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The day after I gave birth, Rhett fvcked another woman in OUR bedroom. When I catch them? He didn't even flinch. Just smirked at me. "Baby's here now. So what're you gonna do? Cry?" Everyone waited for me to lose it. Scream. Throw things. Like I always did. But I didn't. Just held my daughter and walked out. After that, I became the perfect wife he'd always wanted. Paparazzi at the door? I paid them off. His mistress causing drama? I handled it. Then, at our daughter's one-month celebration, his mistress showed up, pregnant, demanding he leave me. Rhett actually laughed. Like this was the punchline he'd been waiting for. "So what now, wifey? Still gonna play nice?" I didn't get mad. Just placed our daughter in his arms, and said: "Consider this repayment. For saving my life all those years ago. We're even." The air went dead. Rhett just stood there glaring at me while I kept going. "Two ounces tops. Every three hours. Keep her head up a little when—" He laughed—that sh!tty, mean laugh. "Oh, so you finally shut up for a month and I thought maybe you got some sense. But nope, just cooking up more bullsh!t. Sloane, you seriously think this kid's gonna die without you?" "Here's the thing—plenty of women would jump at being her mom." His voice bounced off the walls of the mansion. The housekeepers shot me pitying looks and sighed. I forced a bitter smile. Used to it by now. Just like the first time I caught him cheating—he'd just stood there, arms crossed against the doorframe, watching me break down. "Quit the drama, Sloane. You're not doing yourself any favors." I didn't believe him. Made him cut things off with her. So Rhett took off with her instead. Disappeared for three whole months. His parents blamed me. Cut off my money completely. The country club wives who used to kiss my butt? Started avoiding me. Even the housekeepers looked down on me, not even bothering to hide their smirks. Finally, I had to beg him to come back. Rhett didn't have to lift a finger. Total victory. So this time, he felt bold enough to mock me again. "Sloane, you're forgetting your place. Always gotta cause drama, huh?" "You should be grateful." His voice went cold. "My mom saved your asses because of me. Without me? Your mom would've been dead eight years ago." I fell back into a chair. He put the baby back in my arms. Rhett patted my head like I was a good little dog, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Play nice, and you stay Mrs. Hale. Simple as that." Then he pulled his new girlfriend, Margot Bright, close and swaggered into our bedroom. This one housekeeper decided to chime in. Came over acting all helpful. "Why upset Mr. Hale, ma'am? He keeps throwing money at you—shouldn't that be enough? We all know back then you—" She trailed off, but the judgment was crystal clear. Yeah, I married him for money. When I was thirteen, Dad cheated. During a storm, he threw me and my beat-up mother out of the house in Pacific Palisades. We had nothing. Mom was dying, barely hanging on. I had no choice but to kneel on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, begging for spare change. That's when Rhett appeared like some kind of miracle, taking me and Mom home with him. He used to pat my head like he actually cared, protecting me like a big brother. Years later, his mother got into astrology and decided our birth charts were some kind of "perfect match." She kicked out his girlfriend and forced him to marry me instead. That's when everything changed. One mistress after another. Even when I fell apart. Rhett would just stand there, stone-faced, and sneer. "Isn't this what you wanted? You sold yourself for cash." He knew I'd demanded a hundred grand from his mother to agree to the marriage. What he didn't know? That money paid for Mom's l!ver transplant. The surgery failed. Mom died. Maybe this is karma—punishment for being greedy. Now I'm stuck in this he11. Maybe there really is some psychic bond between mother and child, 'cause suddenly the baby started wailing. No matter what I did, she just kept screaming. Footsteps pounded down the stairs. Margot appeared wrapped in my bathrobe, looking all wounded. "Can't handle me being happy? Making the baby cry just to mess things up? Fine, I'll deal. But she's YOUR kid. How can you do this to her?" Everything just stopped—my brain was screaming but my body wouldn't move. This wasn't happening. I carried this baby for nine months. Almost bled out giving birth to her. Nobody loved her more than I did. I wasn't about to explain myself to Margot. Just held Nora closer and turned to leave. But Margot lunged at me, trying to rip the baby from my arms. "You don't deserve to be a mother!" She was yanking at her. Nora cried harder, and it was killing me—I