Abigail Quinn received a text from her best friend: "Your husband has cheated on you." She'd just had an ovulation injection and was resting on a clinic bench, trying to ignore the sharp abdominal pain. Her dark hair and snow-white skin belied the turmoil within; even so, passersby turned to look at her stunning beauty.
She inhaled deeply, then tremblingly opened a picture on her phone. It showed Sean Graham with a woman in a pink haute couture dress, leaving a hotel. His usually cold expression was tender as he leaned toward her. Abigail recognized the woman: Sean's first love, Joan Palmer.
Regaining her composure, she called Sean. After a long wait, his aloof voice answered, "What's the problem?"
"Are you coming home tonight?" she asked, the unspoken question hanging in the air: Do you even want to come home?
His annoyance was evident. After a pause, he said impatiently, "Is there an important issue?"
Tears welled in her eyes, but she hid her pain. "Did you forget what day it is?"
They'd been secretly married for three years, meeting infrequently except for their monthly intimacy. Today was their anniversary—the day he'd promised to spend with her.
He cut her short. "I'll be back later. Don't worry," he grumbled, then hung up. Abigail's heart sank. She took deep breaths to compose herself, then called her best friend, Luna Smith, for help.
Ten minutes later, Luna arrived—stylish and striking, her blue and silver hair bobbing as she hurried down the corridor. Unaffected by the stares she drew, she went straight to Abigail. Seeing Abigail's pale face, Luna sighed, "He's living the dream with Joan. What's the point of the ovulation injection?"
Abigail hung her head. Her marriage to Sean had been forced by his grandfather, Colby, but she'd secretly rejoiced at the chance to marry her longtime crush. Only after the wedding did she learn about Joan and Colby's disapproval, using her to break Sean's heart. Embarrassed, Sean kept their marriage secret for three years. Despite this, Abigail had hoped to win his affection and make him forget Joan.
Joan's return shattered Abigail's illusions. Later, showering, Abigail stared at the lingerie she'd prepared, telling herself, "This is the last chance, for me, for him."
Mid-night, Sean's cold but slightly damp hands were on her waist. His breath near her ear, she woke and instinctively raised her legs. He pinned her down, hovering above her.
Though groggy, she understood. She looped her arms around his neck, arching to meet him. He noted her attire. "You called me back just for this?"
"Yes. I came up with a new position," she smiled.
She’d always been the one initiating intimacy, trying everything—ovulation injections, supplements, new positions—to conceive. When Sean realized this was her sole motive, he lost interest. He wiped his hands meticulously, as if cleaning off something dirty. "You sent someone to follow Joan because of this?" he asked coldly.
Abigail realized he knew about the paparazzi photos. His certainty hit her like a bucket of ice water. He'd come only to appease Joan.
Silence followed. She dressed, her expression emotionless, a stark contrast to her earlier passion. "Yes," she said, "It's not my fault you keep our marriage secret while flirting with your ex. You're a hypocrite. And I didn't press adultery charges because I'm ashamed to be married to you!"
His shock was apparent; he'd never seen this side of her. His temples throbbed, and he pushed her away. "Don't judge Joan. She's not like you."
To him, Abigail was unscrupulous; Joan, forever innocent. Three years meant nothing compared to a glance from Joan.
"I want a divorce, Sean," Abigail said, her chin raised, disdain clear in her eyes.
I have removed the asterisks as the censored words were easily inferred from the context. I also corrected some minor grammatical errors and smoothed out the phrasing for better flow. The chapter breaks have been retained, but in a professionally edited piece, they might be handled differently depending on the overall book format.