During a televised interview, my husband announced that he had already allocated all of his personal assets. The host jokingly remarked that he must have left a massive fortune for his wife and son. He smiled gently and softly denied it: “I’ve only left them a trust fund with just enough money to live comfortably.” “The rest of my estate, my shares, everything—I’ve given it all to my adopted daughter.” “It was a promise I made to her mother. I swore at her grave that I would make sure her daughter lived a carefree life forever.” In the kitchen, my hands froze as I was prepping dinner for the kids. I sharply looked up at the TV screen. The man on the screen was rambling affectionately about his first love who had passed away too soon. Until the host spoke again. “Does your wife know about this?” He paused for a second, but his smile didn’t waver. “She won’t object.” “She’s been very good to my adopted daughter all these years. Honestly, she’s better than any nanny we could hire.” I took off my apron, walked out of the kitchen, and picked up my son, who was gathering toys for his adopted sister, carrying him back to his room. Six years. I had endured enough. Since my son and I were getting absolutely nothing, someone else could play the role of the devoted nanny. Chapter 1 The interview was split into two segments; the second part was filmed at our house. When Arthur Vance brought the reporter and the camera crew inside, I had just put my son to sleep. He didn’t even acknowledge me. After taking off his coat to shake off the winter chill, he immediately picked up his adopted daughter, Chloe, who was watching cartoons. He affectionately pinched her chubby cheeks. “Did Mommy give you a hard time today?” It was his daily, routine question. In the past, I always assumed he was just teasing. But today, the words carried a different, darker undertone. He was genuinely afraid that when he wasn’t around, I would mistreat the daughter of his beloved “one who got away,” Vivian. “Mr. Vance, you treat your adopted daughter so well,” the host gushed. “If Vivian is watching from heaven, she’d be thrilled to see her only daughter being loved as your own flesh and blood.” “If Vivian hadn’t passed away in that tragic accident… you two would be legendary in the business world.” Arthur’s expression softened with nostalgia, the corners of his lips curving upward. I stood to the side and coughed twice. The atmosphere froze for a few seconds. The host finally realized her comments were incredibly inappropriate with the actual wife standing right there. “Mrs. Vance…” “Sarah, did you wash the outfit Chloe needs for school tomorrow?” He cut the host off, instinctively barking an order at me. “I don’t trust the maid to wash it right. You have to hand-wash it yourself.” Chloe, entirely used to this routine, waddled over on her short little legs and shoved the dirty clothes she had just taken off straight into my arms. Arthur rushed me. “What are you waiting for? Go.” I could feel the gazes of the camera crew assessing me—disdain, pity, contempt. In that split second, I felt an intense kinship with a stray dog on the street. In Arthur’s eyes, I had always just been a maid who was easier to boss around than a regular employee. I lowered my head in humiliation, an overwhelming wave of sorrow and bitterness rising in my throat. I took a deep breath. I let my fingers relax. The bundle of dirty children’s clothes dropped to the hardwood floor. “Arthur, I’m not washing them.” “I am your wife, not your nanny.” His brow slowly furrowed. He shot me a cold, warning glance. “Sarah, what is the meaning of this?” “I saw your interview today.” My fingernails dug into my palms. I gathered every ounce of courage to meet his gaze. “You gave all of our marital assets to someone else’s child.” “On what grounds?” Arthur’s eyes turned razor-sharp, and his voice dropped to freezing temperatures. “What do you mean, ‘someone else’s child’?” He covered Chloe’s ears as he spoke. “Chloe is my child.” “Sarah, when I brought her home five years ago, I gave you a choice. You chose to stay and take care of her!” Looking at the man in front of me, my heart turned to ice. Five years ago, I was weeks away from my due date. He vanished for seven days and seven nights. Frantic and unable to find him, the stress sent me into premature labor. My son was born two weeks early. Arthur finally showed up long after I had given birth. I had just breathed a sigh of relief, wanting to show him our newborn son. But before I could, he thrust a swaddled infant into my face. “Vivian died in childbirth. She entrusted her baby to me.” Chapter 2 “From now on, this child is our adopted daughter.” The color had drained entirely from my face. As I struggled to prop myself up in the hospital bed, Arthur coldly laid down his terms. “If you can’t accept this, we can divorce.” “I’ll pay basic child support every month for your kid, but you won’t get a single cent more.” That was the choice he gave me back then. Swallow my disgust and raise his true love’s child. Or walk away empty-handed with my premature son. I was furious. I had been married to him for years, nearly died giving birth to his son, and on what grounds were my son and I supposed to leave with nothing? So, I swallowed my pride. I stayed. But five years had passed, and he had never shown an ounce of pity or love for me or our son. His capacity for deep, profound love had seemingly died with Vivian. The only warmth he had left was reserved for her daughter. I suddenly realized that all my years of perseverance were nothing but a pathetic, slapstick comedy for his entertainment. A decade of love and hate vanished like smoke in the face of his endless, distrustful accusations. I looked at him calmly. “I want to make a new choice now.” “This time, I choose to take my son and leave.” Arthur looked at me, a scoff of pure disdain