She Walked Away, He Went Mad

Camille POV:

"I am so sorry, Ms. Glenn. Uterine cancer, stage three. You have missed the optimal window for surgery..."

I could not hear whatever the doctor said next. The roaring in my ears drowned it out entirely. I just kept thinking that today was my third wedding anniversary with Courtney Trevino.

My fingers gripped the thin medical report so tightly my knuckles turned white. I stood rigid in the stark hospital corridor for a long time before finally pulling out my phone. I didn't dial Courtney's number-in three years of marriage, he had never once answered my calls. I could only dial his executive assistant, Arthur Hayes.

It rang for an agonizingly long time before Arthur finally picked up, his tone as dismissive and aloof as ever. "Mrs. Trevino. Do you need something?"

"Where is Courtney?" I asked, my fingers curling into a tight fist. "I have something very important to tell him. Right now."

"Mr. Trevino is busy."

"Just one minute... please. Just let him answer the phone."

In three years, it was the first time I had ever used the word "please."

Before Arthur could even respond, a soft, teasing woman's voice drifted through the receiver. "Courtney, what's the big surprise? You're being so secretive."

"Look up."

That low, magnetic timbre was a voice etched into my very bones. But that gentleness? I hadn't heard it a single time in three years.

Click.

Arthur hung up without hesitation.

The very next second.

Boom-!

Across Boston Harbor, the first firework exploded. Then a second, a third... Cascades of fire lit up the ink-blue night, painting the sky before eventually forming two massive, glowing letters:

"BR."

Blair Romero.

The massive flat screen in the hospital lobby was broadcasting the spectacle live. The camera zoomed in. Courtney, the ruthless captain of the Boston franchise, was clad in a dark, tailored overcoat. With one arm, he shielded the woman leaning into his chest, ducking his head to gently smooth her hair against the harsh harbor wind.

"Unbelievable! This is a multi-million-dollar birthday surprise from the captain and heir to Trevino Sports & Entertainment!" the anchor gushed. "The lucky lady is Blair Romero, right? The Ivy League-educated pioneer in sports physical therapy. Beautiful, brilliant, and from a phenomenal background. They really are a match made in heaven!"

"No wonder the captain spoils her like this. Put me in his skates, and I'd do the exact same!"

I tilted my head back, staring at the screen.

I remembered our first year of marriage. I had carefully, tentatively asked him if there would be fireworks at the harbor for New Year's Eve, and if he could take me to see them just once.

He hadn't even looked up from his playbook. "Childish."

It turned out fireworks weren't childish. I just wasn't worthy of them.

My grip loosened. The medical report slipped through my fingers and fluttered to the hospital floor. People walking past stepped on it, leaving muddy footprints over the stark black-and-white print.

I didn't bend down to pick it up.

_

At 1:00 AM, the front door of the estate unlocked.

When Courtney flipped on the lights, he paused, spotting me sitting alone in the pitch-black living room. On the dining table in front of me sat a spread of completely cold dishes and an untouched, unopened cake.

He barely glanced at it, his brows drawing together in a slight frown, acting as if he hadn't the faintest memory of what day it was.

"Why are you still awake?"

I looked up at him. His suit jacket was draped casually over his arm. On the collar of his crisp dress shirt was a faint smudge of red lipstick. It glared at me like an open wound.

"Couldn't sleep," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Subconsciously, I pressed my hand against my lower abdomen, my lips pressed into a tight line as I fought a dull, radiating ache. "I went to the hospital today."

"Yeah? What did the doctor say?"

He asked it casually, his long legs already carrying him toward the grand staircase.

I had been in agonizing pain for half a month. He had promised to take me to get it checked out. He promised five times, and he broke that promise five times. It was always a multi-million-dollar contract negotiation, or a crucial NHL playoff strategy meeting.

But today was Blair's birthday.

"Nothing." I lowered my eyes. "Why did you come back tonight?"

Courtney's footsteps halted. He turned around, walked back down, and leaned over, caging me between his arms and the back of the chair.

The man's hot breath brushed against the side of my neck, his voice dropping into a husky register. "It's your ovulation window."

"Didn't you always want to give the Trevino family an heir? Every month on these days, I come back on schedule to do my job-what? Forgot the rules you set yourself?"

The overwhelming scent of a high-end women's perfume clung to his clothes. It hit me like a slapshot straight to the chest, shattering the very last shred of my dignity.

Three years.

His grandmother had been relentlessly pressuring us for a great-grandchild, so he returned home a few days a month, executing it like a contractual obligation. Once he was done, he left. He never stayed the night.

Have a baby?

I thought of the words on that crumpled piece of paper at the hospital. Uterine cancer.

I was never going to have a child. Not in this lifetime.

And here he was, rushing back straight from the arms of another woman, demanding to make a baby with me.

I had been obedient for three years. I had swallowed the pain and the humiliation for three years.

But in this exact moment, I suddenly didn't want to swallow it anymore.

I turned my head, dodging his lips. In the dim light, I looked up at him. My eyes burned, bright and unyielding.

"Courtney, you just came back from Blair's side, and now you want to touch me-"

"Aren't you afraid she'll get jealous?"

Courtney's movements stopped completely.

He straightened up, his towering frame casting a dark shadow over me. He stared at me in silence for a few long seconds. The temperature in his dark eyes plummeted to absolute zero, and finally, he let out a short, hollow laugh that didn't reach his eyes.

"Jealous of what?"

"Our marriage is strictly confidential. Camille, the one kept in the shadows, the one who can't see the light of day, has always been you."

"You're the one who climbed into my bed and chose to be Mrs. Trevino. Since you made your choice, don't ask for things that aren't yours."

It felt like a brutal hand had reached into my chest and crushed my heart. The central AC was set to a warm seventy-eight degrees, but I felt like I was sinking into an ice rink, inch by agonizing inch.

Slowly, very slowly, a faint smile broke across my face.

"Courtney."

"Let's get a divorce."