I was in anaphylactic shock from a severe peanut allergy. But my wife snatched my EpiPen, claiming our neighbor’s dog had a mosquito bite and needed to reduce swelling. “Hannah, the EpiPen…” I gasped, my voice a strangled plea for help, every fiber of my being fighting for air. Hannah grabbed it, yelling towards the door. “Mason! Snowball’s paw is swollen from a bite. This import works fast. Here, take it!” She handed it to our neighbor, Mason, like offering a prize. Mason, cradling his poodle, glanced at me sprawled on the floor, a smirk on his lips. “Awkward. Mr. Owen doesn’t look too well, does he?” “Ignore him, he’s faking.” Hannah stepped over me with utter disgust. “He just doesn’t want me to give you the medicine. He’s throwing a fit. Pathetic.” My vision blurred. I watched Mason inject the medicine-the one meant to save my life-into his dog. My life, to her, was worth less than a neighbor’s dog. She had no idea her entire lavish lifestyle was funded by me. Even the designer watch she’d just given away was mine. Now that I saw the truth clearly, this so-called “sugar baby” was done pretending.
Daniel POV The cleaning lady next door secretly called 911 and saved me. I spent three days in the ICU. Hannah never called. On my discharge day, Hannah threw a “gratitude party” to celebrate my near-death experience. But the guest of honor was Mason. I walked into the ballroom, my face still swollen. Everyone was raising their glasses, celebrating. No one spared a glance for the man who had just returned from hell. I walked to the main table, looking at Mason’s perfectly maintained face, and with a flick of my wrist, I poured the dark red wine onto the carpet, where it spread into an ugly stain. “I want a divorce,” I said calmly, setting down the empty glass. The ballroom went silent for a second, then erupted in laughter. A few neighbors in custom suits pointed and whispered. “Did the anaphylaxis mess with his brain?” “No sense of occasion,” another murmured. “Absolutely none.” Hannah’s face flooded with crimson rage. She snatched an ornate cupcake from the table and hurled it at my feet. “Daniel, what is wrong with you?!” Hannah looked absolutely furious. “It was one stupid shot! Are you really that petty? Do you have any idea who’s here tonight? Mason is the HOA President! Are you trying to make me a laughingstock?” I ignored the mess on the floor, my gaze fixed on Mason’s left hand. He was wearing a Patek Philippe. But that was my watch! I bought it at Sotheby’s three years ago. Hannah told me it was sent for servicing. Yet here it was, on that damn neighbor’s wrist.
Daniel POV Hannah followed my gaze, her face changing. She instinctively turned sideways, shielding Mason’s wrist. “How much longer are you going to humiliate me like this?” she hissed, her voice low and filled with disappointment. “That watch was covering this year’s HOA premium! For the VIP parking spot! Do you have any idea how many dinners I had to sit through with the board president just to get our family into the inner circle here? What do you know about building real connections?” She turned, putting on a wronged expression, and started explaining to the surrounding neighbors: “What’s wrong with me lending Mason, the President, my watch for a few days? He’s helping us appraise it! Besides, if it weren’t for him, would we have gotten an 80% discount on our property fees? Would we have priority in choosing a parking spot?” “Do you even understand networking? You fool!” She made it sound so reasonable. Embezzling her husband’s millions to lavish on her lover, all packaged as a strategic investment in networking for the family’s social climbing. She was enduring humiliation for this family, and I, apparently, was ungrateful. The surrounding neighbors chimed in, accusing me of being ignorant and unworthy of Hannah’s painstaking efforts. Mason chuckled at an opportune moment, flicking some imaginary ash from a cigar. “Hannah, it’s fine. If Mr. Owen is so possessive, I’ll simply return the watch. To an artist like me, such things are merely decorative.” He made a show of taking it off, but his movements were slow, his eyes full of provocation, as if to say: I wore it. What will you do? I found it utterly laughable. Before, to protect Hannah’s ego, I played the role of the mediocre husband in this house, letting her use my money to keep up appearances. She thought I was a moocher who couldn’t survive without her. I pulled the divorce papers from my briefcase and handed them to her. “Sign it. The house is already listed. The agent will bring potential buyers tomorrow.” Hannah froze. The crowd of onlookers froze too. “Selling the house?” someone whispered. “It seems the Owens are really broke if they’re liquidating their home.” “Daniel, have you lost your mind?” Hannah hadn’t even had a chance to react when the ballroom doors burst open. My parents stormed in, clearly Hannah’s backup. Eleanor, my mother, snatched the papers from the floor without reading a word and flung them against my chest. “Daniel! Have you forgotten everything this family stands for?” She pointed a trembling finger at my nose. “Do you know how much Hannah has had to swallow just to make you look good in front of these people? And you repay her by humiliating her the moment you’re back on your feet? Selling the house? Have you thought for one second about what her parents will say about us?” I remembered her carrying me for miles to the hospital when I had a fever as a child. Back then, she loved me. Now, she stood by the woman who nearly killed me. Hannah had completely brainwashed my parents. She was the model wife, sacrificing herself for the family, and I was just an oblivious simpleton, ignorant of social graces. A sudden dog bark interrupted my thoughts. Snowball, Mason’s poodle, barked wildly at me. Kyle, Mason’s assistant, immediately cried out. “Oh, Mr. Owen, please don’t scare Snowball! She’s descended from champion dogs, very timid!” My mother instinctively reached out to comfort the dog. “Oh, Snowball, don’t be scared, Grandma’s here. Don’t let this unfilial son frighten you.” In that moment, my heart turned cold. Even a dog was more important than me. Kyle, seeing the situation, spoke with a sarcastic tone. “Mr. Owen, you need to look at the big picture.” Kyle held up his wine glass. “President Mason is an artist, and his son is a future genius. If a genius’s skin even gets a little red, it’s a loss to the art world. Compared to that, what’s a little allergic reaction of yours? Wouldn’t everyone agree?” A chorus of agreement rose around us. “Exactly, Hannah is so understanding.” “Disrupting community unity over such a small matter is just selfish.” Seeing the public opinion turn overwhelmingly against me, Hannah seized the opportunity. She reached out, trying to grab the briefcase from my hand. Her movements were practiced and natural, just like the countless times she’d taken my credit cards. “Honey, stop causing a scene. Give me the papers, we’ll talk about it at home.” I dodged her, tapping the documents again. “I don’t explain the law to those who don’t understand it. Sign it, or I’ll see you in court.” Richard, my dad, slammed his cane heavily on the ground, producing a dull thud. In his eyes, discussing court in front of such a crowd was airing our family’s dirty laundry.
