Farewell Dawn at Spring Feast

When Alexander Knight cheated, I decided to play his game.

He made out with his mistress in public, so I staged a photo op with a movie star.

When their steamy bedroom pictures went viral, I photoshopped one of my own and sent it to him.

Alexander was barely holding back his rage. He stalked over to me, his eyes glinting with a cruel amusement. "I'm taking Isa out for her birthday tonight. You better have plans, or you'll just look pathetic." He leaned in closer, his voice a low threat. "If you're alone tonight, don't expect any respect from me."

I calmly applied my lipstick in the mirror, my voice casual. "Don't you worry about me. He's picking me up soon."

The "he" I was talking about was the eighteen-year-old version of him.

Back then, he put me before anything and anyone. He would grant my every birthday wish.

...

With a deafening crash, the mirror shattered into a spiderweb of cracks.

Before I could recover from the shock, Alexander seized my wrist, his grip like iron. "Kathryn, have you had enough? Does getting back at me make you feel good?!"

Maybe it did. After all, Alexander found a new woman on every business trip, every vacation, every drunken night out. He never seemed to tire of the game.

Seeing my placid expression, he practically gnashed his teeth. "Who is he?"

"You wouldn't know him." I tossed back the same words he'd used to drive me crazy time and time again, my tone light and breezy.

A cold, sinister laugh escaped his lips. "Fine. You've got guts, I'll give you that."

But his patience snapped. His voice rose to a roar. "Where did he touch you? Tell me!" He clawed at my clothes like a madman, jabbing a finger at my body.

"Here?"

"Or here?"

I finally wrenched myself free and slapped him hard across the face. "You're a bastard, Alexander!"

Tears of pure reflex stung my eyes, and only then did the fury in his own seem to cool. His voice softened. "If you're making all this up just because I'm not spending your birthday with you, then you're being incredibly petty."

He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. As he did, something else fell out, landing on the plush carpet with a soft thud. A soiled lace panty.

I was used to it by now. Finding used condoms under the bedsheets. Discovering all sorts of toys in the kitchen drawers. Compared to those, this was nothing.

A flicker of panic crossed Alexanders face, but he quickly masked it, pretending nothing had happened. "Here. Your birthday present." He nudged the box towards me. "Take it and stop being angry."

I took the box, a foolish sliver of hope still lodged in my heart.

But when I opened it, the rotting carcass of a dead rat lay inside.

I screamed and dropped it, but the sickening stench clung to the air.

"Isa loves playing pranks," Alexander explained nonchalantly. "I'll make it up to you later."

Replacing my prenatal vitamins with abortion pills was a "prank." Cutting my brake lines was also a "prank." The excuse was beyond pathetic.

I frantically scrubbed my hands with antiseptic wipes. "No need to explain," I said, my voice flat. "I never said I wanted a gift from you anyway."

That was the spark that ignited his fury. With a violent sweep of his arm, he sent my tea set crashing to the floor. "So you'd rather have some bastard on the street buy you gifts?!" he bellowed. "Kathryn, stop pretending you don't care! All this drama is just to get me to come home, isn't it? Well, dream on!"

He yanked a large box of condoms from a drawer and stormed out without a backward glance.

The spilled hot water scalded my fingers, causing them to curl in pain. I stood there, a mess of humiliation and heartbreak, my chest aching with a deep, plummeting sorrow.

The eighteen-year-old Alexander was never like this.

He had brought me a bouquet of my favorite baby's breath, proudly showing me the tattoo of my name on his collarbone like a giddy teenager. He had pulled me into a tight, desperate hug, his voice thick with emotion.

"Kathryn, I'll grant you any birthday wish you make. Anything."

After a long moment, I gently pulled away from his embrace and looked him straight in the eye.

"My birthday wish," I said, my voice clear and steady, "is to divorce the man you'll become."

Staring at the divorce papers on the table, the eighteen-year-old Alexanders eyes turned red. "Did did he hurt you?"

