Just one month after my parents’ unexpected passing, my husband proposed a fake divorce. He claimed he was fighting for an inheritance and didn’t want me to get caught up in it. To protect my safety, he said we’d remarry once he secured the inheritance. I agreed on the surface but laughed coldly inside. He thought I didn’t know, but he and his mistress had already planned everything on his backup phone. There was no inheritance – what he really wanted was the $2 million my parents had left me! At 1:30 AM, after sorting through my parents’ belongings, I returned to our apartment complex. Seeing the lights on in our unit, I felt a warmth in my heart. During this difficult time, even though I tried to stay strong on the outside, I longed for a moment to quietly lean on someone for support. “Yale, I thought you said you’d be away on a business trip for a week. Why are you back already?” I asked as I opened the door, spotting Yale sitting in the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, playing on his phone. He seemed to be looking at something amusing, his smile growing wider. Hearing my voice, he locked his phone and walked over, taking the suitcase from my hand. “The trip was originally planned for three days, but something came up at the company, so I came back early,” he explained. “You probably haven’t eaten yet. There’s a sandwich I brought back on the table. Eat up, and then I need to talk to you about something.” “I’m not hungry. What did you want to tell me?” I grabbed a glass of warm water and sat on the living room couch, waiting for him to put my things away in the bedroom. After setting down the suitcase, Yale sat next to me and pulled me into his arms. “Honey, I need to go back home to fight for my family inheritance.” Leaning against his chest, feeling the warmth he provided, I asked, “Do you need my help?” Yale straightened my posture and looked into my eyes intently. “No need, I can handle it myself. But to protect your safety and prevent other competitors from using you to threaten me, I need to pretend to divorce you for a while.” Hearing this, I was stunned. I shifted away from him slightly. Confused, I asked directly, “Pretend to divorce? What do you mean? Do we really need to get divorced?” “Honey, listen to me. The divorce would just be for show. We’d only get the divorce certificate, but we’d still live together,” Yale explained. “Abby, you have to trust me. I swear on our eight years together, as soon as I get the inheritance, we’ll remarry immediately. I promise.” Yale held my hands, his eyes full of sincerity. “Let’s forget about it. We don’t need that money anyway,” I said. Yale’s after-tax monthly income was $1,000, and I made $1,500. It wasn’t a lot, but we lived in an apartment my parents had bought for me before our marriage, and my car was also a gift from my dad. When they were alive, my parents often helped us out financially. Besides Yale’s monthly car payment of $450 and $200 he sent to his parents, we didn’t have many big expenses. “Plus, after my parents passed away, the inheritance I received is enough for us to live comfortably just from the interest in the bank. You don’t need to do this,” I added. Yale lowered his head and remained silent for about three or four minutes before speaking again: “Abby, you know that my parents married against my family’s wishes years ago, which led to them living in poverty all these years. They’ve always felt guilty that they couldn’t buy us anything when we got married. Now that there’s finally a chance to divide the family assets, they just want to help us out a bit.” “The neighbors keep saying that they finally had me, only for me to become a live-in son-in-law to a rich family. They feel like they can’t hold their heads up high.” “Abby, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault for not being capable enough, making you and my parents lose face.” I opened my mouth to speak but didn’t know what to say. Should I tell him his parents wouldn’t feel guilty about him being a live-in son-in-law? After all, they often asked me for money behind Yale’s back. Or should I say that I wouldn’t feel ashamed because of him? Even when others teased him, no matter how much I argued in his defense, it was still his pride that got hurt. “Honey, can you give me some time to think about it?” Considering his feelings, I lowered my head.
