Too Late, Mr. Thompson: Your Script is Burned

Three months pregnant, my life with Mark, a rising tech CEO, in our beautiful Charleston home, felt truly perfect.

We were college sweethearts, five years married-a fairy tale come true.

Then Mark arrived holding a cheap, wilted rose. Above his head, impossible words flickered like captions only I could see: `"The 'side piece' got the fresh bouquet, the 'starter wife' gets a pity rose?"` More chillingly: `"Only 4 more months until the 'first wife' is written off. Classic tragic exit."` My perfect world shattered.