couldn't breathe. My head was buzzing so loud I couldn't think. Next thing I knew, I'd shoved Margot hard. She went down screaming. "Sloane! What the he11? Margot's pregnant!" Rhett flew down the stairs, pissed as he11, stepping between us. Margot bit her lip, tears already streaming. "I just wanted to help. She attacked me, Rhett. I don't... maybe I do everything wrong..." She was really selling it. Rhett didn't even look at me. Just stormed over and grabbed for the baby. I forced myself to stay calm. "Don't hurt her. I'll give her to you." Nora's cries were getting hoarse. Rhett threw cash at me without a second glance. "Go buy a cake. Apologize to Margot." The baby's little hands reached for me. Like she was begging me to save her. Rhett didn't care that I was crying. "Move!" Margot held Nora like she'd won something, that smug smile on her face. "Don't worry, Sloane. I've got her." My daughter's cries stabbed through my skull. I looked at her once more—heart breaking. Bit my tongue till I tasted blood. Forced myself to focus and left. I pushed the car to its limit, practically ran into the bakery in Santa Monica, grabbed a cake. Less than thirty minutes later, I was back, gasping for air. The second I opened the door, the house was dead silent. My heart dropped straight into my stomach. I stumbled toward the nursery. Margot was just coming out. When she saw me, guilt flashed across her face for like half a second. But then she smiled, taking the cake from my hands. Called up to Rhett, "Babe, come down for cake!" I looked down at Nora—she was sleeping quietly. I let out this shaky breath. But something was wrong. Her face was way too flushed. She looked uncomfortable but wasn't moving at all. Panic hit me like a truck. I called her name, patted her, shook her a little—nothing. Everything around me just closed in, suffocating me till I couldn't see straight. "NORA!" My scream tore through the whole mansion. I went after Margot like some kind of wild animal and slammed her to the ground. My hands went straight for her throat. "What did you do to my daughter!" Margot's face went red, eyes bulging with pure hate. "Little... brat wouldn't... shut up... just some sleeping pills..." My vision went black. This roaring filled my ears. I squeezed harder. Margot's screams got quieter and quieter. Then someone yanked me off from behind—I saw stars. Rhett grabbed Margot, pulled her close, and started yelling at me. "Are you insane? You almost killed her!" I dragged myself up off the floor, tears streaming down my face, voice totally shot. "She deserves worse! She gave Nora sleeping pills! She tried to kill her!" Rhett froze for a second. Panic flashed in his eyes. He turned toward the nursery. But Margot grabbed his sleeve, crying her eyes out. "I only gave her a tiny bit! I even texted a doctor friend—it was totally safe! She's just looking for an excuse to hurt me." She turned to me, still playing the victim card. "If you hate me that much, I'll leave. But I don't deserve to die, right?" She coughed like she was dying, trembling like some fragile little thing. Rhett looked at the bruises forming on her neck. After a few seconds, he turned to me with ice in his voice. "Apologize to her. Now." I stared at him like he'd just punched me in the gut. The pain was ripping me apart from the inside. "She's your daughter. So your side piece is more important?" Rhett looked away. Wouldn't even look at me. "I don't care. You almost killed someone. Apologize." The room was spinning. I went to the nursery, grabbed my baby, and headed for the door. Rhett didn't stop me. But his face kept getting darker with every step. "You walk out that door, Sloane, don't even think about coming back!" His tone—like he was kicking out a stray dog he was done feeding. Whatever. All I cared about was getting my daughter somewhere safe. At the ER, the doctor said Nora was gonna be okay. But she still looked pissed off. "How could you give a baby sleeping pills? CPS would take your kid away for this!" Her harsh words hit me like slaps across the face. I just sat there, head down, drowning in shame. That night, I didn't take my daughter back to that house. And I never would again. No way in he11 was I leaving Nora in that nightmare. The next day, I went back alone to grab my stuff. Rhett wasn't worried about his daughter at all. Actually threw a whole birthday party for Margot—caterers, champagne, the works. I didn't even look at them. Just went straight to our room and started throwing documents and clothes into a suitcase. Suddenly my wrist got yanked back hard enough to hurt. Rhett glared at me. "What's this drama now, Sloane? Where's the kid?" I yanked my arm back. "You're never getting her back." Before he could start yelling, I cut him off. "Rhett, we're getting divorced."