Yale and I were college classmates. I majored in nursing, while he studied accounting. We shouldn’t have had any connection, but a friend of mine in the kickboxing club was his classmate. That’s how we met. He pursued me for a whole year after that, and I was moved by his sincerity and agreed to be with him. I had told him that I wanted to return to my hometown after graduation. As an only child, I couldn’t move far away. He joked that I shouldn’t worry, he could move in with my family. When we graduated, he received an offer from a prestigious company, and I became a nurse at a hospital. In our fourth year of working, we naturally held our wedding ceremony. After knowing each other for nine years, perhaps I should trust him. Yale went on another business trip. After considering for a week, I decided to agree to his request for a “fake divorce.” Thinking that he would return from his trip tomorrow afternoon, which happened to be my day off, I rarely felt motivated to do a deep clean of our home. We had a housekeeper who regularly cleaned the house, but Yale and I cleaned the study ourselves because it contained company documents. While cleaning, I noticed Yale’s backup phone sitting on the desk next to a potted plant, in danger of falling if bumped. I knew this backup phone was the one he usually used for gaming. Afraid it might fall and break, I picked up the phone intending to put it in the drawer. Then I remembered the game he had recommended to me recently, so I set down the cleaning cloth and decided to take a break. As I was logging into the game, a SnapChat message popped up. I meant to swipe it away, but accidentally opened it instead. Looking at the dense, intimate chat history, I finally understood. He didn’t want a “fake divorce” – he wanted a real one. If I were the protagonist in a tragic novel, I might ask on Twitter: “My parents passed away unexpectedly just a month ago, and I discovered my husband is cheating. Do I not deserve love?” Unfortunately, I’m not. So after the initial anger and heartbreak, I quickly pulled myself together. I ordered a new phone of the same model as Yale’s backup phone, smashed it into two pieces, and placed it on the computer desk along with the fallen potted plant. I opened my phone’s camera, recorded a video of the scene, and sent it to Yale with the message: “Honey, I’m so sorry. While cleaning, I accidentally knocked over the potted plant and your phone fell to the ground. Was there any important data on your phone? I’ll take it for repair right away, but I don’t know if the data can be recovered. I’m really sorry, honey.” I cleaned up the remains of the potted plant and the new phone, then took the intact backup phone to see my best friend, Summer. Summer is my childhood friend who studied law and opened her own law firm after graduation. Since he wants a divorce, let’s make sure he leaves with nothing. As I was driving, Yale replied to my message. He told me to just throw away the broken phone, saying there was no important data on it. He asked me not to feel guilty and said he would bring me a gift when he returned from his business trip. I don’t know when the person sleeping next to me became so shameless, or perhaps he had always been shameless and just hid it well before.
After reading the chat history, Summer cursed loudly in her office. If she wasn’t worried about alerting Yale, she would have called him directly to curse him out. As for me, perhaps the shock was too great, and my body activated its self-protection mechanism, allowing me to deal with the situation calmly. Summer hugged me in anguish, hoping I would cry and not keep it all bottled up inside. But I really couldn’t cry. Seeing her cry so miserably, without her usual polished city woman look, I felt Yale truly deserved to die. Leaving him with nothing was too lenient; he should be beaten up. I hired a private investigator to follow Yale, hoping to find something that could ruin his reputation. I called Yale and told him that Summer was going through some issues, so I needed to stay with her for a couple of days. I agreed to the divorce and said we’d discuss the details when he got home. I moved into Summer’s place. Summer held back her anger, and I suppressed my disgust as we stayed up late reviewing all the chat histories and transfer records from Yale’s SnapChat account. Fortunately, our efforts paid off. In Yale’s conversations with the other woman, there were descriptions of him accepting bribes from business partners. I felt a surge of excitement. I knew Yale was finished! On the third day, when I returned home after work, Yale was already busy in the kitchen wearing an apron. Who would have thought that a man with such a down-to-earth, family-oriented image would start cheating just six months into our marriage with a recent college graduate from his company? “Abby, go wash your hands first. Dinner will be ready soon,” Yale called out from the kitchen without turning around when he heard the door open. “Okay.” I washed my hands and sat at the dining table, trying to compose myself. Before seeing him, I could still remain calm. But face-to-face, my anger surged, and I just wanted to tear off his mask. After dinner, Yale brought over a divorce agreement. “Abby, we need to make this look real, so I’ve drawn up a divorce agreement. But don’t worry, it’s just for show,” Yale explained nervously as he watched me flip through the contents. He had the audacity to split my parents’ inheritance with me?! “Honey, why did you include my parents’ inheritance in this? Isn’t that a mistake?” I glared at him, wanting to kill him on the spot! “Sweetheart, your parents passed away without leaving a will, so legally this is considered marital property. Most of our assets are from before our marriage, so if we don’t split this $2 million inheritance, people might get suspicious. Don’t worry, it’s just on paper. All of this is yours, and I’ll transfer it back to you as soon as we remarry,” Yale hurriedly came over to embrace me, expressing his sincerity. Hah, believing he’d return the money was as likely as believing a meat bun stolen by a vicious dog would come back intact.
