked out a tailored blazer set for my first day.

But less than a month into the job, I got pregnant.

A few weeks prior, the condom had broken. I took Plan B immediately, but somehow, I still got knocked up.

Alaric played the guilty, apologetic husband perfectly, pulling me close. "Baby, maybe this child is a gift from God. Let's just keep her."

Tears spilled down my cheeks. I told him I was terrified.

He held me tight, repeating the same promise he had made for years: he would treat me like a queen, and his devotion would never waver.

When the woman from the spa found out I was pregnant, she fired me on the spot and told me to pack my things.

Ten months later, I gave birth to Eloise.

Alaric picked out her name. He said he hoped I would always understand his heart.

That was our fifth year together. My fourth year as a stay-at-home wife.

My first year as a mother.

And the third year of Alaric's affair.

Across the sterile hospital table, Officer Asher's pen froze. The metal tip pierced right through his notepad.

"Affair?" He snapped his head up. "Is that an assumption, or?"

"Hilarious, isn't it? Turns out he was screwing around by our second year of marriage, and I didn't see a damn thing." I let out a dry laugh.

"So, you" He narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping into a hardened, suspicious register.

"You think I murdered my husband to cash in on a massive life insurance payout?" I smiled.

"You know how this works. When an accident happens, the spouse is always suspect number one," he stated flatly.

"I should know? I didn't." I paused, holding his gaze dead-on. "I didn't kill him."

"Rosalind, why should I believe you?"

"Hmm" I tilted my head, flashing a playful grin. "For old times' sake?"

"Take this seriously!" he snapped, slamming his notepad shut. "You've been smiling this entire time!"

Not exactly the picture of a grieving widow.

I shrugged. "What's the big deal? You men always say your ultimate jackpot is securing massive capital, taking your company public, and having your washed-up wife drop dead early, right?"

He stiffened, letting out a heavy, defeated sigh. He stood up and walked toward the door. "Get some rest. We'll pick this up later."

"Officer Asher." I waved my phone in the air. "Actually, right before the accident, we had a massive fight in the car. I recorded the whole thing. Want to hear it?"

He stopped dead in his tracks. Slowly, he turned around, walked straight back to his chair, and sat down.

Chapter 8

I shoved the phone back across the table. My eyes locked onto his thumb as he hit play.

From the speaker, Alaric's voice cut through the sterile room. "When did you find out?"

"Around our fifth anniversary," my recorded voice replied flatly.

He dropped his devoted-husband mask. A mocking scoff ripped through the audio. "I'm genuinely impressed. You actually managed to bite your tongue and play dumb for two whole years? Why?"

"Sneaking around gathering evidence to sue me? Or are you banking on a messy divorce to split my entire business empire in half?"

"Because you are Eloise's father. You're a disgusting excuse for a husband, but you're at least a passable dad."

"A disgusting excuse for a husband? Rosalind, don't make me laugh." His tone turned venomous.

"Have you looked in a mirror lately? Have you seen your thinning hair? The dark spots on your face? The rolls of fat spilling over your waistline?"

"The fact that I can even stomach looking at you, let alone play the role of a devoted, exclusive husbandyou should be down on your knees thanking God for your dumb luck."

"Do you honestly think Eloise lives in luxury because of you?"

"Do you actually believe those society wives invite you to their country clubs because they respect you?"

"Do you really think your trailer-trash mother gets to parade around town flashing designer brands because of anything you achieved?"

On the recording, not a single sob or scream followed his tirade. Only a suffocating, dead silence.

Then, his tone flipped on a dime, slipping effortlessly right back into his sickeningly sweet manipulation. "Baby, stop acting crazy. What did I ever do wrong?"

"Nothing. You're flawless. I'm just not good enough for you. I'm letting you off the hook. We're getting a di"

"Baby, you'd better swallow that word right now." His voice dropped an octave, chilling and deadly serious. "After everything we've been through I really don't want to shove you out of this car."

Officer Asher's knuckles turned stark white around the edges of the phone. His jaw clenched tight. "Is he"

I met his gaze dead-on. "You heard him perfectly. He wanted me dead. He took me down that abandoned logging trail for the sole purpose of murdering me."

The playback suddenly erupted into violent static. A sickening thud echoed through the speaker, followed by Alaric's fading shout. Then, pure, dead quiet.

Asher stared blankly at the dark screen for a long, heavy moment. "You jumped."