Daniel POV SMACK! A loud, stinging slap landed hard on my face. Richard stood before me, his chest heaving, his palm still trembling slightly. “You bastard!” Richard roared, his voice echoing through the ballroom. “Making a scene in such high society? You have no shame, but I do! Hannah quit her job to take care of you, dedicating herself entirely to this family. Have you no conscience?” I probed my loose tooth with my tongue, swallowing the metallic taste of blood. I remembered waking up in the ICU three days ago, alone, with only a nurse coldly urging me to pay the fees. I nearly died, and no one cared. Now, simply for speaking the truth to maintain some semblance of dignity, I received a slap from my own father. Turns out, in their minds, their son’s life was less valuable than a “good person” reputation in this hypocritical community. Eleanor looked at the blood on my lip with a pang of concern, but she still clung to my arm, warning me in a low voice. “Look at who’s around! President Mason is a prominent figure. Don’t mess up our family’s affairs because of some women outside!” You see. These were my parents. In their minds, my desperate desire for a divorce could only mean I had someone else outside, that I was ungrateful. I pushed my tongue against my loosened tooth, looking at these parents who would sacrifice their son’s dignity for the sake of appearances. Fine. That slap, it snapped the last thread of hope. I looked at my father’s trembling hand, at my mother’s evasive yet accusatory gaze. When I was little, he taught me to have backbone. Now, for the sake of so-called appearances, he forced me to bow down to the person who almost killed me. Well struck. That slap, it settled the score: twenty years of raising me, and whatever father-son bond we had, were now over. I slowly raised my head, looking at Eleanor with the eyes of a stranger. “Mom, do you remember when I was wrongly accused of stealing as a child, and you took me to school to demand justice? The person you are now, it’s just… strange.” Eleanor’s eyes flickered, then were quickly masked by shame that morphed into anger. Mason stood tall, swirling his red wine, wearing a look of amusement as he watched the show.
Daniel POV Several phone cameras, originally aimed at the stage, quietly turned to me. The community’s lifestyle vloggers were getting to work. Hannah pulled out an ice pack and rushed over, pressing it against my face. That ice pack was originally for Mason’s son. Her voice choked. “Honey, I know your company’s cash flow is tight lately, and you want to transfer assets by divorcing… I don’t blame you. For richer or poorer, I’ll never leave you.” Richard, my father, furious, raised his cane to strike again, cursing me as incompetent and immoral. Everyone was advising me to be a good man, saying I’d never find a wife as good as Hannah, even crying and begging me not to drive her away. The moment the ice pack touched my skin, I caught a pungent medicinal scent. It was the smell of dog mosquito repellent. I pushed her away, disgusted, and brushed off my shoulder where she’d touched me. “Stop acting. It makes me sick.” The push wasn’t particularly hard, but Hannah stumbled back four or five steps, deliberately colliding with the corner of a table. “Ah!” She let out an exaggerated scream, instinctively clutching her stomach. Kyle, Mason’s assistant, immediately rushed over to help her up, pointing a finger at my nose and roaring. “Daniel, are you even human?! Hannah has had so many ovulation shots to give you an heir! She’s two months pregnant!” Eleanor’s purse dropped to the floor. She rushed to Hannah, forgetting all about her dignity. “My grandchild! Hannah, are you okay?” Richard, who moments ago was ready to hit me, now looked utterly panicked and remorseful. He turned to me and yelled. “What are you staring at?! Call 911 immediately! If you hurt the Owen family’s lineage, I’ll break your legs!” Hannah leaned into Eleanor’s embrace, giving me a weak glance, a flicker of triumph in her eyes. The surrounding neighbors suddenly understood. Their scornful looks morphed into mockery. “So he’s broke and trying to ditch his pregnant wife, huh?” “Be a decent human being, your wife’s pregnant!” “What a scumbag.” My gaze swept over the plump woman leading the charge. Just last week, she’d been begging Hannah for a recommendation to get her son into a private school. And the bald man, holding a bottle of wine bought with Mason’s bulk-order kickbacks. My parents clung to me, hissing at me to apologize now. I watched the whole pathetic performance and let out a cold laugh. “Two months pregnant?” Two months ago, I was in Europe for a three-week M&A negotiation, I was over 5,000 miles from here. And before that, three years ago, to prevent Hannah from using “body changes” as an excuse to avoid intimacy, I suggested we be DINKs. After that, our sexless marriage was a sham. No rush. let the bullets fly. We’ll play it slow.
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