On the third year after my husband ran off with his mistress, Ethan Shaw suddenly came home. I didn’t rush up to curse him out, and our son showed no surprise whatsoever. Ethan finally got the peace and quiet he’d always dreamed of. At parent-teacher conferences, our son stopped begging him to attend. When I walked in on another woman sitting on his lap making out with him, I tactfully pretended I saw nothing. It wasn’t until photos of him in bed with his new fling spread all over town—while our son and I were off traveling without a care—that Ethan’s eyes finally turned red. Like a madman, he smashed our luggage and demanded: “What the hell is wrong with you two! What more do you want from me to stop torturing me!” The room fell deathly silent. My son and I exchanged bewildered glances, not understanding what had gotten into him. After shooing Xavier back to his bedroom, Ethan did something unprecedented—he handed me his phone. “I already explained to you, that woman threw herself at me. If you don’t believe me, you can check for yourself.” Watching his gesture, I froze in place. Before, forget about checking his messages—if I so much as touched his phone, Ethan would fly into a rage. He’d say I didn’t respect him, that I was suffocating him. Even when I caught him cheating, Ethan refused to admit it and just left home. I thought everyone would take my side. I was wrong. His friends covered for him, and his parents cut off our living expenses: “You drove your own husband out of the house. You have some nerve asking for money.” Our son’s expensive tutoring and enrichment classes, my beauty and yoga treatments, the household utilities and living expenses—all gone. Reality slapped me in the face like a brutal wake-up call. That’s when I finally woke up. Compared to a comfortable, affluent lifestyle, what was a little thing like love worth? So I smiled politely and ignored the phone he was offering. I even gave him an out: “Of course I trust you. Sometimes these situations are unavoidable.” Ethan fell silent, his hand frozen awkwardly in midair. Suddenly, Xavier rushed out clutching his bloody mouth. His little face was pale: “Mom, I accidentally knocked out my tooth.” I immediately went on high alert and headed out with my son. Ethan was forgotten like he was invisible. His expression darkened for a moment, but he still followed us. Sliding into the driver’s seat: “I drive faster. Let me take you to the hospital.” But just as he finished speaking, his phone rang. From the other end came a woman’s sobbing voice, broken and intermittent. It was the woman from those bedroom photos, having a breakdown and threatening suicide. Ethan paused. Xavier, being very sensible, immediately said considerately: “Dad, if you have something to take care of, go ahead. Mom and I can go by ourselves.” With that, my son and I got out of the car together. The child who used to cling to him constantly had become strangely distant. Ethan’s chest rose and fell rapidly. He seemed like he wanted to say something, reluctantly following behind us. But we had already hailed a ride and left. Fortunately, since it was just baby teeth, Xavier was fine. We checked into a hotel for the night. The next day we visited a nearby children’s amusement park, and didn’t return home until evening with takeout leftovers and desserts. Strangely, Ethan—who usually came home after midnight—was actually there. When he saw the cake in my hands, his somewhat cold expression instantly brightened. He smiled and reached for the box: “I knew you didn’t forget my birthday.” But his smile hadn’t fully formed before he saw what was left of the demolished cake. I felt a bit embarrassed and exchanged a guilty look with my equally sheepish son. I was about to say something when a woman walked out from the living room. It was the woman from the bedroom photos—Riley Cooper. Riley was Ethan’s recent charity case, a student with no parents, raising her younger sister. She looked at me apologetically, her face flushed with embarrassment. “Ms. Charlotte, Mr. Shaw had too much to drink that day. I was just taking him to a hotel when someone took photos of us secretly. That’s how those pictures happened.” Just taking him to a hotel—how would they both end up barely clothed in bed together? Riley’s explanation was clearly a cover-up. What’s more, she was currently wearing my clothes, her eyes carrying subtle provocation. But I didn’t mind. Ethan had brought home at least eighty women before, if not a hundred. I’d seen every trick in the book. What was one more? So I smiled tolerantly, and under Ethan’s increasingly dark expression, said considerately: “Thank you for coming to explain. It’s raining outside. Would you like to stay the night?”