"I did. The exact second he threatened to push me."

I had thrown myself out of a speeding Porsche. The impact slammed the breath out of my lungs. My body rag-dolled across the asphalt, gravel shredding my skin until half of my torso slipped right off the sheer drop.

My arms shot out. My bleeding fingers locked in a death grip over the jagged edge of the cliff.

I bit down on my lip until I tasted iron. I strained every muscle in my back, dragging my dead weight upward. My right heel kicked out, slipping out of my pump. I glanced down. The designer shoe plunged into the abyss, swallowed instantly by the black fog.

The sky above me was a suffocating canvas of storm clouds. A massive vulture materialized out of nowhere, its wings cutting through the heavy air as it circled lower and lower, locking onto my scent. If the rain hit the dirt before I crested the ledge, the mud would send me sliding straight to hell.

The roar of that engine still vibrated in my eardrums. It never faded. That scavenger kept spiraling above my head. Relentless.

My mind blacked out the climb. The next thing I registered was the rough gravel pressing into my cheek. Hot blood poured from my scalp, blinding me. My fingernails were completely peeled back, raw and pulsing with agony. But my chest was heaving. I was drawing breath.

The vulture landed heavily right on my stomach. I lay there, staring dead-eyed into the stormy sky, my body entirely limp. And then, that sleek black Porsche vaulted over the edge.

Only then did the storm break. Only then did the rain fall.

A sharp clack snapped me back to the hospital room. Asher set the phone down on the metal table. "He planned to kill you, but his brakes failed?"

I ignored his question completely. "Would you call that karma?"

When he just pressed his lips into a tight line, a low laugh vibrated in my chest. I waved a dismissive hand toward the door. "You should go. I'm exhausted."

Seven years of history is a suffocating weight to carry. His violent death. My bloody rebirth. Our seven-year marriage, our beautiful daughter, his filthy little mistress. The absolute reckoning we each brought down on the other. Every last rotting detail had to be dragged into the light and judged.

After Asher left, I sank deep into the hospital mattress. The heavy pull of pain meds finally dragged me under.

I slipped into a long, suffocating dream.

I dreamed of Alaric. I dreamed of the very beginning.

The first time I ever laid eyes on him, right outside the university science building. He was crouched by the manicured hedges, his broad shoulders hunched defensively. A desperate, agonizing meow tore through the quiet campus air, coming straight from his chest.

I hurried closer. Cradled securely against his shirt was a tiny, bloodied kitten, shivering violently. I dropped to my knees right across from him. I had always been a sucker for strays.

He looked up, his dark eyes brimming with gentle concern. "I was just heading to the professor's office. I saw someone chuck a garbage bag onto the curb. Walked over when I heard the crying, ripped it open, and found this little guy beaten half to death"

Chapter 9

My hands shook, hot tears blurring my vision. "That's sick! Whoever did this deserves to rot in hell!"

Alaric fumbled slightly, digging a pack of tissues out of his coat pocket. "Hey, don't cry. Let's just get the kitten to the vet first."

Just like that, we saved the little stray. We named him Lucky.

On the drive back to campus from the animal hospital, I wiped my face and glanced over. "By the way, let me Venmo you for half the vet bill."

He shook his head, keeping his eyes firmly on the road. "Even if you hadn't shown up, I still would have saved him."

"Well, let me thank you on Lucky's behalf, then."

"If you really want to thank me, grab lunch with me tomorrow." He paused, shooting me a quick look. "I was going to say dinner, but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

I flushed slightly but nodded. "Sure. My treat."

"Didn't expect a senior PhD guy like me to get treated to a massive meal by a junior." He flashed a warm, brilliant smile, effortlessly joking with me.

I couldn't help but smile back, the heavy gloom of the afternoon instantly melting away in his presence.

The next day, I actually had to cancel. My professor suddenly invited me to a mentoring lunch, so I texted Alaric to apologize for bailing.

His reply popped up instantly:

[ What a coincidence. My advising professor just invited me to lunch, too. Was just about to tell you. ]

That was the day I found out Alaric was the star PhD candidate under my exact professor. At the table, the professor practically played matchmaker. Alaric just listened with that signature polite smile, making sure no one felt awkward.

After that, he officially started pursuing me.

Once Lucky fully recovered, we adopted him together. Alaric treated that cat like royalty, spoiling him with treats and expensive toys. Lucky was an absolute menace, constantly scratching up the furniture, but Alaric never once lost his temper.

