"Big Sister is angry, isn't she?" she cooed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I thought having a baby might make Evan look at you a few more times. But now that the child's gone... what leverage do you have left?"

She smiled smugly, basking in victory.

I looked at them and felt nothing but dry, bitter amusement.

Compete? What was there to compete for?

Over the years, Evan had played the field with reckless abandon. His companions changed like the seasons—tall, short, curvy, slender. None lasted.

Bonnie wasn't the first. She wouldn't be the last.

But today, looking at her face, I noticed something I'd never let myself see. She looked exactly like me when I was younger.

A strange curiosity took hold.

"Evan," I asked quietly. "If we divorce, will you marry Bonnie? Bring her into the family?"

Evan's hand froze.

The cruel smirk on his face deepened. He tightened his grip on my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"My dear wife, what nonsense are you spouting? Divorce?" His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "Impossible. As I've said before—the position of Mrs. Delgado belongs to you. Only you."

Years ago, he'd said those same words.

Back then, we were young and foolishly in love, determined to defy the world. He'd stood before me like a shield against his elite family's disapproval and declared:

"Only Alice Henson will ever be Mrs. Delgado. Anyone in Harbor City—anyone in this family—who dares disrespect her answers to me."

Time had warped that promise into a curse.

Seeing my lack of reaction, Evan tapped my cheek sharply, eyes dancing with malice. "Angry?"

He leaned closer, breath hot against my ear. "Good. I love seeing you angry. Your misery, your heartbreak, your fury—it's the only thing that brings me joy."

I met his gaze steadily. Those eyes, once so gentle, were now pools of stagnant venom. One misunderstood conversation years ago had turned him into this—fueling a campaign of torment that consumed half my life.

But what did I actually do wrong?

I offered him a calm, hollow smile.

"Why would I be angry? Don't flatter yourself, Evan. I stopped loving you a long time ago."

I stopped loving him the night of his first betrayal. The night he cast me aside for Bonnie Pruitt.

I had been pathetic then—crying, begging, humiliating myself. Heavily pregnant, I traveled halfway across the country just to catch him in the act.