My Wife's Affair, My Daughter's Betrayal

Steam was still rising from the cheese fondue, yet I felt cold to the bone as I looked at my daughter, Giselle Moore. She was dressed in the immaculate uniform of an elite private school, complete with a neat little bow tie and polished black leather shoes. She was the spitting image of a future elite.

Gulping down the bitterness in my heart, I asked calmly, "Giselle, your mother is the CEO of a publicly listed company that's worth billions of dollars. Why did you think I should only get a million dollars?"

Giselle crinkled her nose and answered, "Because you don't go to work like Cal does, Daddy. I asked one of the security guards, and he only makes ten grand a month. I'm already giving you extra just because you're my dad."

She had already given me extra. I repeated those words in my head.

In her eyes, a million dollars was enough to pay off the 20 years I had devoted to this family.

It was enough to erase the car accident that had left my leg held together by 20 steel screws after I shielded her from harm.

It was enough to wipe away the promising career I had willingly given up so I could stay by her side and nurse her through myocarditis.

I looked out the window at my wife, Cora Moore, who was waiting impatiently inside her luxury car. Holding onto a sliver of hope, I asked Giselle, "Was it your idea to bring me the divorce agreement, or did your mother ask you to?"

Giselle pulled a face, looking thoroughly annoyed. "Of course it was my idea! Mommy said she fell out of love with you ages ago. Besides, when you went to the company to see her yesterday, you upset Cal so much that he gave Mommy and me the silent treatment all night."

My mind drifted back to the day before.

For the sixth time, I had failed to gain custody. Cora had blocked my number everywhere. I had no choice but to go to her company to talk to her in person.

The young receptionist took one look at me and scoffed. "The building's waste is collected by the property management. We don't allow people to come here and collect recyclables."

I lowered my head to inspect myself.

I was haggard, beat-down, and running on empty. Wearing a faded, washed-out T-shirt, baggy sweatpants, and a pair of outdated sneakers, I stuck out like a sore thumb among the polished professionals bustling past.

Another employee chimed in with a sneer. "Nora, don't you know? This is our boss's deadbeat husband—or should I say, ex-husband."

She giggled. "It's only a matter of time before the two of them get divorced. He's just trying to extort more money from her."

I could no longer suppress my anger. I was about to give them a piece of my mind when the revolving door spun open. Callum Scott sauntered in, decked out in custom Gucci.

The receptionist greeted him respectfully. "Good afternoon, Mr. Scott."

Having been alerted of his return, Cora had rushed down to welcome him. Her cheeks flushed as she threw herself into his arms.

"My business trip abroad was absolutely grueling, darling," Callum grumbled.

After hearing that, Cora pulled a cute mini robot out of her pocket.

The little robot automatically plucked a rose from the front desk and offered it to Callum. "My name's Coral, Prince Callum. My mistress named me by combining both your names. This rose is for you. Will you forgive her for not being able to accompany you on your business trip?"

Callum was amused. He was about to accept it when he spotted me out of the corner of his eye, standing in the shadows. His expression immediately darkened, and he flung Cora's hand away.

"Ms. Moore, you should clean up your personal baggage before you come and bother me. I'm the vice president of a publicly listed company. I'm nothing like that good-for-nothing freeloader in your family who lives off you!"

Cora smiled indulgently. However, when her gaze landed on me, it was filled with nothing but disgust and indifference. "What are you doing here? Haven't you embarrassed yourself enough?"

A sharp pang pierced my heart. I rasped, "I'm here to talk to you about Giselle—"

"You can take that up with my lawyer. I don't have time to waste on you," she cut me off before shooting a look at the security guards.

The well-trained guards tackled me to the ground. My nose smashed against the ground, and blood smeared across the marble tiles.

My head was spinning, but I still heard her scoff. "Don't fool yourself into thinking you're still my husband just because you refuse to sign the divorce agreement. In my heart, Callum's my real partner."