The scoundrel caused my miscarriage and I made him pay with his life

On our fifth wedding anniversary, my husband compared me to my best friend.

He used to nitpick everything about Hailee Baxter, but that day, he told me to learn from her. "You two grew up together. How is there such a huge gap between you? Grow your hair out, wear dresses more often, maybe spritz on some perfume. You can manage that, right? You're my wife. Don't embarrass me in public."

I clutched my faded shirt, making sure it didn't carry the smoky smell of the barbecue I'd been grilling for years.

I shot back, "What, you've got a thing for her now?"

Sean Andrews froze for a few seconds, then laughed and adjusted his frameless glasses. "What are you even thinking? It's just a suggestion. Forget it if you don't like it."

My fingers tightened on the hem of my shirt without me realizing it.

A man who never bought himself a single new outfit—when did he start noticing how other people dressed?

Especially a woman.

I didn't want to doubt him, but then Sean started picking at the food on the table. "Why didn't you make something lighter?"

His tone mirrored Hailee's exactly.

Three years of dating, five years of marriage, and we both loved spicy food.

A wave of unease crept into my chest.

The dishes I'd spent half the afternoon preparing suddenly seemed unappetizing.

When I set down my fork, Sean lost interest in eating too and got up to leave the table.

I said casually, "Can I borrow your phone to make a call? Mine's dead."

Without a second's hesitation, Sean handed me his phone and headed to the kitchen to wash some fruit.

He was as open with me as ever.

But my unease overshadowed the guilt in my heart, urging me to unlock his phone.

I scrolled through his texts with Hailee—just a few group holiday messages.

Nothing seemed off, so I called her number.

A clear, polite voice answered. "Sean? What's up?"

Was I overthinking this?

I forced a smile. "Hailee, it's me."