He couldn't possibly imagine it. Because at eighteen, we were squeezed into a tiny studio apartment, gazing at the stars and dreaming of our future. I was there when he earned his first real paycheck. I watched as he became a rising star in the real estate world, and then, as he topped the list of the city's wealthiest people.

During his acceptance speech, the only person he thanked was the passionate, gentle Kathryn he knew at eighteen. Everyone said we were a match made in heaven.

When did it all turn sour?

Maybe it was the night he got blackout drunk and called me from another woman's bed. I forced myself to listen to the sordid sounds all night long. When he finally came home three days later, I faced him with swollen eyes. "You promised you'd never change"

He reeked of cheap perfume but still pulled me into a gentle embrace. "My promise hasn't changed, Kathryn. I still love you." He sighed dramatically. "But what can I do? Scarlett, Victoria, and Amber they're all crying, waiting for me to show up."

I fought them. I confronted each one, naively believing that if I could just get rid of them, everything would be okay again.

But I was so, so naive. They were just the tip of the iceberg.

Alexander grew more depraved, sleeping his way through my classmates, my friends, my colleagues Before I could even react, he would calmly remind me, "If you keep digging, you'll only find more ugliness in this marriage. Don't humiliate yourself."

Then came the final blow. "Your mother's health is what's important, isn't it?"

He was threatening me.

That was the first time I felt true fear. The twenty-five-year-old Alexander was a stranger, a monster who had devoured the boy I once loved.

Back in that moment, the eighteen-year-old Alexander wiped a tear from my cheek, his hand trembling as he signed the papers. He wept, apologizing for the man he was horrified to become seven years in the future.

I blew out the candles on the cake he gave me, feeling a profound sense of release.

Maybe this was a step I should have taken a long, long time ago.

Giant screens across the city flashed a rolling message: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ISA.

Paparazzi snapped photos of Alexander kissing her passionately against the window of a seaside villa, then taking her to a high-profile auction where he bought out the entire room just for her. Fireworks worth a fortune exploded in the sky above.

I glanced at the dead rat on my floor and let out a bitter laugh.

The socialites in our circle were having a field day.

"She can't even keep her husband on a leash. How pathetic."

"Isa is, what, number ninety-nine? Kathryn wins the award for the most cheated-on wife in the city, again."

"Well, it's her own fault for not being able to have a baby. No heir, no power."

...

Every word on the screen was a needle in my heart.

When I was pregnant, I got into a car accident. In a moment of panic, I accidentally video-called Alexander. The first thing I saw was his arm wrapped around my closest friend. His voice was sharp with irritation.

"Stop calling to check up on me. It's pathetic and it just makes me sick of you."

He hung up. I lost the baby, and with it, my ability to ever have children again.

He had once picked out names for our future kids: "Noah" and "Anna."

I found out later, from Isa's social media, that those were now the names of her two lap dogs.

Maybe Alexander had been telling me all along that we had no future.

That night, as I was packing my bags, the front door was violently thrown open. Alexander stood there, his face a thunderous mask, his eyes practically bleeding fury. "Kathryn! You drugged Isa and thought you could just walk away? You've got some nerve!"

Before I could process his words, a stinging slap sent my head reeling.

I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my mouth and sneered, "Is this another one of your kinky games?"

Alexander scoffed, throwing a stack of photos in my face. They showed Isa, her clothes in disarray, grinding against other men on a dance floor. One even showed her lying on the auction stage like a prize to be won, as men frantically bid on her.

"You knew I was taking her to the auction for fun, and you hired someone to drug her! You've ruined her reputation!" His face was contorted with rage, veins bulging on his forehead.

I remembered the time a client had groped my thigh, and Alexander had told me to just endure it for the sake of the deal. He never once stood up for me. But here he was, losing his mind because Isa had made a fool of herself at a party.

I suppressed the bitterness rising in my throat. "I'm not that bored."

Just then, Isa came running from the car, a picture of tear-streaked, trembling vulnerability. "Mrs. Knight, the waiter said the drink was from you, that's the only reason I drank it! I can't believe you'd do this to me" She sobbed. "My life is ruined! You might as well just kill me now!"

