Too Late For Regret: The Neglected Wife

“My car broke down in a torrential downpour, so I called my husband of seven years for help. He hung up on me. But minutes later, his childhood sweetheart, Alona, pulled up, slapped herself in the face, and called his private line crying that I had attacked her. Dominic arrived in his Bentley almost immediately. He didn't even look at my shivering, soaked body. Instead, he wrapped his jacket around Alona, tossed a corporate card at me to call a cab, and drove away. Through the car window, I saw our six-year-old son glaring at me. "Mom, stop making a scene! Auntie Alona is not feeling well." Later that night at the family dinner, his brother intentionally drove through a puddle to drench me in mud, and his mother forced me to wear a maid's uniform to the table. The family matriarch then ordered me to kneel on the cold marble floor, demanding I produce a second heir. For seven years, I thought my devotion could warm his cold heart. I didn't know everyone in his circle mocked me for trapping him with a pregnancy, or that I was just a convenient shield to protect his true love from his ruthless grandmother. I didn't cry, and I didn't argue. I simply stood up from the cold floor and sent him a text message. "Dominic, let's get a divorce." The next morning, I blocked every number in the Reeves family and called my lawyer.”