hapter 13
070 7
The cops slow down the footage, watching it frame by frame, ten times over. They freeze on the moment Ray reaches out to push me. Even in the dim lighting, once they adjust the brightness, her wrist is clearly visible.
She’s got nothing left to say now. No more lies to hide behind.
I walk out of the interrogation room to find Marcus on his phone, practically
shouting.
“It’s online? Who’s getting attacked? That’s all fake – just a misunderstanding! Trust me, I’m heading back right now!”
He’s arguing with the Chief of Surgery in the corner, trying to save his career. From his frantic words, I catch bits and pieces – turns out someone’s posted our hospital
showdown on TikTok. You can see him in his scrubs clear as day, hitting a pregnant
woman. Now he’s all over Twitter and Instagram.
His boss is giving him one last chance.
I check my phone from the hallway bench. The video’s already trending number
one.
The comments have split into two camps – one blindly defending the “wronged wife,” the other saying I had no right to get physical without proof. The internet’s
having a field day.
They’ve dug up everything about Marcus too. The smarter ones are blaming him – saying he’s the real problem, not the women he played.
No wonder he sounds desperate.
He hangs up abruptly, spots me, and his face softens. “Got to handle something at the hospital,” he says, all apologetic. “Wait for me? I’ll be right back.”
His eyes are full of hope, like he thinks I’ll still be here when he returns. Like all those times before, when he’d look back and find me waiting.
Too bad those days are done.
I keep scrolling through my phone. “Do whatever you want. Doesn’t matter if you
come back. You’ve seen what you needed to see.” My voice is ice. “Just show up to
sign the divorce papers.”
The word ‘divorce‘ darkens his eyes. He starts to speak, sees me still scrolling, and
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shuts up.
He walks out looking defeated. I laugh bitterly.
Of course his job and Ray matter more than me and our dead baby. Always have. That night of our third anniversary still pisses me off. I’d acted like such a fool, spending the whole day getting myself hot for him – full body wax, my long hair done in those loose curls he loved to grab, smoky eye makeup that made me look like a porn star. Blew three hundred bucks on this slutty black lingerie set – transparent lace everywhere, straps criss–crossing my tits and ass, crotchless panties, the whole nine yards. Even bought those thigh–high stockings he always wanted me to keep on in bed. The kind of outfit that just screams “fuck me all night.”
I waited through dinner, through sunset, kept checking my phone like a pathetic idiot. Finally, at midnight, he called.
“When are you finally coming home?” I tried to keep my voice light, sexy, like I hadn’t just wasted six hours sitting alone in this fucking dress. “Working late, baby. Just sleep,” he pants, barely getting the words out. But I hear everything – the wet sounds of kissing, her theatrical moans, the rhythmic creaking of his office desk. “Oh god, Doctor Bennett,” she gasps, voice dripping with fake ecstasy. “Right there, don’t stop…” Then the call cuts off, leaving me alone with the
image of them burning in my mind.
I sat in that dark living room for hours, my heart turning to stone. Just one of countless nights I spent waiting, becoming numb to being second choice.
Half an hour later, Ray finishes her statement. With the evidence crushing her, she confesses everything.
I grab the hallway footage from the cops and write up exactly what happened that day. Post it all online with the trending tags.
It explodes instantly.
Twitter sleuths do their thing, digging through every post and story. They find Ray’s Instagram – all those thirst trap beach pics, her bragging about stealing someone’s man while she was in my hospital bed. Videos of them together, her
barely covered
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in dental floss bikinis while he gropes her.
Her comments blow up faster than her body count:
[Homewrecking slut really out here proud of fucking married men? Hope that dick was worth losing your nursing license over
]
[Dr. Daddy Issues over here raw dogging his patients while his pregnant wife waits at home. Hope you both get herpes]
[When your “childhood sweetheart” is just the office bike everyone’s had a ride on
Sis did you really think you were special?]
Ray won’t see any of this for a while. The platform nukes her account to control the damage.
Late arrivals, with nowhere else to vent, flood the hospital’s page instead, cursing
Marcus by name.