Riley looked pleasantly surprised, her eyes blinking like a doe’s as she gazed at Ethan with a lingering voice: “Either way is fine with me.” “Enough! Stop pretending to be so virtuous!” Veins bulged on Ethan’s forehead. He grabbed Riley and stormed out, slamming the door. Almost simultaneously, Xavier and I breathed a sigh of relief. When Ethan was home, we were always on edge. His departure actually felt liberating. I assumed after leaving like that, Ethan wouldn’t return tonight. But I’d barely fallen asleep when a pair of hands slipped into my pajamas. Instantly, goosebumps covered my entire body. I rolled over and swatted his hand away. Ethan’s patience finally ran out completely. He stared at me, breathing heavily: “Charlotte Sterling, I apologized, I brought her to explain to you—what more do you want!” His eyes were red-rimmed, the grievance and restraint in them seeming ready to overflow. I’d woken up abruptly and was still drowsy, just wanting to quickly smooth things over. So my face slowly arranged itself into a polite smile. “You’re really overthinking this. It’s late, let’s just get some sleep.” But Ethan had no intention of letting me off. He gripped my wrist, his voice breaking with emotion: “You weren’t like this before! You used to call and text me if I wasn’t home by eight! You never slept until I came back, always had hangover soup ready because you worried about me drinking.” “But now?” Ethan’s grip on my hand tightened: “You even forgot my birthday.” “I don’t understand—it was only three years! And I came back, didn’t I?” Looking at his aggrieved, resentful expression, I felt nauseated, my body trembling slightly. So he knew all along—my humiliating past when I debased myself. Throwing away my dignity, following him around like a bitter housewife. Even his company employees would say when they saw me: “That desperate woman is here again…” But what he didn’t know was that back then, to find Ethan after he ran away, my mother searched outside every single day. Her own husband had long been unfaithful, their marriage a shell. She didn’t want her daughter’s marriage to follow the same path. But tragically, during a summer heatwave of 104 degrees, Mom had a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. She was still clutching printed missing person flyers when she died. My world collapsed. For a whole month, my pillow was never dry. Every second was spent in pain and hatred. Xavier lost his beloved grandmother. And Ethan was out living it up with his little girlfriend, scandal after scandal making the news. Now that he’d had his fun, he wanted to come back to the family. I was utterly disgusted.
But Ethan was still lecturing me with self-righteous superiority. “Didn’t your mother go through the same thing? I provide you with food and comfort—why can’t you learn from her? I—” Slap! Before he could finish, I smacked him across the face. Ethan flew into a rage. He glared at me, teeth clenched, and let out a cold laugh. That night, we parted on terrible terms. For the next week, Ethan didn’t come home. As if to prove he could live carefree without me. The TV occasionally broadcast news about him, but my son and I would simply scroll past it. Meanwhile, his overseas school application had been approved. Next month, I would accompany my son to America. Thinking about never having to stay by Ethan’s side again, Xavier and I smiled in unison. But before our smiles could fade, bang!—Ethan in a wheelchair violently pushed the door open. The next instant, his face turned extremely dark. Staring at the smile just disappearing from my lips, he said coldly: “Living quite comfortably without me at home, aren’t you?” He’d broken his leg skiing. Behind him, Riley was attentively comforting him. “Ethan, you just got out of the hospital—don’t get angry.” Ethan glanced at me, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her. With pointed sarcasm: “At least you care about me, unlike certain ungrateful people.” Then he looked back at me. But I showed no reaction, simply covering my son’s disgusted eyes and leading him to the bedroom. Ethan had always been promiscuous, but he’d never been this shameless in front of our son before. Xavier seemed down. I comforted him for a while until he slowly closed his eyes, then turned to close the door. But the next instant, I ran into Ethan blocking the doorway. He stared at me silently, his face carrying faint mockery and even some smugness. I didn’t understand what he meant. As I stepped aside to leave, he grabbed my hand. “If you don’t care, why are you jealous? Charlotte, when are you going to fix this habit of saying one thing and meaning another?” I was somewhat stunned. Even now, he still thought I’d be jealous. I didn’t know whether to laugh at how ridiculous or pathetic he was… Just as I was about to speak, suddenly a scream rang out. My head buzzed. Following the sound, I saw it came from the room where I’d placed my mother’s ashes. I rushed over. Riley looked at Ethan with a pale face, pointing at the urn in distress: “Why is there an urn in here? It scared me to death.” Suppressing my anger, I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door. “This isn’t a room you should be staying in. There are so many empty bedrooms on the first floor—why did you have to come to this one?” As soon as I finished speaking, Riley’s tears fell. “Am I not supposed to stay here…” Ethan frowned and immediately blocked me. His tone was forceful: “Charlotte, this is my house. I can let her stay in whichever room I want. You have no right to interfere.” I froze in place, cold seeping through my bones, chilling me to despair. A similar scene was repeating itself. Ethan really knew how to humiliate me. Three years ago, our worst fight was also because his little mistress wanted to stay in my mother’s room. I refused. Ethan directly ordered the servants to throw our things out. My mother, at her age, cried helplessly like a child. But she still forced herself to comfort me: “I’m fine, Mom. I can stay downstairs…” But now she was gone, and still being humiliated like this… Despair shot from my eyes. Meeting my reddened eyes, Ethan’s hand suddenly loosened. His tone softened considerably: “Charlotte, what’s wrong with you—ah!” Accompanied by Riley’s scream, a loud slap landed on Ethan’s face. Riley rushed over and shoved me aside, spreading her arms to shield Ethan. “How dare you hit him! Can’t you see he’s injured! You don’t deserve to be a wife.” Her cheeks twitched, her resentment looking as if I’d hit her own husband. But Ethan wasn’t angry at all. He stared at me quietly, his eyes penetrating, as if trying to see through my exterior to what I was thinking. “Are you jealous?”
