Page 65 of The Humiliated Wife

Meanwhile, he sat in his empty life, surrounded by the trappings of a success that suddenly felt meaningless.

Dean closed the laptop.

He looked at his awards again. Account Executive of the Year. Rising Star in Creative Strategy. All those little gold statues celebrating his ability to manipulate emotions for profit.

He'd been so proud of them once.

Now they just looked like participation trophies for being a functioning sociopath.

For the first time in his adult life, he wasn't interested in climbing ladders or leveraging connections or turning his personal disasters into professional advantages.

He just wanted to figure out how to be a person Fiona might have been proud to know.

Even if she'd never know it.

Even if it was too late.

CHAPTER 27

Fiona

Fiona leanedback on the couch, legs tucked under her, a warm mug of tea cradled in both hands. Emma sat cross-legged beside her, a half-eaten bowl of popcorn in her lap. Marcy was on video call, propped against the toaster on speakerphone, her face glowing softly from the screen.

“…and then Travis asked why I couldn’t just ‘wing it’ on his cousin’s wedding speech,” Marcy was saying. “Like I didn’t spend two weeks rewriting it because his familyscaresme.”

“That man is a disaster,” Emma muttered around a mouthful of popcorn.

“He’s a deeply lovable disaster,” Marcy said. “But yes. A disaster.”

Fiona laughed, soft but genuine. It was the first time she’d really laughed all week—really laughed, without feeling like it might crack something inside her.

Marcy caught the sound and raised an eyebrow. “There she is.”

“Hi,” Fiona said, a little sheepish.

“You look slightly less like you’ve been living inside a thundercloud,” Marcy said gently. “Progress.”

Fiona curled tighter into herself on the couch, exhaling slowly. “Can I… say something that might make me sound like a jerk?”

Emma raised her hand like she was swearing an oath. “Always.”

Fiona hesitated, then: “I think I owe you guys an apology. For always acting like Dean was… perfect.”

“Oh, thank God,” Marcy said instantly. “We’ve been dying for you to say that.”

Fiona blinked. “Wait, really?”

Emma smirked. “Fi, you used to talk about that man like he invented kissing.”

“You made us feel like absolute goblins for getting annoyed when our boyfriends forgot our birthdays,” Marcy added.

“I did not!”

“You literally said, ‘Dean always remembers things like that. He’s just so thoughtful.’”

Fiona groaned. “Okay. Fine. I was the worst.”

Emma reached over and nudged her shoulder. “You were in love. And it was easy to love him when he was performing well.”