I shoved Adrian aside, ignoring the shock frozen on his face, and dragged my suitcase into the elevator.
"Remember to sign the papers, Adrian." The doors began to close. "Don't keep Dr. Preston waiting."
Outside the villa complex, I stood on the curb, shivering in the night air. My fingers brushed my cheek. Tender. Hot.
That was the first time Adrian had ever raised a hand against me.
And he had done it for *her*.
My phone felt heavy in my palm. My thumb hovered over my mother's contact. The screen blurred as tears finally threatened to spill.
No.
My parents were elderly. I couldn't burden them with this wreckage.
I hailed a taxi to an apartment my parents had bought for me before the marriage. Small. Dusty. But safe.
The familiar furnishings wrapped around me like a forgotten embrace. The tension that had coiled around my spine finally loosened.
I collapsed onto the sofa and slept.
The next morning, a violent pounding on the door jolted me upright.
I stumbled to the entrance, heart slamming against my ribs. When I opened it, my parents stood there, faces carved with worry.
"Fiona! Did you and Adrian have a fight?"
My mother's anxious eyes shattered what remained of my composure. I threw myself into her arms, the dam breaking.
"Mom." My voice cracked against her shoulder. "I want a divorce."
My father shifted his weight, uncomfortable. "Fiona... Adrian has treated you like a princess for years. Why this sudden tantrum?"
"Yes," my mother added, stroking my hair but pulling back to study my face. "He's sacrificed so much for you. You need to have a conscience, child."
I pulled away, wiping my eyes. The cold reality washed over me like ice water.
"Dad. Mom. It's Adrian. He's changed. He's... he's with someone else. I don't want him anymore."
My father's expression hardened to stone. "Fiona, all men make mistakes! Besides, Adrian already called us. He explained everything. He and that Dr. Preston were working *for you*."
My mother nodded vigorously. "Exactly. A man like Adrian—with your health condition—where will you find another? You *need* him."
So.
He had gotten to them first.
To the world, Adrian Farley was a saint. A martyr who married a sick woman. I was the lucky one.
I was the *burden*.
My parents didn't give me a choice. They packed me and my luggage into their car and drove straight back to the villa.