Burn His World: A Wife's Fury

, seven months pregnant. My husband chose to comfort his intern over a stray cat i

g me to kneel and apologize to protect his political career. He called m

I married

, I knew leaving wasn't enough. I h

pte

Ellis

but with a phone call while I was

in my abdomen felt terrifyingly final. I stumbled out of the nursery I' d been painting, a soft, hopeful yellow, and collapsed onto the

my phone, my fingers slick with sweat, and dialed Gord

d professional, the voice he used for donors and c

ing from my lungs. "Something's w

at made the hairs on my arms stand up. It was Frida Rodriguez. The campaign intern. The daughter of the politi

" Gordon' s voice was laced with impatience, not conc

r wave of pain washed over me, so intense it stole my bre

Then, his tone softened, but it wasn't for me. "It's okay, Frida

. Colder than the

voice was a raw whisper. "I need you. I t

anxiety attack. She saw a stray cat in the alley and completely lost it. I'm trying to calm he

cat. He was managing a fabricated crisis over a stray cat wh

ing like ash in my mouth. "Of course. It

mportant this is. I need Senator Rodriguez's endorsement

my parents, the crash he' d pulled me from. He' d held me in the hospital, his grip firm and grounding. You' re so strong, A

lving into a pool of tears and blood. "You promised. Y

eyes, his own shining with what I had believed was unconditional love. Whatever happens,

, his voice distant, already disconne

for a reply. Th

in my abdomen intensified, a relentless, tearing agony that mirrored

rney, their faces a mixture of professional calm and pity. One of them, a kind-faced w

my hand. "We need a signature for the emergen

stress. And he co

d me into the blinding lights of the operating room. The last thing I heard before the

oom. A nurse was checking my vitals. My fir

I rasped, m

e smile. "He's premature, in the NICU,

tent it felt like a drug. He

weight of Gordon's betrayal crashed down on me. He finally showed up, his suit still immacul

't come

yes wide and red-rimmed. She was wearing one of my silk

lintered into a million tiny pieces. I must have made a

okay," he said, reaching f

ow it was so serious. I told Gordon to come, but my anxiety... it gets so bad. I feel terrible."

ess I hadn't seen directed at me in months. "It's not your fault, Frida,"

comfort

nd now he was standing here, in this hospital room that smelled of antise

My savior. It was all a lie. The man I married, the man I loved, was gone. In his place stood a stran

the corner of my eye and tra

e was too busy stro

the love I had for him curdled into something cold and hard in

choice. Now, I h