LOGINMy wife, Abby Wright, is a top-tier venture capitalist who measures everything and everyone in terms of return on investment (ROI). If something promises a high return, she pours her heart into it. Anything under 20% gets tossed aside. On our fifth anniversary, she assessed our relationship at a 10% ROI. That same night, she dropped millions of dollars to host an art exhibition for her childhood friend, Edward Dawson, citing an 80% return. When Mom was rushed to the ER with a sudden heart attack, Abby calculated her survival ROI at 15%. She left me stranded all night just to fly overseas with Edward to chase the aurora—a trip she rated at a 90% return. The breaking point comes when my PhD research team gets trapped while mountain climbing and I injure my leg. With rescue teams too far away, we desperately need Abby to deploy her company's helicopter. But she coldly refuses over the phone. "A single helicopter flight costs hundreds of thousands. What kind of return can a bunch of broke students like you actually give me?" Weak from hunger, I plead, "We're completely out of food and water. We're going to starve." She snaps impatiently, "Edward's cat is a rare, award-winning breed worth a fortune. If it freezes to death, can you afford to pay for it?" As I suffer through dehydration and starvation, waiting for help that never comes, I scroll past a new post from Edward. "Turns out kitty was just hiding under the couch, but she dropped a multi-million dollar deal anyway, calling this her best investment yet." The photo shows Abby gently stroking the cat. Turns out ROI assessments were always just an excuse. The truth is, she just doesn't love me. As the sun dips below the horizon, I dial the one number I've avoided for a year. "Professor Buckner, I'll join that classified national project you mentioned."
View MoreIn her desperation, Abby used the few dollars she made selling junk to buy a cheap carving knife and a block of scrap wood.She tried to carve a ring like the one I had once made for her, hoping to awaken a sliver of my old affection.Her hands, ravaged by severe chilblains and broken bones, couldn't even hold the blade steady.The knife slipped time and again, slicing her flesh until her hands bled, yet she couldn't carve even a decent curve.Dragging her broken leg, she crawled through a rainy night all the way to the luxury care home where Mom was recovering.The pouring rain washed over the filth covering her body.Kneeling in the storm, she tried to pass the blood-stained wooden ring to the gatekeeper. "Please… give this to Johann."The gatekeeper used a stick to flick the scrap wood away in disgust. "What kind of trash is this? Don't block Dr. Aguirre's way."The heavy iron gates slowly slid open.I walked out of the care facility, holding a black umbrella.As if grabbi
Abby's eyes remained locked onto me in the gallery, brimming with desperate pleas.I remained expressionless the entire time, without so much as a glance in her direction.During the recess, I pulled out my phone and dialed the nurses' station.My voice was soft and warm. "How was my mom's appetite at lunch?"Great. Please add a bowl of mild chicken noodle soup for her."After I hung up, my eyes briefly met Abby's hopeless stare.The stark contrast cut into her heart like a dull blade.As the judge struck the gavel, the courtroom fell into utter silence."Defendant Edward Dawson is sentenced to 15 years in prison on multiple charges and ordered to pay ten million dollars in civil damages."Defendant Abby Wright is sentenced to three years in prison. All assets under her name are to be auctioned to settle her debts."The moment the court was adjourned, Edward suddenly lunged at Abby like a rabid dog.Opening his jaw, he sank his teeth deep into Abby's ear.Screams echoed acr
The corridors of the detention center were dark and damp.Wearing a prison jumpsuit, Abby sat inside the visitation room.She used her last phone privilege to contact her personal lawyer, planning to blackmail me using intimate photos and private audio recordings from our past to ruin my reputation online.Her lawyer had barely finished drafting the message when his computer screen instantly went black.A red warning popped up across the display. "Involves top-secret national security asset. Device locked by military."Five minutes later, officers from the National Security Agency burst into the law firm, pinning the attorney to the floor on charges of attempting to leak state secrets.Back in the visitation room, the heavy iron door groaned open.Expecting her lawyer, Abby snapped her head up eagerly.It wasn't a police officer who walked in, but me, wearing a crisp, tailored military uniform.My combat boots struck the concrete floor, echoing with a suffocating heaviness.A
I stopped in my tracks.Looking down at Abby from above, I pulled a calculator from my pocket—the very item she used to cherish most.I stared at her and coldly hit the clear button. The crisp beep echoed sharply in the quiet air."Ms. Wright, your company is currently 80 million dollars in debt. You have zero commercial value and provide negative emotional value. Going by your formula, why on earth would I take over a worthless asset like that?"Abby's pride was crushed into the dirt.Trembling, she reached out, trying to grab the hem of my pants.A sharp female colonel standing beside me kicked Abby's shoulder without a shred of mercy.Abby tumbled backward like a ragdoll.I stepped into a bulletproof sedan without looking back, saying one last thing before the door sealed shut. "Toss her far away. She's an eyesore."…Dazed and broken, Abby dragged herself back to her seized company building.The official seal across the entrance fluttered in the wind.She pushed open th
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