My Trashy Husband Framed Me For His Affair, So I Left Him For Good

To promote our mealprep ghost kitchen as the "cleanest eats in town," my husband, Tyler, forced me—his pregnant wife—to host a livestream.

He wanted me to eat ten of our signature Teriyaki Bowls backtoback, just to prove our food would never cause food poisoning.

Sympathizing with how hard he worked to launch his business, I swallowed my pride and agreed.

But just as my stomach started cramping so badly that I had to run to the bathroom to throw up, I heard the unmistakable sounds of Tyler and his gorgeous female investor hooking up in the back office. "Baby, I did exactly what you wanted," Tyler panted. "I made that plain country girl eat ten whole chicken bowls in a row.

Her stomach is practically bursting.

Are you happy now?" "So happy..." Chloe’s sultry voice drifted through the door, followed by a soft moan. "Don't worry, your next round of investment money is practically in your account." Their breathless whispers were drowned out by more groans.

Clutching my cramping stomach, I felt a sudden, terrifying warmth dripping down my thighs. I was bleeding. I was terrified.

Fearing for my baby, I dragged myself along the corridor wall, trying to find Tyler so he could call 911.

But through the crack of the office door, I saw Tyler passionately caressing Chloe’s bare back. "Your skin is so soft," Tyler murmured. "Not like Hazel.

Her hands are so rough they feel like sandpaper." "So when are you going to divorce that plain Jane?" Chloe purred. "My dad said he won't invest another dime until I’m officially the coowner of this place." "As soon as the kitchen’s running smoothly, I’ll bring it up," Tyler promised, kissing her neck. "If I divorce her now, who’s going to do all the heavy lifting?

I can't let your beautiful hands get ruined, sweetheart." "Oh, stop it, you flirt!" Right before my eyes, Chloe casually tossed a used condom aside.

It landed right inside the giant pot of teriyaki glaze—the very pot I spent hours scrubbing every single night. Tyler and I had been together for five years.

When he started this business, I did all the heavy lifting, cleaning, and managing, even throughout my pregnancy. But to him, I was nothing but free labor.

I slid down to the cold floor, letting the blood stain my clothes, until Tyler finally walked out and found me. "Hazel? Why are you sitting on the floor? Is the livestream over?

How were the views?" I let out a bitter, weak laugh and grabbed his arm. "Tyler, please... take me to the hospital. The baby..." He finally noticed the blood pooling around me.

For a second, he looked shocked and reached down to scoop me up.

But Chloe stepped out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, Tyler, a little spotting is totally normal in the first trimester. I heard some girls even get their periods then.

Don't let a minor scare ruin our big day." "I finally got that local food reporter to agree to an interview today.

If we miss this slot, we might never get another chance." Chloe pulled a pad out of her designer purse and threw it at my feet.

Tyler frowned, looking down at me with mild annoyance. "Hazel, just tough it out. Stop being so dramatic. You're already past three months; the baby is stable.

It's not that easy to lose it." My heart shattered. "Tyler, please... I'm begging you. I'm scared..." Before I could finish, another wave of intense nausea hit me.

My stomach burned, and I rushed back to the toilet, vomiting violently. When I finished, there was a harsh knock on the bathroom door.

Tyler's voice was cold. "Once you're done throwing up, get to the kitchen and clean up.

The reporter will be here in ten minutes." I wiped my mouth, sitting on the cold tiles, completely drained of strength. "I'm sick, Tyler.

Do it yourself." Tyler's voice flared with anger. "Hazel! You said you supported my dream! Is this how you show it? If you slack off now, how am I supposed to explain this to Chloe?

She put so much money into this place!" "You're being incredibly selfish!" He kicked the door open and dragged me out by my arm, ignoring how pale and weak I was.

The condom in the glaze pot was gone—he must have fished it out before dragging me in. But the kitchen was still a disaster.

Food prep was scattered everywhere, and sticky liquids coated the floor.

Clutching my stomach, too weak from the cramping and blood loss to fight him, I silently picked up a rag and began to clean. Only then did Tyler's frown soften.

Chloe walked in, inspecting my work. She pointed her manicured finger at a tiny grease spot deep under the prep table. "You missed a spot.

And here Tyler was, boasting about how neat and clean you are." Without a second thought, Tyler grabbed my shoulder and shoved me down, forcing me to crawl under the counter to scrub it, completely ignoring my pregnant belly.

I swallowed my dignity, literally kneeling at Chloe's feet to clean her mess. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her smirk.

By the time I finished, my lower back was screaming in pain. I couldn't even stand up straight.

Tyler walked up behind me and patted my shoulder. "Chloe and I are doing the interview together. I'm going to tell them she's my cofounder and partner.

Just... hide in the back, okay? Don't show your face." A sharp pain pierced my chest.

I forced myself to look Tyler dead in the eye. "Tyler, you told me I was the only coowner of this place.

