---- Chapter 9 Back in our LA home, the silence was deafening. Every photograph of us smiling, every shared object, felt like a mockery. | moved through the rooms, a ghost in my own life. My first act was symbolic, a small but necessary detachment. | went to Michael's closet, his side of the bathroom. | gathered his expensive colognes, his silk ties, the monogrammed cufflinks I'd given him for our anniversary. | dumped them all into a trash bag. It wasn't much, but it was a start. Then, my phone buzzed. A notification from a society blog Elizabeth followed. A new post, with pictures from the "Welcome Baby" brunch. There was Michael, beaming, Serena on his arm, holding "Michael Junior." The caption: "Startup guru Michael Thorne and his lovely partner Serena Cole celebrate the arrival of their beautiful son. A picture-perfect family!" His lovely partner. Not his wife. The erasure was so casual, so complete. | was being written out of my own life, replaced before I'd even ---- fully understood the betrayal. The pain was a fresh wave, sharp and visceral. They weren't even trying to hide it anymore. Or perhaps, they thought | was already too broken to fight back. The public display, the implicit acceptance of Serena as his partner, his wife-in-waiting, it was a clear message. | was disposable. My pregnancy, our child, an inconvenience to be managed or ignored. The shock gave way to a cold, hard anger. They wanted to erase me? Fine. | would erase them.