When Alayna Williams married me, Colton Walsh, she was carrying millions of dollars in debt. For her sake, I worked three jobs simultaneously for five years, paid off her “debts,” and supported both her and our son Mark Walsh. I never complained once, always believing that better days lay ahead. Last week, our company finally secured a massive investment. We celebrated in each other’s arms, and I thought our good days had finally arrived. Today, I saw her again on the financial news. She was dressed in an elegant gown, introduced as “the sole heir to a billion-dollar business empire,” laughing and chatting with her “investor” Finn Walsh. The headline read: [Alayna Williams completes five-year “poverty trial,” proving her exceptional self-made capabilities to the board of directors.] I returned home in a daze. Five-year-old Mark was playing with the latest limited-edition robot. He looked up at me with eyes identical to his mother’s—cold and unfamiliar. He said, “Mom told me everything. Dad, you failed the test. You love money too much.” Those words hit me like an icy bullet, piercing through my eardrums and exploding in my mind. I looked at Mark, who was playing with that limited-edition robot I’d earned by pulling three all-nighters doing freelance design work. That face, so much like Alayna’s, showed a coldness no five-year-old should possess. “Mark, what are you talking about?” My throat tightened, each word struggling to escape. He said, “Mom told me everything. Mom said real men don’t talk about money all the time. You calculate living expenses every day, run two blocks for supermarket discounts, and get angry when I break a toy.” I quickly said, “I wasn’t angry, I was…” “Mom says you’re small-minded,” he interrupted, his tone cold and mechanical. “She said you only see small gains in front of you. Your love is too cheap and too heavy.” My heart was seized by an invisible hand, the pain making it nearly impossible to breathe. Every penny I’d saved for this family, all the comforts I’d given up to pay off her millions in “debt,” my arm burned at the late-night convenience store job, nearly collapsing on the roadside after dozens of consecutive overtime hours at the design firm… All these sacrifices had become “small-minded” and “money-obsessed” in their eyes. I crouched down, trying to hold his hand, but he recoiled in disgust. “Don’t touch my robot. You can’t afford it.” I can’t afford it? The receipt was still lying quietly in my wallet. I opened my mouth but couldn’t make a sound. I stood up in a daze, staggering backward until my back hit the cold wall. My gaze swept across the living room and finally stopped at the table. There lay a document and a check. Divorce papers! Alayna’s name was already signed, the handwriting elegant and composed, just like her appearance on the financial news. Next to it was a check—my “severance pay” earned through five years of youth, multiple jobs, and countless sleepless nights. Ironically, just last week, we had embraced right here as she said, “Colton, our hard times are over. We’re going to be the happiest family!” Looking back now, that was just the final line before the test ended. My phone rang sharply, the screen showing “Darling” as the contact name. I numbly answered the call. “Did you see it?” Alayna’s voice came through the receiver, devoid of any warmth. “Colton, our ‘poverty trial’ is over. Congratulations on making it through the entire process. But unfortunately, you’ve been eliminated.” “A test?” I managed to croak out, my voice extremely hoarse. “Yes, a test.” She laughed lightly, her laughter full of mockery. “I needed to prove to the board that even in the most desperate circumstances, I could attract a loyal partner and succeed in business. Finn Walsh is my investor and my real fiancé. And you were my randomly chosen ‘husband’ role to complete this social experiment—it just happened that you’re also named Walsh.” I quickly said, “So that millions in debt…” She said, “Oh, that was another way of saying startup capital. If I hadn’t said that, how could I have tested your character under extreme pressure?” “Alayna!” I said through gritted teeth, my nails digging deep into my palms. “You’re such a bitch!” “Am I? But this ‘bitch’ is now the heir to billions in assets.” Her tone remained calm. “Colton, take the check and leave gracefully. Don’t make me despise your final moments.” She paused, then added something even more cruel: “Oh, and Mark isn’t your son. He’s Finn’s and my child. I was never pregnant with your baby. You were just a performer in the ‘socialized parenting’ phase of his upbringing. Now the real man of the house is coming back, so please move out of this house that belongs to the Williams family immediately.” In that moment, I felt like I’d fallen into an ice cave. Alayna continued, “Finn and the Williams Group legal team will be there in half an hour to handle the transition. Remember, be graceful about it.” The call ended. I held the phone as if gripping a red-hot branding iron. Socialized parenting? So even my qualification to be a father was something they had granted me, only to take it away.
