“You are going to cook and clean while we enjoy the beach, Lydia, because that is exactly what a wife is for after all.”
The sentence came from my husband’s mouth right there on the private dock in the Florida Keys, spoken openly in front of his parents, his ex-girlfriend, and the pilot who was waiting to fly us to the private island I had arranged for our anniversary.
I stood completely still, gripping my sunglasses in a trembling hand, my heart pounding against my ribs as if it might break out of my chest.
It had been five long years of marriage to Caleb Harrison—five years during which he flaunted designer watches, extravagant dinners in the Harbor District, tailored suits, and vintage sports cars while everyone believed he was a powerful figure in business.
The truth was far less impressive, because the cybersecurity company funding his entire lifestyle actually belonged to me, a business I had built from a cramped studio apartment in the West End while surviving on barely three hours of sleep each night.
I had declined every party invitation and endured years of growing debt and ridicule until I finally turned that tiny startup into a multi-million dollar corporation.
Caleb worked as a mid-level manager at a logistics company, and his modest salary did not even cover the insurance on the car he drove every day.
Even as his indifference toward me grew stronger, I still desperately believed I could save our failing marriage if I just tried hard enough.
That was the only reason I had booked a week on a private island in the Caribbean for our fifth anniversary, securing a villa complete with a personal chef, full staff, and a private beach for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
I did it because Caleb had spent months telling me that I was cold and that my company had turned me into a woman who no longer had a home in her heart.
He said he needed a wife who was more present and traditional, and I was naive enough to believe he truly missed me.
The night before the trip, I handed him the itinerary inside a heavy black envelope embossed with gold lettering.
“This trip is just for the two of us, Caleb, with no meetings, no business calls, and absolutely no outside distractions,” I told him softly.
Caleb barely looked up from his smartphone as he took the envelope with a dismissive grunt.
“I certainly hope the internet connection is decent out there, because I cannot just disappear from my responsibilities just because you feel guilty about your own schedule,” he replied.
It hurt to hear that, but I swallowed my pride and forced a smile because I wanted this trip to be a fresh start.
The next morning, I arrived at the private dock thirty minutes late because of an urgent situation at the office that required my immediate approval.
I expected to find him waiting alone and perhaps slightly annoyed, but instead I saw a group gathered near the seaplane.
Caleb stood there with his mother, Margot, his father, Arthur, and Tessa—his college ex—who was dressed in a flowing white linen dress as though she were the guest of honor.
