I Faked My Death to Watch Her Fall Apart

On the night of our eighth anniversary, Primrose Archival slept with her male assistant.

After it happened, she looked at me with reddened eyes and whispered, “Honey, I was set up. He’s already been fired.”

To prove her innocence, she held a knife to her abdomen and slashed herself.

I had no choice but to forgive her.

But two years later, that same male assistant, Gideon Cortez, sat across from me in a café, tossing photo after photo onto the table, each one more intimate than the last.