When Forever Falls Apart

My family was the wealthiest in River City, with assets worth trillions.

On my eighteenth birthday, my brother, Calvin Chester, gifted me an entire jewelry production line while my parents built a private museum and named it after me.

The greatest hardship I’d ever faced? Learning how to spend my inheritance.

Then I met Dario Darwin. For him, I cut ties with my family and helped him build his empire from scratch.

But when I was three months pregnant, he demanded I drink on behalf of his assistant, Fran Fallon, a woman “slumming it” as an intern while secretly being the heiress to another fortune.

“Stop pretending,” he sneered. “You’re not like Fran, raised in pampered luxury. You’re older, so act like it and take care of your juniors!”

Then, to the clients leering around the table, “My wife’s just being dramatic. She can hold her liquor. Don’t hold back—pour her another!”

Amid their jeers, he left with Fran, abandoning me to a room of drunken men.

Years of sacrifice, only to be humiliated.

I scheduled an abortion and called him.

“We’re done.”

Through the phone, Fran’s simpering voice chimed in, “It’s my fault that Clea is upset… I should quit and go home to my family’s billions.”

“Ignore her. She’s faking it,” Dario cooed back.

On the day Dario signed the divorce papers, my parents and Calvin came to take me home.

Our marriage came to an end, but his tragedy was about to begin.

Dario Darwin came home well past midnight.

The living room lights were dim, and for once, no one stepped forward to take his briefcase or the suit jacket that reeked of alcohol and perfume.

There was no warm, stomach-soothing meal waiting for him on the table like there always had been.

After a brief pause, he strode straight into the bedroom.

I’d always been a light sleeper, and the alcohol churning in my gut had left me restless. The moment he entered, I stirred awake.

Seeing me conscious, Dario made his way to me.

He bent down, expecting me to loosen his tie and peel off his jacket.

“Why’d you sleep without me? No midnight snack either,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Just make a simple noodle soup with eggs and bring it to the study after I shower.”

At some point, Dario had grown used to me doing everything for him.

From major business decisions and social drinking engagements to the smallest details of daily life, including his meals, clothes, and even taking off his shoes.

I had become his employee and maid, anything but his wife.

That’s why he’d shoved me into that sea of leering men for another woman’s sake.

And why he had assumed I’d still play the doting servant tonight.

In psychology, it is known as the dog whistle effect. Train someone with love until they obey on command. Then all you need is a whisper, and they’ll kneel.

My love for Dario was the whistle in his hand.

When I