He was the one who inflicted the deepest wounds.

"Just be good," he said, not looking at me. "Nobody will take your place."

He wasn't threatening divorce anymore. It felt like a condescending offer of peace.

I looked down submissively, acting grateful.

"Husband," I said softly. "Could you maybe come back three days a week?"

"The kids ask for you every day. I'm running out of excuses."

This was Step Two of my plan.

They'd been together for over two years, more than seven hundred days and nights.

I was betting his infatuation was fading.

I needed him back in the house. The plan couldn't move forward if he wasn't physically present.

Lily sent another intimate photo of her and Ethan. I replied immediately: [You're working so hard.]

Her reply was quick: [He doesn't love you. Why bother making him come back?]

I texted back: [Love is too much of a luxury for me. I can't afford it. I envy that he loves you.]

She seemed furious. [You'll be gone eventually.]

I wrote back: [Please, sister, let me have this place. I'll take care of the kids. I'll make sure you two have nothing to worry about.]

In looks and age, I couldn't compare to her. I played the part of the humble, pleading wife, planning my moves carefully.

A twenty-six-year-old girl, openly breaking up a family, challenging the wife without shame.

I bet she didn't come from a good family either.

I'd already hired a private investigator. I knew all about her background, her past relationships.

When you stop hoping for the man, and only care about protecting your children, your parents, and yourself, things become much clearer.

These past two years, I started taking Taekwondo classes.

You'd think I'd go for yoga, or modeling, or maybe singing or dancing lessons.

But I loved Taekwondo.

I dreamt of the day I could throw Ethan over my shoulder, slam him onto the floor, and watch him struggle to get up.

Then, look down at him like he was nothing and spit out one word: Trash.

I looked in the mirror, my reflection meeting my eyes. It will happen, I told myself firmly. That day will come.

I knew he'd be sleeping in his study.

At eleven, I brought him a glass of milk. Taking care of people was something I'd always been good at.

He looked at me, desire flickering in his eyes.

He tugged at his tie, leaning back in his chair.

I lowered my gaze, blushing, twisting my fingers together.

"Husband," I asked softly. "I went to Mom's house today. It's still so old and small."

"Could we maybe get them a new place? One with an elevator?"

Ethan, to his credit, had always been decent to my parents, besides, you know, cheating.

He probably felt guilty about everything.

The atmosphere was thick with tension.

He reached out and pulled me onto his lap. "Give me a kiss," he murmured, "and I'll do it."

"Tell your finance manager first," I countered, batting my eyelashes. "Then I'll kiss you."

I could play this game too.

Desire burned in his eyes.

He picked up his phone and called his finance director.

He told him to prepare a sum of money for me tomorrow. He said I could decide the amount.

While he was on the phone, his arm still around my waist, I sent a message to Lily Taylor: [Your man wants to sleep with me tonight. Permission granted?]