The Midnight Iris of Betrayal

husband finally noticed my nail po

orite shade of his

culous. "Maybe you should get a job," he snee

t cut came fro

s words a mirror of his father's. "And Cheri is p

present for Cheri. My own birthday had been

't care. I had been replaced in m

ld blind me, I sent

mpletely. I can't be a mother

pte

, shimmering 'Midnight Iris,' listening to Brennan's v

Brennan never noticed my nail pol

me awake all night. Midnight Iris.

s, I knew what I had to do. "I want a divorce, Brennan,"

ce, I wore a vibrant coral, and he asked if I'd dipped my fingers in orange juice

tive assistant. The woman who had, in the past six months, subtly infiltrated every corner of our lives. The

is eyes dismissive. "Are we doing this again, Allison? It's too early

e. The silence stretched, thick and suffo

a divorce, Brennan.

lison? You're being ridiculous. You really have nothing better to do, do yo

bsessing over meaningless things." His suggestion was a deliber

door clicked shut, then opened again almost immed

in a frown. "Mom, why are you always making Dad mad? You don't

king me up today. She's way more fun than you. She even know

life; she was living in mine, too. A ghost haunt

, a perfectly timed suggestion for family outings, a knowing glance tha

er 'understanding' of his demanding schedule. He' d never praised

dismissive tone, twisted a knife in my gut. He

enly silent house. It wasn't just a door closing; it was the fi

the quiet amplifying the emptiness inside me. Then, I pic

ence... and the timing. It certainly aligns with the pattern of emotional infidelity

elity clause, Allison, we could really leverage this. We could tie hi

Evelyn. I want out. Don't you care about the betrayal?

tion of Brennan's corporate legal work. This isn't just about you. It's about a multi-million-dollar contract. We need to be strategic

clay? And my brother's loyalty is cheaper than a corporate contract?" I did

rove to a law firm I' d once seen on a billboard, far fro

told her I didn't care about the money beyond securing my independence. "I j

stody of your son, Bird?" My breath

rthday present? She really likes those fancy French silk scarves. Dad said she deserves th

hide behind the couch, then jump out with a loud 'Happy Birthday, Mommy!' N

ust didn't care enough to remember. T

lind me: "I want to give up custody. Completely. I