I didn’t move. I wouldn’t just leave like this. What belonged to me, I would take back piece by piece with my own hands. When the doorbell rang, it was ten minutes earlier than Alayna had announced—urgent, as if Christian couldn’t wait any longer. I opened the door to find Finn standing there, the same polished business elite with his perfect smile from the financial news. Behind him stood a man and woman in crisp suits, likely members of Williams Group’s legal team. “Mr. Colton Walsh, hello.” Finn spoke, his voice calm yet like a stone dropped into still water, creating ripples across the surface. He didn’t look down on me from above, but rather surveyed me up and down with a somewhat pitying gaze. “These five years have really been hard on you. Honestly, you did better than I expected—very convincing performance.” After speaking, he walked straight past me into the living room, as if he were the true master of this house. “Mark, Daddy’s here.” Mark, who had been playing with his robot, immediately dropped his toy and pounced into his arms like a happy kitten. “Daddy! You’re here!” Finn nodded to his secretary, who promptly handed over a box of the latest limited-edition luxury toys. “Of course, I promised you that once Mommy’s ‘game’ was over, I’d take you home. We’ll go abroad this weekend, okay?” Mark exclaimed excitedly, “Yes! I love Daddy and Mommy the most!” They interacted intimately, as if they were the real family, while I was just a temporary actor whose role had ended and who should exit the stage. My heart had long since gone numb beyond feeling pain. Finn held Mark while his gaze swept across the living room, finally settling on the fabric sofa set I’d found at the secondhand market. He frowned slightly, as if seeing something unsightly. “Really, how could Alayna live in a place like this, using such cheap furniture? These things aren’t worthy of her.” He turned to the lawyer Jeffrey Lakin behind him. “Make a note—have a cleaning company come later and dispose of all the furniture here. Alayna’s home shouldn’t have any cheap items.” Jeffrey replied, “Yes, Mr. Finn Walsh.” Every word Finn spoke precisely negated all my efforts over the past five years. I had scrimped and saved for our shared “future.” In his eyes, it was merely “cheap junk” that tainted his fiancée’s noble status. Jeffrey walked up to me and handed over a pen with an expressionless face. “Mr. Colton Walsh, please sign the divorce papers. Five million dollars in compensation is already the industry’s highest standard for a five-year ‘role-playing’ project. Miss Williams and Mr. Finn Walsh are being very generous.” “Industry’s highest standard?” I repeated those words, finding them utterly absurd. They actually treated my life as a transaction with a clear price tag. “Yes.” Jeffrey adjusted his glasses. “Additionally, Mr. Finn Walsh is kindhearted and specifically asked me to remind you not to engage in any harassment. Any harassment from you will be viewed by our legal department as malicious provocation against Williams Group. I assume you wouldn’t want to see those consequences.” His words carried undisguised threats. Finn walked over holding Mark, wearing his signature perfect smile. “Colton, don’t misunderstand—we’re not threatening you. You’re a smart man; you should know how to make the right choice, right?” He looked down and said gently to Mark in his arms, “Good boy, say goodbye to him. He’s leaving our home.” Mark peeked out from his embrace to look at me. Those eyes that had once been full of dependence now held only strangeness and impatience. “Daddy, let’s go quickly. I don’t want to look at him. Mommy said his poor smell would affect me.” The words “poor smell” completely shattered the last trace of warmth in my heart. I looked at them and suddenly laughed.
My laughter left both Finn and Jeffrey stunned. They probably expected me to explode in anger, curse hysterically, or fall to my knees begging. The one thing they never anticipated was laughter. “What are you laughing at?” Finn frowned. “Nothing,” I stopped laughing, my expression completely calm. “I just think you both put on quite a performance.” I turned and walked into the bedroom, dragging several storage boxes out from under the bed. I’d bought these a few days ago, originally planning to use them for organizing seasonal clothes as we welcomed our beautiful new life together. “Well, well, have you finally come to your senses and decided to pack up and get lost?” Finn crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe, his voice dripping with mockery. I ignored him. I began systematically organizing all my expense records from the past five years. Over five years, I’d printed out every single bank statement from three different jobs. Among them were my own credit card bills and every transaction detail from Alayna’s “debt-ridden” supplementary credit card. Finn’s expression shifted from mockery to confusion, then to a hint of wariness. “Colton, what the hell are you doing? You’re not thinking you can use these scraps of paper to demand money, are you? Let me tell you, it won’t work. We have the best legal team money can buy.” I still said nothing. From a dedicated file folder, I pulled out a thick stack of receipts. Then I retrieved the final item—the purchase record and invoice for Mark’s limited edition robot. The invoice was made out in my name. The payment account was my salary card. I gently placed this invoice on top of all the evidence, like stamping a final seal on my absurd five years. After finishing all this, I closed the box lid. Three large boxes in total. Not a single personal item among them. Just my five years of blood, sweat, time, and my trampled, worthless life. I looked up at Finn and Jeffrey. “I’m taking these with me.” Jeffrey clearly found my behavior incomprehensible too. “Mr. Walsh, these are household consumption receipts from your shared family life. You have no right to take them unilaterally. Moreover, this cannot serve as grounds for demanding additional compensation.” “Who said I want additional compensation?” I asked back. I looked at Finn, who was staring at me like I was insane, his lips curled in undisguised mockery. “A leopard never changes its spots—you really are all about money. Colton, you’re beyond saving.” “Yes,” I nodded, accepting it openly, “I never change, and I am all about money.” Because in this world, only money won’t betray me. I dragged those boxes of heavy “waste paper” to the entryway and changed my shoes. Throughout it all, I never looked at Mark again. I only took my driver’s license, passport, bank cards, and these boxes of things more important to me than life itself. As I opened the door, preparing to leave this “home” I’d poured five years of my heart into, Finn spoke behind me in a voice just loud enough for me to hear clearly, saying to Mark: “See? I told you so, didn’t I? A man like that doesn’t deserve to be your father. Money is all that matters in his world.” The moment the door closed, I heard their laughter. I dragged three heavy suitcases behind me like a homeless vagrant, wandering through the city streets. As darkness fell, every warm light glowing from windows seemed to mock my homelessness. I found a budget hotel, planning to use the few thousand dollars left on my card to settle in temporarily. The front desk clerk said, “I’m sorry, sir, but your card has been frozen.” I tried another card. The clerk said again, “I’m sorry, it still won’t work.” I tried every card in my wallet, including all my credit cards, but they were all frozen. A chill ran from my feet straight to my head. I thought, “Alayna is really ruthless. She didn’t just kick me out of the house—she cut off all my escape routes.” Just as I was about to drag my suitcases away, a black Mercedes pulled up at the hotel entrance. “Mr. Walsh, we meet again.” Jeffrey’s expression was emotionless, like a precision machine. “What do you want from me?” My voice was hoarse. “There are some matters that need to be explained to you.” He handed me a document. “Given that you maliciously stole financial materials related to the Williams Group’s ‘heir trial’ project this afternoon—specifically those boxes of invoices and receipts you took—your actions have created potential risks for the project. Therefore, Ms. Williams has decided to revoke your five hundred thousand dollar ‘severance package.’” My mind went blank. I thought, “Malicious theft? She’s calling the evidence I personally organized ‘theft.’” “Furthermore.” Jeffrey seemed to enjoy my expression at that moment as he pulled out another document—one I knew all too well, because I had signed my name on it five years ago. At the time, Alayna told me it was our prenuptial agreement, designed to ensure I would still have some protection after we went “bankrupt.” My breathing nearly stopped. Jeffrey flipped to a specific page, pointing to a supplementary clause in small print, reading it to me word by word: “Supplementary Clause 3.1: Colton’s role as ‘father’ and his performance of ‘paternal’ duties are both part of this project. The child he is raising, Mark, is actually the child of Alayna and project investor Finn. Colton serves only as the caregiver and has no legal parental rights.” My world completely collapsed in that moment, crumbling to dust. I had always believed that Mark was the son I had raised with all my strength. It turned out that even this most basic blood connection was a lie. My body shook violently, and I could barely stand. Jeffrey didn’t pause. He flipped to the most devastating final page: “Supplementary Clause 7.4: All of Colton’s contributions over five years, including but not limited to household labor, emotional support, and childcare activities, are essentially defined as Colton’s ‘labor.’ His compensation was to be a five million dollar trust fund established by Alayna upon project completion.” He paused, then delivered the final verdict with the tone of a death sentence: “However, since Colton’s final evaluation was deemed ‘unsatisfactory,’ according to clause 7.5, the beneficiary of said trust fund was legally and properly transferred to Finn at three o’clock this afternoon.” He closed the document and held it in front of me. “So all of this was just for a test you failed to pass. “You now have nothing. The son you thought you had, the love, and the money you thought you deserved—none of it exists. “You are nothing.” I stared at him, at that agreement, at my own signature on it. It turned out that my life, the love I had been so proud of, the family I had given everything to maintain, was nothing more than an elaborate, carefully planned commercial experiment that I knew nothing about—one that was ultimately judged a “failure.” And they used the “legal” agreement I had signed with my own hand to cast me into irreversible hell. I could no longer hold myself up. My legs gave out, and I fell straight to my knees. All the sounds around me disappeared, leaving only the sound of my heart shattering. Despair swallowed me completely like a tidal wave. I don’t know how I left that hotel. I only remember Jeffrey and his colleague looking at me kneeling on the ground like I was trash, then getting in their car and driving away. Like a walking corpse, I dragged those three heavy boxes of “jokes” through the late-night streets with no destination. My bank cards were frozen due to a failed business project, I had less than a hundred dollars in cash, couldn’t afford a hotel, and couldn’t go home. The world was so vast, yet there was no place for me. As my sanity teetered on the edge of collapse, just when I thought I might go insane or collapse on the street, an image suddenly flashed through my mind. I thought, “Alayna, you like playing poor, don’t you? Then let’s see how you like being truly poor!”
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