Chapter 1
My wife, Faye Nash, was allergic to male fluids. Even the slightest skin contact would make her break out in angry red hives.
Three years of marriage had passed without a single moment of intimacy between us. Even our baby was an IVF baby.
Then during a routine prenatal checkup, a deranged patient went berserk. I took multiple knife wounds while protecting her, and I clung to life by clinging to thoughts of her and our unborn child.
The day I was discharged from the hospital, a video arrived on my phone.
There she was, my wife, tangled up with another man. Her skin looked flawless except for the hickey stamped on her chest. Not a single hive was in sight.
I looked up from the screen. She sat across from me now, carefully peeling an apple. A mask covered her face, her collar was buttoned to her neck, and her hands were gloved. She had fortified herself against me.
The video's timestamp showed that it was barely a day old. My fingers shook as I reached for her buttons, but she slapped my hand away.
"Don't touch me!" she shouted. "Get away from me!"
Her eyes held the same revulsion that someone would reserve for something vile.
Then it dawned on me. She was not allergic to men. She was just allergic to me.
While she changed in the bathroom, I unblocked a number that I had blacklisted five years ago. The reply came back in an instant. "Send me your location. I am on my way."
She stepped out of the bathroom moments later. Without a second glance, she dumped the designer dress, which had been worn exactly once, straight into the trash can. The dress landed with a soft thunk.
"That was your birthday present," I muttered.
Faye's voice turned to ice. "You tainted it. No amount of scrubbing will get rid of your smell."
She noticed my devastation and softened her tone. "Trent, you know I cannot stand male contact. You are injured. Do not work yourself up."
Like tossing a coin to a beggar, she layered fuzzy gloves over her medical ones and patted my hand.
That tiny, gloved pat broke me completely. I wrenched my hand away as my throat began to burn. "Faye, am I really that disgusting to you?"
Faye hesitated for only a heartbeat, and her delicate brows furrowed. "Trent Brook, I have cut you some slack because you got hurt protecting me. The least you could do is return the favor. I went against my own rules to have your baby. Do not start a fight right now."
As the CEO of a publicly traded company, Faye was constantly buried in work. Even when I was being wheeled into surgery yesterday, she had shown up two hours late while claiming that some urgent meeting had kept her away.
But that damning video revealed the ugly truth. Her so-called business meetings were just her getting busy between the sheets with another man.
She had done this while carrying our child, no less. The audacity of it all was staggering.
A bitter laugh escaped my throat. "Faye, what were you really doing during my surgery yesterday?"
A flash of guilt flickered across her face, but before she could respond, a cheerful voice rang out from the doorway. It was Silas Vance, her childhood friend of more than ten years.
"Faye, how is Trent holding up?" he asked.
The door swung open to reveal Silas carrying two oversized fruit baskets. He wore a casual hoodie and sneakers, and he looked every bit the effortlessly cool guy. Without missing a beat, he strode to Faye's side and, with an easy familiarity that made my blood boil, dabbed his slightly sweaty palm on her forehead.
"You are working yourself to the bone!" he said. "Even if you do not care about yourself, at least think of the baby!"
To my utter disbelief, Faye did not pull away. Instead, she even leaned into his touch and tilted her head slightly in submission. Her skin remained smooth and unblemished where he had touched her. There was not so much as a hint of the allergic reactions that she always had with me.