escaping his lips. “Leave?” “Sarah, if you leave me, how exactly do you plan to feed yourself and your kid?” “Go back to your room. Stop embarrassing me in front of all these people.” With that, he signaled the maids with his eyes. A couple of them rushed forward, grabbed me by the arms without a word, and shoved me down the hall toward the master bedroom. They locked the door from the outside. The soundproofing in the house wasn’t great. I could still hear their gossip. “I don’t know what Mrs. Vance is throwing a fit about. She has such a great life, why did she have to embarrass Mr. Vance in front of the reporters?” “She’s just raising a kid for a dead woman, so what? She’s a leech who relies entirely on Mr. Vance to survive. She should just shut up and endure it.” A leech? When Arthur and I first got together, he was a broke nobody with absolutely nothing to his name. I drained my entire life savings to fund his startup. I stayed up all night drinking with clients to secure the company’s very first major contract. And it was me who willingly stepped back into the shadows to hold down the fort when he became too busy to manage his own life. But now, in the eyes of everyone else, I was nothing but a parasite feeding off his success. I slid down the door panel and sat on the floor. The noise outside eventually died down. The door clicked open. Arthur walked in, his foot carelessly kicking my side as he stepped into the room. It didn’t hurt physically, but it felt like the final blow to my dignity. Tears welled up in my eyes. Just as I was about to let myself break down and cry, a piece of clothing was thrown over my head. “Stop crying.” “Sarah, you’re good at sewing. Fix the tear on this shirt for me.” I pulled the shirt off my head. It was a white women’s blouse. The cuff was slightly frayed. The tears instantly stopped in my eyes. I couldn’t cry anymore. A massive wave of humiliation hit me, making me want to laugh out of pure anger. I knew this shirt. In this mansion, there were two walk-in closets. One held the clothes for me and the two kids. The other held the clothes for Arthur and Vivian. Vivian was a dead woman, yet Arthur insisted on letting someone who no longer existed in this world occupy a massive space in his daily life. I took a deep breath and threw the shirt hard onto the floor. “Arthur, I am not joking with you.” “I’ve had enough of this life. We are getting a divorce.” I spoke with absolute certainty. But Arthur acted like he hadn’t heard a single word. He started unbuttoning his shirt and spread his arms. “Come help me change.” “Hurry up, I promised Chloe I’d read her a bedtime story.” I walked up to him but didn’t lift a finger. I just repeated, my voice very soft but firm. “I am taking my son and leaving.” This time, he finally looked me in the eye. The unconcealed contempt in his gaze made my entire body ache. “Spit it out. What designer bag do you want to buy this time?” “Sarah, I’ve told you a million times, if you want something, just ask me directly. Stop playing these pathetic, roundabout games.” Saying that, he pulled a black credit card out of his wallet and shoved it into the collar of my shirt. “This should hold you over for a while.” Chapter 3 After that, he changed his own shirt, shoved past me, and went straight to Chloe’s bedroom. The credit card slipped and fell to the floor with a clatter. I stared at it for a long time before letting out a self-deprecating laugh. So in his eyes, I truly was no different than a nanny he could just pay off. I wiped away the tears that threatened to fall and turned toward my son’s room. He was awake, staring blankly at the ceiling. Hearing the door open, he turned his head, his little mouth pouting in distress. “Mommy, did you and Daddy fight again?” I shook my head. “Not exactly. But Mommy wants to separate from Daddy.” “Do you want to come with Mommy?” My son’s eyes lit up. “Really?” “Mommy, just like you, I’m not happy here at all.” “Every time Chloe is upset, Daddy yells at me with a scary face. If Chloe and I want the exact same toy, Daddy only buys it for Chloe. The toys I play with and the books I read are always just Chloe’s old hand-me-downs.” He counted on his little fingers, his voice lowering with excitement. “If we leave here, will my things finally belong just to me?” A fierce, burning ache stung my eyes. My son should have been the center of the universe, but he had been forced to live in the shadow of Arthur’s extreme favoritism. He was miserable. The absolute last reason I had to maintain this marriage was gone. This divorce was happening, whether Arthur liked it or not. After coordinating the divorce agreement terms with my lawyer, I fell asleep in my son’s room. I had barely closed my eyes when the door was violently shoved open. Arthur, pale as a ghost, aggressively yanked me out of bed. “Chloe is running a dangerously high fever! What do we do?!” This was one of his rare moments of sheer panic. I instinctively checked to make sure my son was still asleep, then quietly walked out into the hall. Once the door was shut tight, I looked at Arthur. “Give her a cold compress, call the nanny, and take her to the ER.” “Arthur, what good does dragging me out do? I’m not a doctor.” Impatience flared in his eyes. But for Chloe’s sake, he forced himself to hold back. “Sarah, you raised Chloe with your own two hands. No one knows her medical history better than you.” “Her fever is really bad right now.” “Can you please not be so cold-blooded?” Cold-blooded. The word echoed in my mind. I let out a cold, bitter laugh. If I were truly cold-blooded, his precious adopted daughter would have died three years ago. Perhaps she inherited it from her biological mother, but Chloe was incredibly prone to severe allergies. When she was three, being a greedy toddler, she snuck some lemon candies while the adults weren’t looking. Hives