Chapter 1 The year Caleb’s car crash left him paralyzed and shattered his career, I sold my grandfather’s house and worked as a janitor for eight grueling years. I scraped together the astronomical medical bills to pay for his surgeries, standing by him until he reclaimed his title as the World Boxing Champion. At his victory gala, he held the championship belt, tears in his eyes as he made a public confession. “I want to thank the love of my life, who never gave up on me. May we spend the rest of our lives together.” My eyes welled with tears. I thought my years of suffering had finally paid off. But as I stood up, the spotlight bypassed me entirely. It landed on his team doctor, Chloe. I froze, the deafening thud of my own heartbeat drowning out everything else in the room. The giant screens began playing the “Champion’s Loving Wife: Rehabilitation Diary.” It was a slideshow of my work. My late-night muscle response logs, my gait training protocols, my handwritten breakdowns of boxing combinations. But the most blinding thing of all was the final slide. It prominently displayed a marriage certificate for Caleb and Chloe, dated five years ago. Caleb gripped my trembling shoulders tight. His eyes held a mix of pleading and a sharp warning. “Sarah, the public needs a PR-friendly love story. The medical miracle and the boxing legend. I can’t present a janitor to the world as my partner.” “No one will believe you if you make a scene right now. Why fight over a moment of pride? I’ll buy your grandfather’s house back for you.” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, staring in sheer disbelief at the man in front of me. Eight years of pouring my heart, soul, and blood into him had become nothing more than leverage to keep me quiet. Walking out of the ballroom, my hands shook as I looked at the overseas job offer on my phone. Without hesitation, I tapped Confirm. [Ms. Davis, your flight and visa will be ready in three days. Please stay in touch. Welcome to the team!] … I tracked down my supervisor at the cleaning company and told her I had a family emergency. I asked to settle my pay for the month early. She handed me a few bills, her eyes full of pity. At 2:00 AM, Caleb walked into the apartment reeking of alcohol. Seeing me sitting on the edge of the bed, his brow furrowed. “It’s late. Why aren’t you asleep?” He quickly walked over. When he saw my raw, blistered heels, a flash of guilt and heartache crossed his eyes. Just like when he was paralyzed, he expertly grabbed a cotton swab and lifted my foot to treat the wounds. “How did you let it get this bad without treating it?” His voice was soft, laced with the tenderness I used to know so well. When the swab touched the raw skin, I flinched. He immediately lightened his touch, leaning down to gently blow on the wound. “Chloe standing up there… it was just for the sponsors and the cameras,” he said softly as he applied a bandage. “The public isn’t going to accept a champion whose partner is a janitor. It would ruin my upcoming endorsement deals.” He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was a universal truth everyone should just accept. I looked down at him, feeling an icy chill seep into my bones. Eight years of day and night care. Selling my grandfather’s house to pay for his surgeries. Countless sleepless nights designing his rehab routines. All of that absolute devotion was only fit to exist in the shadows of his private life. He detached the commemorative medallion from his championship belt and pressed it into my palm. “You deserve at least half the credit for this medal, Sarah. I know that.” I looked down at the gleaming gold surface. “Caleb, since you’re already married… let’s just end this.” His hand paused. He avoided my gaze, standing up to close the first-aid kit. “Sarah, where else would you go? You don’t have any family left. You sold your house for my surgery.” “Don’t overthink this. Chloe and I aren’t what you think.” “Sarah, in my heart, you are my only true wife.” He turned around and pulled his suit for tomorrow out of the closet. “I’m flying overseas the day after tomorrow for an exhibition match. Pack my gloves and backup meds.” “Chloe is coming with me as the team doctor. Put the medical files she needs in my suitcase too.” He listed his demands, his tone completely casual. Seeing me sitting there motionless, his hand froze halfway through untying his tie. He fell silent for a moment, then walked over and pulled me into his arms. “Sarah, I haven’t forgotten my promise to you.” He rested his chin on the top of my head. “You want a home. You want to buy back your grandfather’s house. I remember.” Smelling the unfamiliar, expensive perfume on him, I stood rigidly in his embrace. “I already bought the house back.” He let go of me and pulled an old, brass key from his suit pocket. “The paperwork is still being processed. I was going to give it to you tomorrow as a birthday surprise.” “Take tomorrow off. I’m taking you home.” Home. Such a beautiful word. My hand clamped tightly around the key. “Okay,” I rasped. Caleb smiled in satisfaction and turned to walk into the bathroom. Early the next morning, I stood in front of the familiar red wooden door, my eyes stinging with tears. But just as I pulled out the key, the door was pulled open from the inside. Chloe was standing in the entryway, wearing silk loungewear and slippers. Seeing me, she didn’t look surprised at all. Instead, she flashed a flawless smile. “Oh, Sarah! You’re here.” She waved a catalog at me. “Help me decide. Should we do the living room in champagne, or a dusty blue?” I froze, my eyes locked onto her loungewear—an outfit that screamed she was the lady of the house. I turned to look at Caleb. He