You said I was your queen." He looked uncomfortable and quickly averted his gaze. "Hazel, try to understand.

I've sacrificed so much to make this business succeed." "An owner's image matters for PR.

Look at your face, look at your clothes... how can you possibly compare to Chloe?" I looked down at my reflection in the stainless steel sink I had just polished.

My makeup was completely ruined by sweat and tears. I looked pathetic. There was a commotion at the front door. The media crew had arrived.

Hearing the voices, Tyler panicked and shoved me into the tiny staff bathroom. I huddled in the dark, listening to Tyler enthusiastically show the reporters around the kitchen.

I heard him introduce Chloe as his beautiful partner, and heard the crew tease them about what a gorgeous power couple they were.

I felt completely numb, my heart breaking into a million jagged pieces. Suddenly, someone outside mentioned needing to use the restroom.

Before Tyler could stop him, the bathroom door swung open. The reporter gasped, startled to find me shivering on the floor. "Uh, Tyler? Who is this?

Why is there a woman hiding in the bathroom?"

Tyler jumped in to explain. "Oh! That's my cousin! I hired her to help with the deep cleaning." "She just moved here from a small farm up north.

She's extremely shy and doesn't know much about the city, so she probably got scared of the cameras and hid.

Apologies, everyone." The crew nodded, but their eyes were filled with disgust as they looked at my stained, vomitcovered clothes.

The man who needed the bathroom grabbed my arm and dragged me out impatiently. "Come on, cousin. Get out of here.

Were you planning on watching me pee?" "God, she made the bathroom smell awful..." His look of sheer disgust made me want to shrink into the floor.

I looked at Tyler, begging for help with my eyes, but he looked away, completely ignoring me. I crawled into the darkest corner of the kitchen to hide.

The interview wrapped up quickly. Tyler invited the media crew out for dinner. Clutching my aching back, I decided to just slip away and go home.

But Chloe's eyes locked onto me. "Why don't you come with us, cousin? Don't be shy. You've probably never been to a French bistro before.

The bathrooms there are lovely." A few crew members snickered. I wanted to say no, but Tyler gave me a hard, pleading look, begging me to play along.

Remembering our five years together, my stupid heart softened, and I nodded. But when we reached the entrance of the upscale restaurant, the manager blocked me.

His eyes scanned my stained clothes with utter disdain. "Excuse me, miss, but we have a strict dress code.

Smart casual or formal attire only." "Your... current state might disturb our other guests.

I must ask you to leave." Chloe gasped dramatically, pretending to be apologetic. "Oh, I totally forgot about the dress code! Sorry, cousin.

I guess you'll have to head back." Her eyes gleamed with triumphant mockery as she looked down her nose at me. Everyone was staring.

I clutched the hem of my dirty shirt, burning with humiliation. Then, Tyler stepped toward me. Everyone held their breath, expecting him to defend me.

Instead, he gave me a harsh shove. "Didn't you hear Chloe? Stop embarrassing me. There's some leftover chicken rice back at the kitchen.

Go back and eat that." I lost my balance and tumbled backward down the concrete steps. My stomach hit the edge of a step hard.

A sharp, blinding pain shot through me, and the bleeding that had briefly stopped gushed out again. Tyler didn't even look back.

He wrapped his arm around Chloe’s waist and walked into the restaurant. I lay on the cold pavement for a long time before a kind stranger finally called 911.

At the hospital, the doctor gave me the devastating news: the baby was gone.

The combination of forced overeating, physical trauma from the fall, and stress had caused a miscarriage.

I stared blankly at the hospital ceiling, completely hollowed out. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Tyler. I'm sorry, Hazel.

I know you felt hurt, but you have to understand how hard it is to start a business. Chloe is crucial for our funding. If we play nice with her, it's good for our future.

Is the baby okay? I didn't reply. I deleted the message. Five years of love and devotion, and all I got in return was disgust.

Now that my baby was gone, I had absolutely no reason to stay with him. I discharged myself and went back to our apartment alone to pack.

On the nightstand, I saw a framed photo of us. I was holding an ice cream cone, laughing. It was taken four years ago in Central Park.

I remembered Tyler had just graduated and barely had enough money for a decent meal. But because I wanted ice cream, he spent his last few dollars on it, going hungry himself.

My eyes teared up. Was all of that love just a lie? I picked up the frame to pack it, but as I did, the back slid open, revealing another photo hidden behind ours.

It was Tyler and Chloe. She was holding a massive bouquet of red roses—the kind of roses Tyler had never once bought for me.

The timestamp on the photo was from the year they first met. My heart shattered into dust. He had replaced me long before today. Suddenly, my phone vibrated.

It was a text from one of our delivery drivers who knew me well. Hey Hazel, you need to see this right now! He attached a TikTok link.

The title read: The Dirty Truth Behind the "Cleanest Ghost Kitchen in Town." I opened the video. It was our kitchen.