Later, when I got pregnant, my bitter mother moved in temporarily to help out. She screamed about Lucky shedding on her clothes and threatened to drag the stray to the animal shelter to have him euthanized. It was Alaric who stepped up and blocked her.

He stood firmly between her and the cat. "Mom, Rosalind and I practically owe our marriage to Lucky. He's her whole world. He stays."

My son-in-law's word carried a million times more weight than mine ever did. My mother scowled and backed off, never mentioning the shelter again.

Until I was five months pregnant. That was the day Lucky died.

Alaric had taken the morning off to drive me to my OB-GYN appointment. When we unlocked the front door, we found Lucky stuffed inside an empty Amazon box. It was an absolute bloodbath.

My mother stood there, totally indifferent. She claimed she caught Lucky stealing a can of tuna, so she smacked him over the head with the broom handle. She said his fur puffed up, he scrambled frantically around the living room, let out a screech, and just dropped dead.

The shock sent me into severe early contractions. I nearly miscarried right there in the hallway. For the very first time, Alaric absolutely lost his mind. He packed my mother's bags and threw her out of the house.

After that, I was placed on strict bed rest. Alaric took a massive leave of absence from his executive job just to take care of me.

But during those months, my mental state shattered. My hair fell out in clumps. My entire body swelled up, I packed on over thirty pounds, and angry purple stretch marks tore across my stomach.

I spent night after night wide awake, silently weeping into my pillow. The second I closed my eyes, I saw Luckys mangled little body. The second I opened them, I saw my ruined, swollen feet and my scarred skin.

Alaric stayed awake till dawn just to coax me to sleep. He bathed me, clipped my toenails, massaged stretch-mark oil into my belly He handled every single exhausting task himself.

I was a raw nerve. The slightest inconvenience triggered massive meltdowns. He was physically and mentally drained from dealing with me, but he never once raised his voice. I hated myself for it, but I couldn't stop.

The pregnancy hormones turned my moods violently erratic. I constantly used Lucky's death as an excuse to scream at him.

Eventually, he hit his breaking point. Terrified that keeping Lucky's old things around was just triggering my trauma, he quietly threw the cat toys away.

When I noticed they were missing, I went ballistic. I screamed some of the most vicious, unforgivable things at him. At first, he just stood there and took it in silence. But then, he broke.

He dropped to the floor, his broad shoulders shaking, tears streaming down his face.

"Baby, it kills me to see you like this," he choked out. "But I'm so exhausted. I'm so exhausted I just want to die."

I froze. My hands clamped hard over my pregnant belly, my teeth chattering uncontrollably as a freezing chill ripped through me.

His eyes were bloodshot. Tears tracked through the heavy exhaustion lining his face, leaving behind a terrifying desperation.

Later that night, I was changing the sheets when I found a bottle of heavy prescription sleeping pills stashed right under Alaric's pillow.

My blood ran cold. I spent the entire night curled into a tight ball in the dark, my chest heaving with silent sobs. He had sacrificed absolutely everything for me, and my toxic insanity had practically driven him to suicide!

Chapter 10

But the very next morning, he still wore that gentle smile, bringing me a breakfast tray. "I'm so sorry, baby. Did I terrify you last night?"

I stared at him. The deep, bruised bags under his sunken eyes. His cracked, bleeding lips. The way his jaw and cheekbones had severely hollowed out.

I threw myself into his arms, burying my face in his chest. "Alaric, I'm so sorry! Marrying me was the biggest mistake of your life!"

"Baby, I don't care what anyone else thinks about you. I don't care what you turn into. I will love you forever."

I didn't dare to think about it. What did other people think of me? What had I actually turned into? I clamped my eyes shut.

He had personally mapped out a blueprint for us to conquer the world together, and my sheer stupidity and laziness had burned it to ash. He pushed me to step out into the real world, into a career, and I completely wrecked that, too. Even the stray cat we adopted together died a brutal death solely because of my toxic, trailer-trash family.

I screamed at myself in the silent confines of my mind: "Rosalind, what the hell is wrong with you? Deep down, what more could you possibly want?"

Lucky's death left a massive, gaping hole in my chest, and Alaric tried absolutely everything to patch it. One afternoon, he walked through the door holding a stunning Persian kitten with eyes like brilliant green emeralds.

"Baby, I was wrong to throw Lucky's things away," he said softly, setting the kitten down. "Let this little guy keep you company from now on, okay?"