“Honey, you’re not planning to turn this fake divorce into a real one and take the money, are you?” I pulled away from him and continued flipping through the agreement. Yale moved closer and patted my hand. “Honey, what do I need to do for you to trust me? How about I transfer my car to your name?” I rolled my eyes, thinking to myself that who knows if the car would be seized when his ill-gotten gains are confiscated. Pretending to go along with it, I said, “Honey, I believe you. After all, you swore on our eight years together. If you can’t keep that promise, you’d be ruined and deserve a miserable death, right?” I noticed his body stiffen for a moment, though he quickly recovered. “Honey, I can sign the agreement, but we’ve always had such a good relationship. People won’t believe we’re suddenly getting divorced, will they?” I nestled into Yale’s arms and spoke softly. “There’s no way around it, the timing is tight,” Yale said, stroking my hair. Disgusted, I sat up straight and pouted at him, “Honey, I have a good idea.” “How about this: we’ll have a fight later, and I’ll accuse you of having an affair. Then I’ll beat you up a bit. I’ve trained in kickboxing and have medical knowledge, so I’ll avoid vital areas.” “When the neighbors hear us fighting, they’ll definitely call the police. Since we’re married, and it’s not a severe case of domestic violence, the police will just give a warning. You can say you forgive me. If we do this two or three times, everyone will sympathize with you, and they’ll understand when you ask for a divorce.” How wonderful to be able to beat him up openly. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Yale hesitated. “Then let’s forget about the divorce. Otherwise, people will start rumors if I get divorced right after my parents passed away,” I turned away, ignoring him. “Don’t be angry, we’ll do it your way,” Yale quickly pulled me close to comfort me. “Okay, let’s go to the entrance. We’re about to start. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.” I led Yale to the foyer and began shouting. “Yale, do you have any conscience? My parents just passed away, and you want to divorce me!” “When my parents were alive, they even gave you money to help support your parents back home, and you dare to cheat on me so soon after we got married! You’ve lost your heart to a dog!” “Yale, people like you deserve to be ruined!” I shouted out all my true feelings and vented my anger through physical force. Yale yelped and cried out, and every time he tried to explain, I silenced him with my fists. The neighbors who watched the commotion kindly called the police and stood at the stairway trying to persuade me to talk things out calmly. I chased Yale from the entrance to the hallway and back into the apartment. When I stopped, his face was bruised and swollen, looking quite pitiful. “Honey, I’m sorry. There were too many people watching, so I couldn’t go easy on you. Otherwise, they might have thought we were just acting. Are you okay?” I apologized while tending to Yale’s wounds. Yale was groaning in pain, even flinching as I applied medicine. “Honey, I’m so sorry. Why don’t you slap me twice? It breaks my heart to see you like this.” My tears fell on cue – the Academy owes me an Oscar. Yale was about to scold me, but seeing me cry so heartbrokenly, he quickly came over to comfort me. “Abby, it’s okay. It doesn’t hurt that much. You did this for me, don’t cry.” Seeing Yale grimacing in pain while trying to comfort me, I felt a pang in my heart. Yale, this is just the interest on your deception.
The police arrived quickly, but since Yale and I had already reconciled, they just gave us a warning and left after we explained the situation. “Honey, let’s not get divorced. How could I bring myself to hit you again next time…” I cried, my eyes red and swollen. “Huh? There’s going to be a next time?” Yale’s eyes widened. “At least twice, right? Otherwise, how will people believe us after just once? Honey, let’s forget about it. Let’s just live our life together. You know I don’t mind that you don’t earn much,” I secretly provoked Yale, afraid he might not want to be hit again. “Fine, I’ve already been hit once, so one more time is okay. But that’s really the last time, alright?” he said. It seems the temptation of the inheritance and the other woman was quite strong if he was willing to be beaten again. After this injury, Yale stayed home for a week to recover. The injuries weren’t severe, but his bruised face made him too embarrassed to go out. I also took good care of him, attending to his needs. You have to fatten the pig before slaughtering it, right? Meanwhile, the private investigator uncovered some news: Yale’s family had no plans to divide any inheritance. Instead, his younger brother owed a large sum to loan sharks!
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