Chapter 6

I’ve never been a martyr.

My immediate instinct was to kick down that door, slap Tyler and his mistress across the face, strip them bare, and drag them into the street for everyone to see.

But as those vengeful fantasies flashed through my mind, a chilling question stopped me: *And then what? What do I get out of it?*

I gave five years of my youth to Tyler, standing by him when he had nothing, grinding by his side until everyone groveled before him as "Mr. Reynolds."

If I threw a tantrum now, people would just laugh it off as a wealthy man's wild bachelor phase.

What about me? What would I be left with? A broken heart and the title of a bitter, discarded ex? Was I just supposed to accept that?

Hell no.

I dug my nails fiercely into my palm, forcing my breathing to steady. I looked up at Julian and whispered:

"Cover for me."

Julian gave a sharp nod. He held his own phone to his ear, pretending to be on a call as he swung the door open:

"Sorry man, on the phone with my wife, didn't hear you. What's up?"

At the exact same time, I typed back to Tyler in my usual sweet, docile tone:

[Go grab some dinner, babe. Don't work yourself too hard.]

Outside the door, a text chime sounded from Tyler's pocket. Then his voice came, polite and apologetic:

"Sorry about that. Wrong door. My bad."

Footsteps receded. The moment the latch clicked shut, all my strength vanished, and I slid down against the wall onto the floor.

I couldn't wrap my head around it. He loved me so much. For five years, he had doted on me, cherished me, noticing even when one of my eyes looked slightly bloodshot.

How could a man like that cheat?

While I was still grasping for reasons, the woman's voice drifted through the wall, pitched high and mockingly:

"What are you panicking for? Why would your precious little bride ever come here?"

"We've hooked up here so many times. Has she ever caught us once?"