Chapter 4

Without caring about the crowd, Tyler grabbed my wrist in a vice grip.

He dragged me out of the club, threw me into the passenger seat of his car, and slammed the door shut.

A second later, he climbed in, leaning over to pin me against the cold door. His hand wrapped tightly around my throat.

His eyes were wild with fury, his grip tightening as he growled:

"Fine... you win!"

"Throwing a tantrum like this just because I forgot our anniversary? You really are desperate."

It was pathetic.

Even now, he genuinely believed this entire meltdown was just a twisted game to make him pay attention to me.

Looking at his furious face, I actually laughed.

I laughed at his arrogance. I laughed at his stupidity.

Five years ago, when Tyler’s outburst caused my miscarriage, I had begged for a divorce.

But the Franklins refused to support me.

They told me I should be grateful that a man like Tyler was willing to overlook my "baggage" and marry me.

They blamed me for ruining my marriage over an "accident."

Tyler had knelt by my hospital bed back then, sobbing and shaking.

He told me that ever since he witnessed my kidnapping, he had suffered from terrible nightmares.

He said he could still hear my screams every time he closed his eyes.

He hated himself for asking me out that day. He hated himself for letting go of my hand to help a stranger.

Over time, his PTSD and anxiety grew worse.

The slightest noise triggered his fight-or-flight response. He couldn't control himself.

He held me tight, crying so sincerely.

But my heart was already dead.

That was my baby. That was my only hope for a fresh start.

How could he murder my child and then casually ask for forgiveness?

How was I supposed to just live happily ever after with him?

But what choice did I have?

My life was already a trainwreck.

What was the point of fighting?

So, I went home with him. I never mentioned the baby again.

But soon, I realized something. His "uncontrollable PTSD" disappeared the moment Polly was around.

He could tolerate any noise, any chaos, as long as Polly was the one making it.

That was the moment I realized.

He didn't hate the noise. He hated me.

Since we both despised each other, there was no point in dragging this out.

From now on, we were both free.

Seeing my face turn red from the lack of oxygen, Tyler finally let go of my throat.

He turned his head away, refusing to look at me.

He slammed on the gas, driving us home in tense, suffocating silence.

The moment we got back, Tyler went straight to the shower.

I walked into the study to print out a fresh copy of the divorce papers.

The moment I turned on his laptop, his SnapChat started flashing.

He had forgotten to log out.

I clicked on the chat. The screen was filled with messages between him and Polly.

I watched him apologize for ruining her graduation night, making promise after promise to make it up to her.

He sounded like a teenage boy head-over-heels in love.

Then, I saw his text:

Tyler: [Ugh, I don't know what kind of crazy episode Alyssa is having today.]

Tyler: [I'm hiding in the bathroom right now. Honestly, just the thought of having to touch her tonight makes me want to throw up.]

Polly's reply was quick, dripping with fake innocence:

Polly: [Tyler, please don't say that. Alyssa is your wife. It's my fault... I shouldn't have let myself fall for you.]

Polly: [It physically hurts thinking about you two together, but there's nothing I can do.]

The flirting, the mocking, the casual way they ripped my dignity to shreds—it made my blood run cold.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

I placed my fingers on the keyboard, typed a quick message, and hit send:

[You don't have to worry about that anymore. I'm out.]