avoided my eyes. “Champagne. It’ll make the room brighter.” In the corner of the courtyard wall, there was a height chart my grandfather had carved for me, notch by notch. “This old wall is falling apart. It smells like mildew,” Chloe complained, covering her nose. “I hired a crew. They’re repainting the whole thing tomorrow.” She pointed to the old wicker chair my grandfather left behind in the corner. “And that junk chair. Throw it out with the trash tomorrow.” I stared at the wicker chair, my fingernails digging into my palms. When Caleb was paralyzed, he used to smash everything in the house in a fit of rage. I was the one who forced him into that chair, telling him over and over again that his legs would heal. Now that he could stand, the chair was just garbage. “Caleb.” I turned around, my voice hoarse. “Why is she here?” Caleb walked over, reaching out to take my hand. I stepped sideways, avoiding his touch. He sighed heavily, lowering his voice. “Sarah, I really did buy the house back.” “But the deed is temporarily under Chloe’s name.” My head snapped up. I stared at him in utter disbelief. “She and I are legally married, after all,” he said, his tone meant to be soothing. “Putting the house under her name as a marital asset saves us a massive amount of unnecessary taxes.” “Once my overseas tour is over next month, I’ll have Chloe transfer the deed to you.” My voice shook uncontrollably. “This is the only thing in the world I wanted back. You’re a multi-millionaire now. Are you really hurting for that tax money?” Caleb frowned, reaching out to wipe my tears, trying to coax me. “Sarah, I’m under a lot of pressure too. Besides, it doesn’t really matter whose name is on the paper.” “You can move in whenever you want. Chloe stays downtown most of the time. She won’t bother you.” Leaning against the doorframe, Chloe let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, Sarah. But that south-facing bedroom on the second floor? I’m turning that into Caleb’s trophy room.” “I’m putting in custom display cases for his belts and gloves.” I stood in the courtyard that used to be mine, watching them plan their future. I felt like a stranger who had merely been granted permission to tour the property. On the drive back, Caleb buckled my seatbelt and intentionally took a detour to buy my favorite roasted chestnuts. He peeled one and held it to my lips. “Don’t be mad. Once I get back from the fight, everything will go back to normal.” “I’m cooking tonight. Your favorite, spicy fish.” While Caleb was in the kitchen, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a message from a real estate agent. [Mr. Sterling, all the closing documents for your wife’s property are finalized.] Compelled by some dark intuition, I unlocked the screen. His passcode was my birthday. I opened the closing confirmation document. The date printed clearly on it was from three months ago. March 16th. Chloe’s birthday. He brought the food to the table. His phone rang again. It was Chloe. He listened for a moment, looking torn. He grabbed his jacket and stood up. “Chloe sprained her wrist. I need to go check on her. We can’t delay tonight’s rehab demonstration and interview.” “Sarah, you go ahead and eat. Drop off the custom gloves and mouthguard at the studio backstage later.” I sat alone at the table. I have never liked fish. The smell of the fish hit my nose, and I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I ran to the bathroom and threw up until my stomach was empty. At the television studio, Caleb was being interviewed. The reporter held the microphone, her voice dripping with admiration. “Champ, you and Chloe really are boxing’s ultimate power couple.” Chloe, impeccably dressed, clung to Caleb’s arm. “We heard that Chloe sacrificed a lot behind the scenes to help you reclaim your title?” Chloe covered her mouth with a delicate laugh. “The years Caleb was paralyzed were incredibly hard. But as long as a husband and wife face things together, there’s no obstacle you can’t overcome.” She placed heavy emphasis on the words “husband and wife.” My grip on the equipment case tightened until the plastic handles dug painfully into my palms. Just then, sharp-eyed media personnel in the front row suddenly pointed toward the backstage area. “Wait a minute. Isn’t that woman the same one who stood up at the victory gala?” Every single camera in the room instantly swiveled and locked onto me. Sensing the scent of a massive scandal, the reporter quickly shoved the microphone toward Caleb. “Champ, what exactly is your relationship with this woman?” “There are rumors that she was the one who stayed by your side during your darkest days, and even designed your rehab routine. Is that true?” The entire studio went dead silent. Everyone’s eyes darted back and forth between me and Caleb. I looked at Caleb on the stage. The few seconds of silence felt like an agonizing eternity. Deep down, I still harbored one pathetic, laughable shred of hope. I hoped that even if he wouldn’t acknowledge me as his partner, he would at least admit I was the one who suffered through the hardest years with him. Caleb looked at me. His eyes flickered. Then, he slowly raised the microphone to his mouth. “Sarah Davis is the housekeeper who took care of my daily needs over the past few years.” His voice echoed clearly through the speakers, reaching every corner of the room. “She works very hard and is very responsible.” He turned to look at Chloe, his eyes softening with deep affection. “But Chloe is my legal wife. She is the most important, irreplaceable person who helped me return to the ring.” The audience erupted into thunderous applause and cheers. I stood there, clutching the gear, my fingers turning