I Married And Divorced My Wife Nine Times

The guests at the venue exchanged uneasy glances.

“Ms. Ruth has gone too far. She is actually remarrying Mr. Will for the tenth time because of her adopted brother. How could she ditch him at a moment like this?”

“Exactly. Mr. Will treated her so well. He even donated part of his liver to save her. Old Mr. Dauchy practically disowned him over it.”

They looked at me with sympathy.

Even outsiders could tell that Ruth Davis had gone too far.

Her mother, Mallory Davis, quickly grabbed my arm and said anxiously, “Will, hurry and explain things to everyone. Ruth just went home to deal with a family matter. Just announce the remarriage first.”

As I looked at Mallory, the woman who had always claimed she treated me like her own son, I felt a surge of anger building in my chest.

“Mallory, do you really think everyone here is stupid? I’ve used that same excuse nine times. Do you expect me to say it a tenth time too?”

Mallory’s expression darkened immediately. She said with displeasure, “As you said, nine times. So, what is one more? You won’t even say something to defend Ruth. Is your love for her even real?”

She spoke as if the request were perfectly justified.

Over the past two years, ever since Ruth’s adopted brother, Peter Conroy, returned home, we had gotten married and divorced nine times.

Every single time, she gambled our marriage against Peter in some bet.

Every single time, she had lost without exception.

The first time, she lost a game and announced our divorce at my birthday party.

The guests at the celebration were stunned when they saw the divorce papers plastered across the entire hall.

The second time, she lost a street race and punished herself by speeding down a mountain road. She ended up in a car accident. Our remarriage had to be postponed yet again.

The third time…

Every single time, she would give me that troubled look and say, “Will, Peter just came back to the country. He doesn’t have any friends here. I’m as close to a sister as he can have. It’s only right that I keep him occupied.”

My chest tightened with pain as I recalled those events.

She lost every bet. Did they really think I was an idiot?

Last month, their bet had been about who could find a wedding ring first in a swimming pool barely one meter deep.

Ruth had been captain of her university swim team, yet right before reaching the ring, she suddenly resurfaced and claimed she could not breathe.

Peter grabbed the ring first and said with a grin, “Ruth, you lose to me every time. Are you secretly looking for excuses to divorce Will? Maybe you should let me wear the ring instead and see if it suits me.”

Ruth only smiled at him indulgently. “Fine. You won, so the ring is yours.”

That day, she told me it would have looked improper to remarry without a wedding ring, so we could only divorce first and buy a new one later.

However, she could have reached the ring with a simple stretch of her hand. We had only been one second away from not having to divorce at all.

Mallory was still trying to persuade me when Ruth walked in arm in arm with Peter.

“Will, it took me three hours and one minute to find Peter. A bet is a bet, so we should postpone the remarriage.”

Right in front of everyone, she took down our wedding photo and tossed it into the trash.

A wave of shocked gasps swept through the venue.

Her dismissive attitude instantly turned the crowd’s sympathy toward me into ridicule.

The dignified heir of the Dauchy family had somehow become a man others could humiliate without restraint.

Seeing the provocation written all over Peter’s face, I scoffed. “Ruth, how about we make a bet too? Let’s see whether you will lose our tenth remarriage. The wager is your family’s bankruptcy.”