I sat frozen on the edge of the bed, feeling like a convicted criminal. I was terrified to even reach out. "I'm scared I'm going to ruin him, too"

"How could you? You took such perfect care of Lucky." He paused, his expression softening further. "Plus, he gets to grow up right alongside our baby."

My hand drifted down on its own, resting over my swollen, scarred, violently purple stretch marks. Right beneath that ugly surface, a tiny heartbeat pounded away.

After Eloise was born, Alaric outright quit his lucrative executive job. His endless days off to take care of me had already pissed off the higher-ups. They constantly blew up his phone in the dead of night, demanding he fix project crises. He used to slip out of bed, grab his laptop in the dark, and work on the living room sofa just so he wouldn't wake me.

He told me he was launching his own startup. He insisted that no corporate title mattered more than Eloise and me.

"Baby, my parents passed away a long time ago," he would always say, pulling me close. "You and Eloise are my entire world."

In the early days of his startup, he grinded relentlessly. He left before dawn, dragged himself home past midnight, and sometimes practically collapsed in the hallway, reeking of expensive liquor from client dinners.

He paid an exorbitant hourly rate to hire a professional, full-time certified nanny to take care of Eloise and me. But I couldn't bring myself to trust a stranger, and I absolutely did not dare let my mercenary mother anywhere near her.

After the birth, I physically felt the wrongness settling into my bones. Sometimes, staring at Eloise's delicate, flawless face, I felt a suffocating mix of pure love and raw hatred.

When she slept soundly, she looked so terrifyingly fragile. Her tiny, bird-like neck felt like it could snap under a single, tight grip.

When she wailed, she looked like a monster. She had acted as a parasite inside my body, draining my blood and bone marrow just to grow her soft hair and sharp little nails.

Sometimes, while nursing her, I'd zone out, staring blankly at the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. Alaric loved a good penthouse view. From the 29th floor, the entire glittering city sprawled out beneath us.

I just wanted to clutch Eloise to my chest and vault right through the glass.

The sour stench of dirty diapers permeated the bedroom. Eloise shrieked at the top of her lungs. The alarm clock on the nightstand blared relentlessly, reminding me to choke down my postpartum vitamins. Someone pounded on the front door to deliver a package.

And Eloise just kept sucking. My breasts throbbed with a sharp, blinding agony. I felt exactly like a lifeless carton of milk, violently squeezed through a clogged straw.

I locked my dead eyes on that massive window. I stared down the terrifying drop for a long, heavy eternity.

But I couldn't pull the trigger. Eloise and I were Alaric's entire universe. If we splattered onto the pavement, what would happen to him?

Occasionally, when he stumbled home late from networking dinners, he would wrap his arms tightly around my waist, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

"Baby," he'd slur softly. "Without you, building this empire means absolutely nothing."

His startup took off, but the massive success dragged him deeper into the grind. He already had severe stomach ulcers, and the endless stream of scotch and late-night client dinners only made it worse. I had no right to act insane and add to his massive pile of stress. I had no right to be ungrateful.

It sounds brutally ironic, but after giving birth to Eloise, it hit me like a physical blow: I was a ship drifting without an anchor. My trailer-trash family was never a safe harbor, and the suffocating tide of this marriage had already dragged me too far out to sea.

Chapter 11

Sometimes, the suffocating, deadening routine would suddenly crack, and Id snap back to reality right in the middle of a chore.

It felt like the exact second I snapped a fresh diaper onto Eloise, the sun vanished. The exact second I shoved dirty clothes into the washing machine, the front door clicked open, signaling Alaric was home. The exact second I scrubbed the grease off the final dinner plate, the entire day was completely gone.

I would stand there, completely blank, having no earthly idea what I had just been doing for the last six hours. The horrifying part was looking over my shoulder. Eloise had already smashed her pureed carrots all over the hardwood, and a plastic minefield of toys blanketed the entire living room.

The heavy oak door swung open. Alaric stepped inside, sweeping his gaze over the absolute disaster zone. A heavy sigh pushed past his lips. He dropped his briefcase and knelt down, his broad shoulders slumped with exhaustion, mechanically picking up the blocks.

I hovered next to him, my hands twitching nervously, feeling like a convicted criminal. "Go eat. I'll get this."

"I've got it. Go rest." His voice was low, flat. His eyes never left the floor.