to ice. Even breathing sent a dull, throbbing pain through my chest. Housekeeper. The eight years I spent selling my home, draining my bank account, and staying up all night managing his rehab… in his eyes, it was nothing more than dutiful domestic service. As soon as the interview ended, the studio descended into chaos. Someone had leaked photos of me cleaning hotel rooms online. Frenzied boxing fans immediately cornered me at the exit. “So she really is just a janitor trying to sleep her way to the top!” “Shameless bitch! He has a legal wife, who the hell do you think you are?!” “Keeping trash like her around is a stain on the champ’s reputation!” Vicious curses rained down on me from all sides. Someone violently shoved my shoulder. The equipment case slipped from my grasp, crashing to the floor. The gloves and mouthguard scattered everywhere. I crouched down to pick them up, but someone shoved me hard from behind. I lost my balance and tumbled down the concrete steps. Blood seeped from my elbow, and a blinding pain shot through my ankle. I gasped, the pain paralyzing me for several moments. The crowd erupted into mocking laughter. Caleb noticed the commotion. He started to rush toward me, but Chloe grabbed his arm. “Caleb, the press is waiting for photos. The sponsors are watching.” The panic in Caleb’s eyes slowly faded. He turned away, throwing a single sentence over his shoulder: “Security. Don’t let random nobodies ruin the event.” When he was paralyzed, if I was ten minutes late coming back from the grocery store, he would drag his useless legs to the door, sweating profusely in a panic, terrified I had abandoned him. Now, his legs worked perfectly. Yet, watching me lying bleeding at the bottom of the stairs, he still chose to turn his back and walk away. “Ma’am, please leave!” Dragging my swollen, throbbing ankle, I limped into the tournament’s partner hospital and handed over my ID at the front desk. The nurse typed a few keys on her computer, and her face instantly hardened. She slid my ID back to me, her tone completely flat. “I apologize, Ms. Davis, but this hospital cannot treat you.” I froze. Blood from my elbow had already soaked through half my sleeve. The nurse stared at me blankly and pressed the security buzzer on her desk. Two security guards marched over, grabbed me by both arms, and forcefully dragged me out of the emergency room lobby. I sat on the edge of a planter box outside, my hands shaking as I pulled out my phone and dialed Caleb’s number. It rang for a long time before someone picked up. “Hello?” It wasn’t Caleb. It was Chloe’s voice. She had clearly put it on speakerphone; I could hear reporters talking in the background. “Sarah, you know perfectly well I am Caleb’s wife. Why do you keep harassing him?” She spoke loudly, deliberately making sure everyone around her could hear. I gripped my phone, my knuckles turning white. “I am the one who suffered through the last eight years with him.” I gritted my teeth, forcing out the very last question buried in my heart. “I sold my family home. I cleaned toilets for eight years. Am I not even allowed to call him when I’m hurt?” The line went quiet for a moment. Then, I heard Caleb’s exhausted voice. “Just hang up. Don’t argue with her anymore.” He didn’t even ask how badly I was hurt. “You don’t need to lower yourself to her level. Let this be a lesson to her. Maybe she’ll learn her place.” The call was abruptly disconnected. The screen went dark. I stared at the black reflection, suddenly feeling completely ridiculous. I dragged my injured leg, limping all the way back to my rented apartment. As soon as the elevator doors opened, I saw my clothes and old books strewn all over the hallway floor. My landlord was standing in the doorway, a new lock cylinder in his hand. He avoided eye contact, gesturing vaguely to the pile of my belongings. “My hands are tied, Ms. Davis. I’m refunding your deposit. Please pack up and leave.” In the trash can nearby, my handwritten muscle logs and the original drafts of Caleb’s rehab plans had been shredded to pieces. The elevator chimed, and Caleb rushed out, panting heavily. He looked at the mess in the hallway, then at my bleeding arm, his brow furrowing deeply. He held out a bank card to me. “Sarah, can you stop making a scene?” His voice was laced with exhaustion and intense irritation. “After the fight, I’ll find you a new place to stay. The money on this card is your compensation.” I didn’t take the card. I just looked up, staring directly into his eyes. “You have a legal wife, yet you want to keep me around as a side piece.” “Caleb, what exactly do you think I am?” The color drained from Caleb’s face. His eyes darted away evasively. “I told you, I’ll explain everything after I get back from the fight. Can you just be reasonable for once?” He checked his watch. “I’m going to miss my flight. I have to go. Book a hotel room for yourself.” He turned around, stepped into the elevator, and never looked back. That night, alone in a cheap motel room, I received a summons from the police. Someone had reported me, submitting a forged audio recording to the authorities, accusing me of extortion. The bank card was submitted as evidence. I was detained. … Seven days later, Caleb returned triumphant from his overseas matches. He tried calling Sarah, but it went straight to voicemail. She didn’t reply to his texts. He rushed to her grandfather’s house, only to find the brass key she had held so tightly sitting in the mailbox. It wasn’t until someone told him Sarah had been arrested that he sprinted to the police station. The officer handed the bank card back to him. “Ms. Davis posted bail and left.”
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