The video showed a blurredout couple hooking up right on the prep tables, knocking over spices and sauces, leaving a sticky, disgusting mess everywhere.

But the worst part was the ending: a used condom floating in the giant pot of teriyaki glaze. I knew instantly it was Tyler and Chloe.

I scrolled down to the comments. "Please don't tell me that fluid on the prep table is what I think it is...

I'm going to throw up." "This isn't just a dirty kitchen, this is a health hazard and a crime against humanity.

I am never ordering food online again." Local business owners and drivers were texting me, asking if someone was trying to frame us. Before I could reply, the front door burst open.

Tyler and Chloe rushed in, looking frantic. Seeing me, Tyler's eyes turned bloodshot. He grabbed my arm. "Hazel, I need your help.

Now." He saw the video playing on my phone, and his eyes widened. "This video... someone is trying to ruin us.

It's obviously edited, but it's destroying the business's reputation..." He glanced at Chloe, then looked back at me. "Chloe and I talked.

There's only one way to fix this, and we need you."

Tyler stared into my eyes. "You need to release a statement saying the woman in the video is you.

Once you take the blame, I'll 'divorce' you publicly to save the business." "You're pregnant. If you play the emotional card and apologize, the public will forgive you eventually.

No one will keep harassing a pregnant woman." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I shook with pure rage. "Are you insane, Tyler?!

If I claim that's me, do you have any idea what people will call me?

I won't even be able to show my face in public!" Seeing my refusal, Tyler's face darkened instantly. "If you don't take the blame, who will? Chloe?

She's an heiress with a highprofile family! Her reputation can't be ruined!" "Hazel, you're different. You're just a housewife.

What does it matter if people talk about you?" I let out a cold laugh, about to scream at him, but Chloe lost her patience. "Tyler, stop wasting your breath on her.

She's just a farm girl who cleans kitchen floors. She doesn't understand highstakes business." Tyler looked at me with deep disappointment.

Without another word, he grabbed a rope and tied my hands behind my back. I thrashed and screamed, but I was too weak to fight him off.

Chloe pulled out her phone and started recording me. Then she opened her laptop and began editing.

Right before my eyes, she used a deepfake app to paste my face onto the woman in the hookup video. As the render bar loaded, I shook my head violently at Tyler.

But he pulled out a small brown pill bottle. His face was grim. "I didn't want to use this because of the baby, but you're not giving me a choice." "Just bear with it, Hazel.

It'll be over soon." He forced the liquid sedative down my throat. Almost instantly, my head began to spin.

I saw Tyler holding up a prewritten confession script, trying to force me to read it on camera. Desperate, I reached into my pocket, trying to dial 911.

But Tyler noticed and slapped the phone out of my hand. His eyes were wild, completely consumed by desperation. "Hazel, why are you being so difficult?

If the business goes under, how are we supposed to feed you and the baby?!" Using the last of my strength, I broke free and ran toward the open window, preparing to jump to escape this nightmare.

Tyler gasped and lunged forward, catching me just in time. He dragged me back onto the floor, and my vision finally faded into pitch black. When I woke up, I was lying in our bed.

Tyler was sitting beside me. Seeing my eyes open, he sighed in relief. "Don't worry, everything is taken care of. Just stay off social media for a few days.

Don't stress, it's bad for the baby." I looked at him, my heart completely dead. "Isn't there one more step to your perfect plan? The divorce?" Tyler stiffened.

He slowly pulled out the divorce papers and handed them to me. I grabbed a pen and signed my name without a single second of hesitation.

Then, I snatched our marriage certificate and ripped it into tiny shreds right in front of him. Tyler hesitated. "Hazel... don't worry.

Once this all blows over, we'll get remarried. You're still my wife." I didn't say a word. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Get some rest.

Oh, and... you should probably go to the clinic to make sure that sedative didn't affect the baby." "Sure," I whispered. Tyler quickly left to celebrate his "victory" with Chloe.

I got up and packed the very few things I owned. Looking around, I realized how pathetic my life had been. Almost everything I owned was from before our marriage.

In five years, Tyler had never bought me a single thing. What a joke my marriage had been. I realized my belongings were pitifully few.

In the end, I only took the ultrasound photo as a keepsake, and left everything else behind. I headed straight back to my parents' organic farm in upstate New York.

Tyler and Chloe spent the night partying at a luxury hotel. When he got back to the apartment and found it empty, he didn't think much of it.

He sent a casual text asking where I was. But hours passed, and I didn't reply. He started to feel uneasy.

He called the clinic where I usually did my prenatal checkups. "Hi, did my wife, Hazel Brooks, come in for an appointment today?" The receptionist checked the records. "No, Mrs.

Brooks hasn't been in today. Are you her husband?" "Yes. She hasn't come home. I thought she was there for her prenatal checkup." "Prenatal checkup? But sir... Mrs.

Brooks suffered a complete miscarriage when she was admitted three days ago due to physical trauma."