I went downstairs. For the first time in years, I didn't make breakfast. Didn't tidy the living room. Instead, I moved fast—packed my essentials, then pulled the memory cards from the surveillance cameras.
I'd installed hidden cameras in the living room and entryway ages ago, a security precaution. I'd never thought twice about them. Now they were the most critical evidence I had.
I walked out the front door and drove straight to a law firm. I hired an attorney to draft divorce papers, tucked my prenatal exam records safely away, then headed to the hospital to consult a specialist about contact allergies.
The doctor couldn't have been more definitive. Allergic reactions triggered by contact with the opposite sex were extraordinarily rare. Even in documented cases, the patient would never be immune to just one specific man. And the idea of "desensitizing" through intimate physical contact? Medically absurd. The entire premise violated basic science.
Armed with the doctor's professional opinion, I let out a cold, bitter laugh.
Mamie's lie wouldn't survive five minutes of scrutiny. And Oliver—an operations director at a Fortune 500 company, a man who prided himself on his intellect—he hadn't been fooled. He'd known all along. He simply enjoyed the arrangement too much to question it.
I found a computer repair shop and had them pull the footage from the memory cards. Even though I'd braced myself for what I'd see, the tears still came, streaming down my face in hot, relentless lines.
No wonder I'd been sick all the time in my past life. No wonder the dizziness and exhaustion had worsened after I got pregnant—so much so that Mamie barely had to push before I tumbled down those stairs.
No wonder, even after the miscarriage, I'd been bedridden for months, wasting away until I coughed up blood and died.
And through all of it, Oliver had told me it was my own fault. That my mental state was the problem. That I was acting like a lunatic.
I grabbed my bag and headed straight for First General Hospital. An hour later, the test results were in my hands.
The moment I saw the results on the blood panel, my fingernails dug into my palms so hard they drew blood. Droplets fell one by one onto the floor beside my feet.
The doctor's voice echoed in my ears.