She Called It Treatment

I'd just put the condom on when someone started pounding on the door.

My wife, Jocelyn Gill, shoved me aside, panic all over her face.

I shot a glare at the door.

Her adopted brother, Calvin Tyler, stood there, flushed, staring at her. The bulge in his pants wasn't subtle.

"Jocelyn, please help me. I feel awful. I think I'm having an episode!"

Seeing him like that, nothing like before, my temper snapped.

"Then go get treated. Why are you barging into your sister's room? You got no shame? You can't even get married because of this, so now you're wrecking mine?"

Jocelyn rushed over and slapped me.

"Finley, how can you say that? Calvin's still a kid. How could he think something that disgusting? Before his parents died, they asked me to take care of him. I'm a psychiatrist—if I don't treat him, how do I face them? You're acting nothing like a brother-in-law. Apologize to Calvin right now, or we're getting divorced!"

In two years of marriage, I'd lost count of how many times she'd pulled that card over Calvin.

Back then, I'd risked my life just to win her.

She thought I'd never leave.

She was wrong.

This time, I was done loving her.

I didn't react like before. Just stood there, watching them.

Before, I would've blown up at Jocelyn—then ended up apologizing anyway.

That's what she expected this time.

Jocelyn glanced at me, unfazed, then grabbed Calvin's arm and hurried him into the living room.

"This is your first time reacting like this. That's a good start. Does it feel swollen? Sit—let me check. What matters most right now is breaking down your mental blocks. Hold it like this—better? Yeah, keep that rhythm. Try it yourself. Not too hard. Tomorrow night, we'll try again."

Her soft voice mixed with Calvin's heavy breathing.

Each second dug deeper into my chest.

I shut the bedroom door, dropped onto the cold floor, and texted my former assistant.

[Mason, bring the divorce papers tomorrow. Follow what we discussed.]

The reply came fast:

[Yes, sir!]

[Mrs. Flint really doesn't know what's good for her!]

My chest tightened. I didn't reply.

A second later, my phone rang. My dad.

Before he could say a word, I cut him off, voice rough. "Dad, I'll take over the company. I start tomorrow."

He laughed, relieved. "Good. As long as you're back. Men in this family know how to start over."

After I hung up, the pressure in my chest eased a little.

Jocelyn took Calvin straight to the study, said she needed to monitor her patient's progress.

The faint sounds through the door made everything feel unreal.

For two years, I gave everything to this relationship—even put up with a grown man hovering around my wife.

And what did I get?

My dignity, crushed under their feet.

It took a while before Jocelyn came back.

She saw me in the living room, cheeks flushed, a hint of exhaustion on her face.

"Finley, are you trying to start something again? You're Calvin's brother-in-law. No matter what, you shouldn't have said that today. If you don't ease the pain in his heart, don't even think about showing up in front of me again."

I said nothing.

Maybe she got impatient. She tossed something down and stormed into the bedroom, locking the door.

I stayed up all night in the living room.

At dawn, Jocelyn walked past me and left with Calvin. Then her father, Robert, called.

The second I picked up, he started cursing. "Finley, you getting bold now? How dare you upset Jocelyn!

"So what if Calvin stays at your place? He's her brother. What's inappropriate about that? Only someone dirty would think that way!

"Here's what you're gonna do—today's Calvin's birthday. Bring a lawyer, get it notarized, and put Calvin's name on your mansion. Then apologize and compensate him. We'll call it even."

I almost laughed.

When I didn't answer, his voice turned even sharper.

"Don't push your luck. If this gets back to Jocelyn, it won't just be about the house!"

Before I could say anything, a message popped up in the neighborhood group chat.

A photo.

Jocelyn and Calvin stood close in the underground garage.

Her hands rested on his waist, their eyes soft.

His arm wrapped around her, his hand slipping like it was about to go under her clothes.

The chat blew up, tagging me nonstop.

[@Finley, your wife... that guy doesn't look like you.]

I gripped my phone tighter.

Robert was still yelling in my ear.

I lowered my head and let out a dry laugh.

I thought everything I'd done for the Gills these past two years would earn their approval.

Now I got it.

To them, I was never a person.

Just a rich idiot for Jocelyn to use—a walking ATM.

I tightened my grip, steadied my voice. "Robert, I'll be there soon. We can sign then."

Only then did he stop ranting.

His tone flipped, suddenly pleased. "That's more like it. Use your head and Jocelyn will like you just fine. It's Calvin's birthday—don't forget something expensive."

I didn't answer.

All I felt was cold.