He Took Her to Bed, I Sent Them to Hell

I had always been the supportive wife, the woman behind the successful man. I'd always done what Anthony said, so the next day I tied my hair back and set up a flower stand outside Clearview University's gates.

On the wrapping paper of each bouquet, I thoughtfully printed screenshots of Sienna and Anthony's chat messages.

Over the years, I'd been a frequent presence at Clearview. The students and faculty all knew me well. The moment I appeared at the campus gates, students Anthony had taught gathered around.

"Mrs. Rivera, why are you selling flowers out here? Did something happen between you and Dr. Rivera?"

I handed him a wrapped bouquet. "Nothing much. Your professor just needs to support an extra household now.

"Don't laugh at me, but young ladies always want more. I'm worried your professor can't keep up."

I released all my venom, deliberately making cruel, veiled remarks about Anthony and Sienna. Within a day, rumors about Anthony and his young protégée spread like wildfire across campus.

So when I wheeled out my flower cart the second time, a group of thugs rushed over and trampled every flower.

"Lady, someone wants me to give you a message. Drop it before things get worse."

Of course, I didn't take the advice. That same day, I cried my way from the security office to the dean's office, and finally called the mayor's hotline.

Anthony was summoned for a meeting. That evening, he didn't linger at the university. He came home early.

"Brielle, that's enough."

I laughed bitterly. "Enough? We're just getting started, Anthony. You did something disgusting. Are you scared now?"

He sighed heavily and tossed his briefcase onto the couch, his face tight with displeasure. "Brielle, if you hadn't made such a scene, we could've talked this through."

He looked at me like I'd disappointed him. "If this marriage falls apart, you'll only have yourself to blame."

Was he blaming me? Was he blaming me for being hysterical and destroying the superficial harmony of this rotten marriage?

He was the one who'd been unfaithful after 20 years together. Now he stood on moral high ground, accusing me of being unhinged, claiming my erratic behavior had driven him away from our family.

"Anthony, did I make you cheat?"

He laughed coldly. "Brielle, have you forgotten who brought Sienna into this house?"

My heart dropped. A crushing wave of nausea overwhelmed me.

That young woman was someone I'd sponsored and taken in. I'd brought her into our home and cared for her like a daughter for nearly ten years.

"Anthony, you make me sick."

For the first time, we looked at each other like strangers. Anthony moved out that night, and Sienna went with him.

…

I watched Anthony Rivera on stage and smiled. I'd told him I wouldn't make this easy.

Security was trying to control the situation. Clearview University's graduation ceremony always drew attention, but now every reporter's camera and student's phone pointed at Anthony and me.

He dragged me to the faculty lounge.

"Brielle."

The panic on his face lasted only a moment. Now he was the revered Dr. Rivera again, cold and composed. "You know what today is. What are you thinking?"

Of course I knew. The graduation ceremony coincided with the university's centennial celebration. Alumni who'd made names for themselves in business and politics had returned to attend.

More importantly, there was one key figure whose opinion would determine whether Anthony became vice president of the university.

That was Dr. Lance Zuber, a member of both the National Academy of Sciences and the National Academy of Engineering. And my connection with the Zuber family started with a single bouquet of roses.

It happened one Valentine's Day years ago. Dr. Zuber had been absorbed in his research and forgotten about his wife waiting at home.

People always said the elderly became like children again. The couple had an argument, and Mrs. Zuber left the house. They ended up bickering in front of my flower stand over a bouquet of roses.

I gave Mrs. Zuber the last of the roses on my cart and told a white lie. "Your husband specially asked me to save these for you."

Dr. Zuber made up with his wife, and we became friends after that. Mrs. Zuber loved flowers, so Dr. Zuber came to my stand every week to buy a bouquet for her.

Then one ordinary evening, a drunk man showed up and started smashing my flower stand for no reason. The person who caught the drunk's fist before it landed on me was Anthony.

He had no talent for fighting. After a few exchanges, his face was already bruised. But with sheer reckless courage, he drove the drunk away.

He offered to stay and help me clean up the mess. Later, he met Dr. Zuber, who came by at his usual time to buy flowers.

Beside my destroyed flower stand, Anthony and Dr. Zuber talked about academics and philosophy. By the time they'd nearly become friends despite their age difference, Dr. Zuber discovered Anthony was a graduate student at his university.

So Dr. Zuber broke his tradition of not taking students and took Anthony under his wing.

After that, the task of buying flowers for Mrs. Zuber fell to Anthony. What had been once a week became two or three times a week. Eventually, it was daily.

He often bought roses and violets. Violets were my favorite flower.

The day he graduated and Dr. Zuber offered him a faculty position, Anthony showed up with a bouquet.

"What, are you trying to compete with me now?" I looked at the vibrant violets in his arms.

Then, Anthony knelt on one knee and proposed. Everything fell into place naturally.

After we married, I worked from home writing novels to support myself. That was when Anthony learned I'd also studied literature. Selling flowers was just a side business. After all, the writing industry was brutally competitive.

The flowers remained, but the person had changed. All that was left was bitter regret.

At least in this life, I'd only encountered one heartbreak, only one scumbag named Anthony Rivera. It wasn't too late to start over.