It was a photo showing a scantily dressed lady. Her raised left wrist was adorned with a flashy Vacheron Constantin watch.
There was another hand of a man, who was wearing a dark grey shirt.
His identity was plain to see.
That shirt was now discarded at the living room entrance.
The shirt's owner had just tried to hit me with a belt and told me I would scavenge for food without him.
I stood up, shut down my laptop, and went to my room.
Steve deserved to freeze.
The next morning, I took the twins to school.
Steve was no longer in the living room.
Wherever he went, I didn't care anymore.
It only disgusted me.
The twins, now six years old, had just started first grade.
Sitting in the family driver's car, my daughter suddenly asked, "Mom, you haven't smiled in a long time. Are you unhappy?"
I forced a smile, "No, sweetheart, don't worry."
At the school gate, my son ran ahead while my daughter stopped and looked at me worriedly. "Mom, cartoons say if you're unhappy, you should stay away from what makes you sad."
Her words made me sad, and I mumbled, "I know, sweetheart. Now go to school."
My daughter's words must have been relayed to Steve by the driver.
A few days later, Steve forbade me from taking the twins to school, claiming I needed to calm down due to my poor mental state.
The twins were sent to the house of Steve's parents and looked after by the housekeeper.
I was practically under house arrest, unable to go anywhere.
I didn't protest or make a scene, just packing my belongings.
I told Steve, "If you don't agree to the divorce, I'll file for it."
Steve, feeling his authority challenged, smashed a priceless vase and roared at me, "Go ahead! Let's see whose side the judge takes!"
The Sanchez family was wealthy and influential, while I was all alone.
The outcome seemed obvious.
"No matter how rich you are, the judge still follows the law," I said.
Steve clenched his fists, veins bulging, "Nancy Foster, don't push your luck. Or there will be consequences."
I stood up, still calm. "Fine, either you agree to the divorce, or you kill me."
It was said that when one discovered a cockroach, there was actually a whole nest of them.
I believed the same principle applied to cheating.
When I first received the photos from Andrea Bailey as a blatant provocation, I guessed that this was not the first time Steve had betrayed me.