I laughed coldly, no longer indulging his delusions, and left holding the urn. But Ethan unwillingly followed me. “Why won’t you answer me? Are you feeling guilty?” His gaze fell on the box in my arms, and he frowned: “Is that your pet’s ashes?” Bang! The only response he got was me slamming the door in his face. Ethan stiffened, then pounded on the door in fury. “Charlotte Sterling, what’s the meaning of this! Who gave you permission to keep ashes in the house! What if it scares people? Come out here…” The intermittent voice outside the door continued for a long time, until Riley coaxed him back to his room. I took a deep breath. I immediately decided to rent an apartment the next day. I was very efficient. I hadn’t been out long before I’d secured a rental. But when I returned to pick up my son, I found him crying with his head down. “Xavier?” “Mom!” The instant he saw me, Xavier rushed into my arms. I touched the handprint on his face, my heart clenching in spasms. Xavier sobbed uncontrollably, pointing at the innocent-looking Riley: “I told her I’m allergic to milk. She made me drink it anyway. When I pushed her away, the milk spilled on her, and Dad… hit me.” His bright eyes were full of humiliation. Two adults bullying a child, yet neither showed a trace of remorse. Riley’s lips curved in a smug smile as she passive-aggressively explained: “That was coconut milk, with just a little milk in it. Drinking it wouldn’t hurt.” Seeing I wasn’t responding to her, she snorted coldly. “Ms. Charlotte, that’s not how you raise children. You’ll spoil him—ah!” Slap! I cut off her words with a smack. Riley’s tears came flooding out as she screamed hysterically. In an instant, Ethan came rolling out in his wheelchair. Behind him, a little girl ran out and rushed straight to Riley. “Riley!” It was Riley’s sister, Skye. Really bringing the whole family along, infesting the place like cockroaches. Ethan looked furious, his low voice showing he was on the edge of rage. “Charlotte, what are you making a scene about first thing in the morning! Why do you have to give Riley such a hard time? She’s just here to take care of me out of kindness!” I said coldly: “She deserved it! Xavier has a severe allergy—he can’t have even a drop of milk. What were you and she thinking!” My words were sharp, my tone making no effort to hide my disgust. Ethan froze, as if hurt by my expression. He slammed his hand on the armrest in anger. Scolding: “What are you implying? Xavier is my son—would I harm him!” He actually had the nerve to call Xavier his son. In all ten years, he’d never taken care of him for a single day. What right did he have to call himself a father? I laughed sarcastically, about to speak. Suddenly Skye rushed over and rammed hard into my stomach. “You’re a bad woman! You’re deliberately bullying my sister!” With that, she whirled like a tornado into my bedroom. When she came back out, she was holding my mother’s urn high above her head. Alarm bells went off in my head, my heart leaping to my throat. I shouted frantically: “Put that down! That’s my mother!” Xavier was also desperate, yelling: “Put it down! Can’t you understand words!” But Ethan suddenly smiled, his lips curling with disdain. “Charlotte, what lies won’t you tell now? If your mother had passed away, why didn’t anyone notify me?” My eyes were forced red. I held back tears on the verge of breaking through, glaring at him with hatred. His family didn’t care at all—who would go out of their way to notify him? “That really is my mother. Just have Skye put down the ashes, and I’ll leave with Xavier immediately. We’ll never come back.” I thought Ethan would be tempted, but somehow his expression grew even uglier. His tone turned even more sinister. “Charlotte, are you threatening me? But I hate threats more than anything.” With that, he looked at Skye and coldly uttered one word: smash. Skye glared at me triumphantly, and just as I desperately lunged forward, she violently smashed the box on the ground.
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