She grabbed my hand and tried to make me hit her.

Alexander's eyes were filled with pure disgust for me. "Kathryn, what else do you have to say for yourself?" he snarled. "I've spoiled you rotten! First, you invent some phantom lover to spite me, and now you hurt Isa. You're beyond saving!"

His cold glare pierced me. I felt utterly exhausted. "I said I didn't do it! I don't care who you screw around with, I can't be bothered!"

His eyes widened in momentary shock.

Just then, Isa pulled out her phone and started a live stream, pretending to rip off her own dress. "It's true! I'm lying about Mrs. Knight! I'm just a cheap slut who wanted to sell herself! I'll do it right now!"

Her melodramatic act sent Alexander into a panic. He grabbed her arms, his voice laced with pain. "I know it's not your fault, Isa. Don't be foolish."

Then, his venomous gaze landed back on me.

"You're the one who did something wrong. So why don't you live stream a strip show? I'll pay you. Ten thousand dollars for every piece of clothing."

I stared at him in horror, my voice a strangled whisper. "You want me to... live stream?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Alexander! I don't want your damn money!"

He let out a cold laugh and pulled out his own phone, tapping on the screen. A moment later, a frantic call came from the hospital.

"Mrs. Knight, our system shows your bank account has been frozen! Your mother's condition is critical, we can't afford any delays!"

My world collapsed. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

I looked up and met Alexander's smug, cruel smile. "How about now? Tell me, do you want my money now?"

I felt like I'd been turned to stone. Even breathing was painful. "You're a vile, despicable bastard!"

The man who once swore to give me the world, who said I was more precious than his own life, was now using my mother's life to choke the last bit of dignity from me.

As another desperate call from the hospital buzzed, I finally surrendered.

Facing the camera of Isa's live stream, I began to unbutton my coat, my movements numb and robotic. The viewer count skyrocketed. Vile comments flashed across the screen.

"Damn, she must be a D-cup! You can't even tell when she's dressed."

"So this is the great tycoon's wife? What a piece of trash."

"All that high and mighty act for nothing. In the end, she's just a show for us regular folks."

A crowd was gathering. We were in a neighborhood of mansions, surrounded by the city's elite. As I removed my inner layers, there was a collective gasp. The curve of my breast was exposed to the cold night air. The jeering, mocking stares felt like a thousand tiny needles piercing my skin.

"This is what happens to pathetic women. Worse than being a mistress."

"What an embarrassment to our circle. Disgusting."

Alexander, the man who had once crowned me the city's most enviable wife, was now the one reducing me to their laughingstock. He stood there, composed and cool, only the flickering light in his eyes betraying the storm within. Isa eagerly zoomed the camera in, making sure to capture every inch of my exposed skin.

"Wow, lots of guys are sending gifts for Mrs. Knight!" she chirped. "Don't you worry, I'll cash them all out for you later. You've earned it!"

My entire body was shaking uncontrollably. As the last piece of fabric slipped from my fingers, Alexander moved with lightning speed, throwing his overcoat over my shoulders.

"Are you really this shameless, Kathryn?!" he hissed.

He leaned in, and his nose twitched. He frowned. "This scent..." His eyes narrowed with a new fury. "Kathryn, you really did it! You actually went out and found another man?!"

It was the first perfume he had ever bought me, with money he saved up from a part-time job when he was eighteen.

He had forgotten.

Before I could say a word, he ripped the coat away, leaving me completely naked in front of everyone.

"You want to debase yourself? Fine! I'll help you!"

Tears welled in my eyes, but I didn't care anymore. Another pair of eyes, another hundred it made no difference.

Finally, as if tossing a bone to a dog, he threw a credit card at my feet and hurled my clothes into the nearby river. "Good job. Send my regards to your mother."

He wrapped his arm around Isa's shoulders and walked away in triumph.

A moment later, my phone buzzed with a notification. It was from the hospital.

A death certificate.

In an instant, the last ounce of strength that had been holding me up vanished into thin air.