Chapter 3

On my way home, my emotions were all over the place.

Back then, I'd severed ties with my family and stubbornly chose to be with Jenna. We'd slept in basements, worked delivery jobs, and waited tables just to scrape together a tiny bit of savings.

In the fourth year of our startup, my family finally relented and accepted our relationship. We'd registered our marriage and were legally husband and wife by then.

I'd secretly leveraged my family's strings to help grow the company into what it was today, but to make her happy, I'd never told her the truth. So, she genuinely believed it was all the fruit of her hard work.

But ever since Ansel became our driver, our relationship started to slowly, silently rot away.

When I unlocked the door and stepped into the living room, the first thing I noticed was a pair of men's leather shoes. On the balcony, there were even two pairs of underwear that weren't mine.

My blood boiled in fury as I strode toward the bedroom, where the bed was a disheveled mess, and the floor was littered with countless used condoms.

I never imagined that while I was away, Jenna had taken the chance to bring Ansel into our bed. My hands were shaking from the rage, and the humiliation of being cheated on crashed over me like a tidal wave.

I frantically called Jenna to demand an explanation, but she never picked up. It wasn't until 8:00 pm that Ansel opened the front door with practiced ease and carried the drunken Jenna in.

My expression was gloomy as I blocked his way. "You may leave now. I'll take care of my wife."

I reached out to take her from his arms, but she shoved me away. "Go away! I only want Ansel to stay with me!"

Ansel shot me a triumphant grin, his eyes gleaming with unwavering determination. "I'll do it, Mr. Crane. I'm used to taking care of her.

"Jenna only has eyes for me right now. She doesn't like outsiders touching her."

I was the legal husband, and yet, I was the so-called outsider.

"Jenna, I want you to kick him out."

Furious, Jenna ripped her bag off her shoulder and slammed it right into my face. "If anyone's leaving, it's you, Elton. I'm the one carrying this entire family on my back, and what have you even done besides ducking your responsibilities and fooling around?

"Instead of wasting time being jealous of Ansel, why don't you secure that magazine interview? I wouldn't have had the chance to promote the company if Ansel hadn't fought for it!"

I was baffled.

Couture Chronicles was one of the most prestigious magazine publishers in the industry. I'd secretly called in favors with the owner just to secure a dedicated feature for the company, and how had that suddenly turned into Ansel's accomplishment?

"I worked hard and begged just to secure that Couture Chronicles interview. What does that have to do with Ansel?" I solemnly shot back.

She shot me a look of contempt and scorn. "It was Ansel who visited their office nearly a dozen times and begged before he finally landed the interview and photoshoot. He's far more useful than you'll ever be, while you're just a loser. Do you even get that?"

Ansel put on his best humble act. "I just wanted to ease your burden. It hurts me to see you frown and stress over it for days."

Watching them flirt like I didn't exist made my stomach churn, so I stepped aside and announced, "Jenna, I want a divorce."

There was no point in continuing this marriage anyway.

Jenna immediately agreed. "I'm fine with a divorce, but you're leaving with nothing, Elton."

I tensed slightly. "I spent years building Zest Summer Group with you, Jenna, and now you're telling me to walk away with nothing?"

So, that was it. She was going to toss me aside after I was no longer useful.

Her expression remained cold as she snorted and replied, "Incompetence is something you can't deny, and I've made the biggest compromise by letting you walk away with nothing. Just get the hell out if you don't like it."

With that, she wrapped her arms around Ansel's neck and eagerly pulled him toward the bedroom.

I turned and walked out without looking back. After booking a presidential suite at a hotel, I made two calls.

"Mitch, I'm pulling out of that 50-million-dollar order.

"Mom, hold on to that 300-million-dollar wedding gift you prepared for my wife."