covered her skin almost instantly. Within minutes, her pale, chubby face turned blue. I happened to check the living room nanny-cam from the kitchen and almost went insane with terror when I saw Chloe collapsed on the floor, gasping for air. I threw her in the car, ran over a dozen red lights, and crashed into a highway guardrail on the way to the hospital. I dragged my bleeding body out of the wreck, gave her the EpiPen, and called 911 before I passed out from the pain. The ambulance took us both. I had a severe concussion and three broken ribs. I was bedridden in the hospital for a month. And during that entire month, Arthur didn’t visit me a single time. Later, when I broke down and confronted him, Arthur just gave me a dismissive side-eye. “You didn’t die, did you?” “You’re a grown adult and you still don’t know how to drive properly. Whose fault is it that you crashed?” “Chloe had it way worse. She hasn’t been able to eat properly for days.” “By the way, hurry up and get discharged. Chloe said she misses your cooking.” It was always like this. When he needed me… I could be a doctor. I could be a private chef. I could be his live-in maid. The only thing I couldn’t be was his respected, cherished wife. I didn’t say a word. I just walked into Chloe’s room. Her face was flushed bright red. I took off her heavy pajamas, rubbed rubbing alcohol on her palms and the back of her neck to cool her down. Then I found the infant fever reducer and fed it to her. The fever broke quickly. The moment she opened her eyes, Arthur shoved me out of the way and scooped her into his arms. “Sweetheart, you scared Daddy to death.” “Do you still feel sick?” Chloe’s eyes were still a bit hazy, but she instinctively wrapped her arms around Arthur’s neck. Chapter 4 In a sweet, childish voice, she said, “Thank you for taking care of me, Daddy. You worked so hard.” “It wasn’t hard work,” Arthur cooed. “As long as our little princess is healthy, nothing Daddy does is hard work.” I stood off to the side, laughing until tears rolled down my face. Hearing my laughter, the father and daughter turned to look at me. I stared straight at Chloe, enunciating every word clearly. “Chloe, I was the one who just took care of you. What hard work did he do?” “For the past five years, I raised you and loved you like my own flesh and blood. What hard work did he do?” “Is it hard work spending all his time mourning the biological mother who birthed you and conveniently dropped dead?” Arthur’s expression cracked, inch by inch. The fury on his face looked like it was ready to burn the entire world to the ground. “Sarah, are you out of your damn mind?!” He covered Chloe’s ears, glaring at me with murderous rage. I calmed myself down and gave a slight smirk. “I just finally thought things through.” “Arthur, the divorce papers will be sent to your office tomorrow.” “Sign them quickly. Once we’re divorced, you can bring Vivian’s urn into the master bedroom and legally marry her ghost.” Stepping out of that nauseating room, my heart suddenly felt incredibly light. Truthfully, I had been completely fed up for years. I spent the rest of the night packing my things. Arthur was genuinely furious. After coaxing Chloe back to sleep, he marched straight back to his master suite. He instinctively gave me the silent treatment, exactly as he had done throughout our entire marriage. But I was already used to his indifference. After packing my and my son’s belongings, I went to his home office. When we first founded the company, I held a significant amount of founder’s shares. Even though Arthur had intentionally diluted them over the years, the shares I still held were more than enough to overturn the balance of power at the executive board level. While retrieving the corporate documents that rightfully belonged to me, I noticed a desk drawer stuffed to the brim with letters. I opened one at random. It was a letter he had written to Vivian. In every single letter, he mentioned me and my son. Reading the contents, I finally understood the true, sick reason behind his blatant favoritism. “I’m raising our daughter perfectly. Don’t worry, I won’t let Sarah and her brat bully our little girl.” “Chloe knows how to say ‘Mommy’ now. Every night, I hold your photo and tell her that YOU are her true mother.” “Sarah is nothing but a live-in nanny here to take care of her.” Every sentence, every word, twisted like a jagged knife in my chest. The confirmation that Chloe was his biological daughter made my stomach violently churn. I doubled over and dry-heaved from sheer disgust. I endured the hardest days with him. I built his empire with him. I sacrificed everything. Ten years of marriage, all built on a mountain of lies. Fighting back my overwhelming nausea, I took photos of every single letter that could be used as evidence. Then, I tore them to shreds, one by one. As confetti-like scraps of paper drifted to the floor, Arthur pushed the office door open. His expression shifted, ultimately settling into a deep, furrowed scowl of annoyance and disgust. “Sarah, where are your manners?” “Who gave you permission to touch my things?” I looked at him with dead, calm eyes. His frown deepened. “What are you looking at? Hurry up and go check on Chloe.” In my hand, I was still holding the final letter he had written just yesterday. In it, he had explicitly detailed his plans to be buried in the same plot as Vivian when he died. Smiling, I slowly and deliberately ripped that final letter into tiny pieces right in front of his face. “Arthur Vance, I wish you the best for the rest of your life.” “I hope you and that dead woman live happily ever after. A perfect family of three for the rest of eternity.” “I am gracefully bowing out to honor your epic romance. I hope you join her in the afterlife soon so you can finally be together.”
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