I Quit Caring About My Cheating Husband's Love Life

Michael Grant let out a short, sarcastic laugh on the other end of the line, seemingly surprised that I'd suddenly grown a sense of humor. Then, he hung up.

A notification popped up on my phone, informing me that the three-year mourning period was over. According to the agreement between the Grants and the Riversons—Michael's family and mine—I could now get a divorce.

I'd just finished instructing my lawyer to start the divorce process when I saw Lucy Lovelace showing off her romance on her social media.

She'd posted a photo of Michael in a hospital gown and an IV in his arm. He was down on one knee as he massaged her calf. She sat on the hospital bed, smiling with bliss written all over her face.

The caption read, "I finally understand what it means when people say even the rich can be hopeless romantics. He's at the top of the social pyramid, but to me, he's nothing but a doormat that I just can't shake off no matter how hard I trample on him."

I felt nothing and didn't linger on it.

My lawyer was surprised by how calm I was. "Clients as composed as you are are really rare. Honestly, it's also admirable."

I smiled faintly. She had no idea that because of Michael's affairs, I'd screamed and fought, sunk into depression, and even tried to kill myself. That was how I'd ended up as I now was—I'd been reborn from the ashes of my dead heart.

…

Michael didn't return until a month later, in the middle of the night. Seeing that I was asleep, he moved very quietly, tiptoeing around like a thief.

He didn't know that I was a light sleeper. The slightest sound would wake me up.

Having someone else beside me in bed felt strange. I couldn't even remember how long it had been since Michael had last slept in my bed.

When I woke up the next morning, a jewelry box sat on my nightstand, holding a necklace worth 30 million dollars.

I'd seen this too many times to be surprised.

Sure enough, I soon received a gloating message from Lucy. "Mrs. Grant, it's thanks to me that you've gotten yet another necklace worth 30 million dollars. Don't you think you owe me a thank-you?"

Every time Michael tried to butter Lucy up, he would buy her all kinds of luxury goods—not that she'd ever accepted them.

In his eyes, she was the purest woman alive and someone who treated money like dirt. She'd been with him for three years, yet she'd never spent a cent of his money in all that time.

All their bills were split in half. Michael, who'd grown up dripping in designer clothes and luxury, was willing to live like an ordinary guy when he was with Lucy.

So, in his mind, her love for him was the purest love there was. It wasn't tainted by the slightest trace of greed.

Only I knew that Lucy was playing the long game so she could have him totally wrapped around her finger.

In the past, I'd acted like she was invisible and never replied to any of her messages. But on this day, I typed back a single word. "Thanks."

Once a woman regained her rationality, money no longer held the same sway over her.

Lucy was utterly stunned on the other end and replied to me in seconds. "Well, well, well. You're actually alive today. You finally learned to reply to me."

Her tongue was as sharp as ever.

Michael woke up right then and happened to catch a glimpse of my conversation with Lucy. He smiled and spoke in a tone overflowing with affection he couldn't hide. "That's why I like Lucy so much. She makes things so entertaining!"