Part 3The Perfect Wife Went Off-Script

That evening, Nathan brought our daughter, Sienna, home. She was about to start university.

In front of her, he opened a box of pecan tarts.

"Viv, I still remember how much you love these.

"We've been through so much together. Let's put all this behind us and go back to the way things used to be. Be the sweet woman you used to be, okay?"

Sienna looked at me with red eyes.

"Mom, Dad said you've been accusing him of things lately and even throwing stuff around the house.

"People online are attacking you, and Dad stayed up all night trying to protect you. Please... go see a doctor."

I didn't touch the pastries.

Tucked beneath the box was a receipt. It was from the Claremont Residence, where Amber lived.

The timestamp read 7:40 a.m.

Two coffees, a sandwich, a strawberry milk, and a box of prenatal vitamins.

The pecan tarts weren't proof that he remembered my favorite dessert. They were just something he'd picked up on his way home after spending the night with Amber.

I slid the receipt across the table. "Were the prenatal vitamins for me too?"

Nathan's expression shifted for a split second before he crumpled the receipt into a ball.

"A colleague asked me to pick them up."

Then he turned to our daughter with a weary look. "Sienna, do you see what I mean?

"She can turn a shopping receipt into proof of an affair. It's not that I don't love her. She's sick."

Sienna looked at me. For the first time, I saw fear in her eyes.

"Mom, please get help."

Those words hurt more than every insult I'd read online.

Nathan hadn't brought our daughter home to make peace.

Nathan had brought our daughter home to make her doubt me, just like everyone else.

Late that night, while Nathan was in the shower, I slipped into his study.

Hidden beneath the wastebasket was a pregnancy test.

Two lines. Positive.

Next to it was a note from Amber.

"Captain, the baby and I both miss Daddy.

"When are you getting rid of the old woman?"

Inside the desk drawer was an emergency admission application for a private psychiatric hospital.

Nathan had already filled it out.

My name was listed as the patient.

Diagnosis: paranoia, violent tendencies, risk of self-harm.

Attached was a psychiatric evaluation I'd never undergone, along with an application for emergency spousal guardianship.

I finally understood what he was planning.

He didn't just want the world to believe I was mentally ill.

He wanted to lock me away as both my husband and my legal guardian.

Once that happened, no one would believe another word I said. Everything would be dismissed as the ravings of a madwoman.

My assets, my daughter, my life. He would control it all.

The shower turned off.

I quickly photographed every document and sealed the pregnancy test inside a plastic evidence bag.

Before leaving the study, I glanced at the livestream control panel mounted on the wall.

In the corner of the monitor, a tiny cloud icon blinked.

What Nathan didn't know was that I'd been the one who set up the entire system.

I switched off the screen and returned to the living room.

Nathan walked out, drying his hair with a towel. When he saw me holding the pecan tarts, he smiled with satisfaction. "Come to your senses?"

I took a bite. The tart had long since gone cold. "I have."

It was finally time to end our marriage.