Substitute Bride: My Mysterious Loser Husband

AVERY POV:

The biting Boston winter wind slapped my face as I burst out of the building, but it couldn't cool the boiling disgust in my veins.

"Avery! Will you just stop throwing a tantrum?"

Heavy footsteps pounded behind me. Trevor, wearing nothing but sweatpants and a custom Briar Hockey jacket, rushed out and grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight, almost punishing.

"Don't fucking touch me!" I violently yanked my arm away, wiping my wrist against my jeans.

He sighed, rolling his eyes as if I were a misbehaving child. "Look, I said I was sorry, okay? Sienna and I... it was just physical. She threw herself at me. You know how rich girls are, they're used to getting what they want. Plus, her family has connections that can get me drafted into the NHL."

He actually sounded proud of it. He stepped closer, his tone shifting into a sickening, condescending whisper. "But you know you're the one I actually want to come home to. You're good at taking care of me. Listen, I know you're desperate for Hannah's surgery money. If you just calm down, act like a good girlfriend, and pretend this didn't happen, I can ask Sienna to give me some money to lend to you. Think about it, Avery. It's a win-win."

I stared at him, my blood running completely cold.

He wanted to use the money from his cheating partner to "buy" my silence and keep me as his obedient little maid.

I looked at the expensive, custom leather jacket he was wearing. I bought that for him. To afford it, I ate cheap instant noodles for three months and wore thrift store clothes with holes in the pockets.

Memories of the past three years flashed before my eyes like a mocking highlight reel. I remembered waking up at 5:00 AM every single day to meal-prep his strict athlete diet. I remembered kneeling on the freezing bathroom floor, massaging his bruised knees with ice packs after every brutal game while he complained about the pain. I even gave up a prestigious out-of-state design internship just so I could stay in Boston and "support his hockey dreams."

I gave him my youth, my sweat, and every penny I had. And in return, he thought my dignity could be bought with a few scraps of charity.

A bitter, raw laugh escaped my lips. "A win-win?" I whispered, shaking my head. "Trevor, you are truly the most disgusting, narcissistic piece of garbage I have ever met."

Before he could react, I reached up and violently unclasped the thin silver chain around my neck. The pendant—a tiny ice hockey puck engraved with our initials—was his first and only gift to me.

I threw it as hard as I could. The metal struck his cheekbone with a sharp smack before clattering onto the icy concrete.

Then, I reached into my pocket, pulled out the few crumpled twenty-dollar bills I had left, and threw them directly at his face. The bills fluttered down around him.

"Here," I sneered, my voice dripping with absolute contempt. "Consider that payment for your 'services' over the last three years. Though honestly, you weren't even worth that much. We're done."

Trevor stood frozen, staring at the scattered cash. His arrogant facade cracked, replaced instantly by a livid, bruised ego.

"You ungrateful bitch!" he snarled, his true colors finally showing. "You think you're so high and mighty? Look at you! Without me, you're nothing but a broke, pathetic orphan! Good luck finding anyone else who will put up with your depressing life!"

My phone chimed. A text from Sienna.

It was a photo. She was wearing Trevor's jersey, posing in front of the smashed anniversary cake on the floor, holding up a manicured middle finger. Caption: Thanks for the cake and the man, loser.

The grief I should have felt was instantly incinerated by white-hot rage.

I didn't give Trevor another glance. I blocked Sienna's number, blocked his, and walked away into the dark street. I didn't shed a single tear. Crying was a luxury for the weak, and I had exactly 71 hours left to save Hannah.