A cold spike of panic hit my chest. "Just go eat"

He stopped moving. His dark eyes slowly dragged up to meet mine, entirely hollow. "Rosalind. Where's the food? Did you make dinner?"

And I just stood there, staring blankly at the unplugged slow cooker on the counter.

"I'm sorry. I'll make something right now," I stammered.

"Stop apologizing, Rosalind. I'm not blaming you."

I froze. "What did you just call me?"

"Rosalind."

"You always call me"

"Rosalind, snap out of it. You're a mother now."

He cut me off with absolute, chilling calm. He stepped around me into the kitchen, tore open a box of frozen microwave pasta, and shoved it straight into the microwave.

Inside the massive, echoing luxury house, the only sound was the low, mechanical humming of the appliance.

The silence pressed down on my lungs until I physically couldn't pull in a breath.

I swallowed hard. "Do you not love me anymore?"

He didn't even turn around. "Stop overthinking. Go lie down."

The tense silence shattered. Eloise let out a sudden, ear-piercing shriek.

Alaric immediately pivoted away from the counter. He quickly mixed a bottle of formula and walked over to scoop her up.

When Eloise was first born, I nursed her. But eventually, the severe postpartum depression dried up my milk supply. Once we switched her to formula, her stomach constantly rejected it. She wailed from dawn till dusk.

I snapped. I marched up right behind him and ripped the plastic bottle straight out of his hand. "Alaric, what the hell is that attitude?!"

He stiffened, slowly straightening his posture. He just stared at me, his face an unreadable mask.

"I gave birth to her!" I shrieked, my voice cracking violently. "If I say she doesn't drink this, she doesn't drink it!"

Eloise screamed until her tiny face turned purple, her vocal cords completely strained.

Alaric's jaw muscles feathered. The frustration radiated off him, but he tightly controlled his volume. "You're terrifying her. Go to sleep. Baby, just go to sleep."

I didn't want to sleep! I didn't want to sleep!

Or maybe maybe I just wanted to close my eyes. And never open them again.

My knees buckled. I collapsed onto the hardwood floor, grabbing handfuls of my own hair as a tremor ripped through my spine.

When my hands finally slid down, thick, dead clumps of my own dull hair fell from between my fingers. I jerked my hands back up, frantically pressing my fingertips against my scalp. The hairline was receding. Bald, rough patches met my skin.

"Alaric, look!" I choked out, my chest heaving. "Look at me! Is there something wrong with me? I'm sick. I must be sick!"

He ignored me. He kept rocking Eloise against his chest until her wailing finally died down into hiccuping sobs. Only then did he slowly lower his gaze to me.

"Baby," he whispered, his voice entirely drained. "Are you really trying to drive me to suicide?"

I didn't know. My chest felt like it had been ripped completely open.

Maybe this entire life was a massive mistake from day one. I had no business being a wife. And I absolutely didn't deserve to be a mother.

Looking back, Alaric actually tried to patch the massive cracks in our marriage. Once I was cleared by my doctor, he tried to initiate sex a few times. Even though his eyes were completely dead, void of any real desire.

The skin on my stomach hung in loose, dead folds, the purple stretch marks glaring back at me in the mirror. My breasts were swollen and raw, mapped with terrifying, thick blue veins.

I recoiled every time he reached for me. I was absolutely convinced my entire body reeked of sour milk and stale blood. I disgusted myself. Every time I coughed or sneezed too hard, my bladder would leak. Whenever it happened, Id shrink away like a rat, tiptoeing out of the room to hide.

How could any man look at this ruined body and feel a single shred of attraction?

Alarics hand brushed over my thinning, dead hair. The exact same gentle motion from years ago.

"I'm sorry, baby," he murmured. "It's not that you aren't attractive. I'm just utterly exhausted."

I didn't say a single word. I just rolled over, giving him my back.

Chapter 12

He was a terrible liar and an even worse actor. My body had lost all its feminine appealhis dead eyes told me that much without him having to say a single word.

Sometimes, my mind drifted back to the very beginning of our relationship. Back then, honestly, I didn't even love him that deeply. From day one, I wasn't head over heels for Alaric. He was just too brilliant, too attentive, and his pursuit was so aggressively overwhelming that I just caved and said yes.

But now

Now, stripped of my youth and looks, having completely bombed my grad school exams, and without a single day of real work experience under my belt, I had devolved into nothing more than a parasite locked inside his gilded cage, entirely dependent on him for my survival