Yesterday, before I left, I had overheard Nolan say, “He’s just a spoiled son of a nouveau riche. Bad temper, little ability. Marrying someone like him was truly unfortunate.”
To outsiders, Kendall had called me a jealous and suspicious husband.
But in reality, she had always been the one throwing tantrums in our marriage, while showing a gentle, polite face to everyone else.
At home, she had been picky and hard to please. Even adding chopped green onions to a dish had made her furious. She would scold me, then throw the plate aside and walk away.
“I was never the one to apologize.”
I handed her the divorce agreement and opened my bedroom door. Kendall followed close behind, hugging me tightly from behind.
“Stop throwing a tantrum! Isn’t it enough for me to apologize?” Her hands slid over me.
“I know I’ve been neglecting you lately and you’re angry. Isn’t it enough if I promise you a child?”
The thought of her closeness with Nolan made me sick.
I shoved her away. “Don’t touch me! You’re filthy!”
Kendall’s face turned red with anger, her eyes burning. But before she could lash out, everything went black—I had passed out.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital.