Chapter 2

I stayed awake until dawn.

It was nearly noon when Emily finally stumbled out of the bedroom, yawning and stretching.

Whenever I returned from a business trip, I’d make it up to her by preparing a lavish breakfast, taking her out for meals and entertainment, and buying her anything she wanted.

She didn’t deserve any of it.

When she saw the empty dining table, she frowned.

“Honey, you’re off today. Make some crispy roast chicken and meatloaf for me to take to Mom. She hasn’t had them in ages.”

She said it as though it were the most natural thing in the world, expecting me to jump up and prepare everything like I always had, then ask afterward whether my mother-in-law enjoyed the food.

No wonder she’d always looked strange whenever she talked about the meals.

They weren’t going to my mother-in-law at all. They were ending up in her lover’s stomach.

If I hadn’t seen her messages from that morning on the security footage, I might still be completely in the dark.

I could almost picture her lover eating the food I’d prepared while sleeping with my wife and laughing at me behind my back.

I stared at Emily.

“I don’t feel like cooking.”

Her brows shot up, and she was about to explode.

I took out my medical report and handed it to her.

“My stomach has been hurting a lot lately, and they found a mass. The tests showed that I have stage-two stomach cancer.”

I studied her face, hoping to see even the slightest hint of concern.

Instead, I saw a flicker of poorly concealed delight in her eyes.

“I’ve told you to drink less when you’re entertaining clients, but you never listen. Now you’ve got stomach cancer. Why does my life have to be so miserable?”

She burst into tears as she spoke.

I rubbed my temples and continued.

“How much of the money I’ve given you over the years have you saved?”

Emily stiffened like a startled cat, her eyes turning guarded.

“You’re a man. Your job is to focus on making money. Managing the savings is a woman’s responsibility. You don’t need to worry about it.”

All these years, she’d never let me look at her phone, claiming it meant I didn’t trust her.

She’d also never let me ask how much money we’d saved, always saying that men changed once they had too much money.

I’d considered those little things unimportant as long as she was committed to our marriage.

Now, I couldn’t help wondering if she’d already moved the money somewhere else.

I took a deep breath.

“Give me $50,000. I need it for treatment.”

Emily shot to her feet.

“Are you crazy? Do you think saving money is that easy? You just open your mouth and demand fifty thousand dollars!”

I gave Emily $4,000 to $5,000 every month, and I also handed over my annual bonuses, which ranged from $30,000 to $50,000.

Even after five years, there was no way we couldn’t have saved at least $50,000.

I tried to go through the numbers with her, but she cut me off.

“You don’t know how expensive it is to run a household. Food, clothes, transportation, everything costs money. What you gave me was barely enough. How could I possibly have saved anything?”

I’d known asking her for money wouldn’t be easy, but seeing her react like this still infuriated me.

“I don’t believe you. Show me the statements if you want me to believe you.”

Emily let out a shriek and lunged at me, her long, intimidating acrylic nails scratching across my face.

“Daniel Whitaker, I’ll never forgive you! I’ve worked so hard managing our money, and you actually have the nerve to accuse me of stealing it? I want a divorce!”

My face burned where her nails had cut me. The anger from everything that had happened finally boiled over, and I instinctively pushed her away.

She stumbled backward several steps before landing heavily on the couch. Then she burst into tears and called her mother.

Not long afterward, my mother-in-law, Catherine Holloway, came rushing over, with Emily’s lover, Ryan Mitchell, close behind.

Catherine spoke with exaggerated solemnity.

“You laid a hand on Emily. There’s no way this marriage can continue now.

“You’ve turned my daughter into a divorcee. The least you can do is leave everything behind as compensation.”

I pointed at the bloody scratches across my face and laughed bitterly.

“She scratches my face until I’m bleeding, and that’s not domestic violence? I push her once, and suddenly I’m the abuser?

“She’ll be divorced once. Who’s going to compensate me when I’m the one facing divorce?”

Tears still clung to Emily’s cheeks. She was about to start yelling at me when Ryan discreetly patted her hand and looked at me with open disdain.

“Daniel, as a fellow man, I’m ashamed of you.”