Rejected, Not Broken

It was the one night in a month that Timothy Grant and I could be intimate.

I accidentally let out a soft gasp, and all desire faded from his cold eyes. He said, "Josie, you broke the rules."

He quickly pulled away, threw on a bathrobe, and headed to the bathroom. Left alone on the bed, I closed my eyes in shame and embarrassment.

Everything had changed three years ago, after our first child passed away. Back then, under the pretext of laying her soul to rest, Timothy had built a private chapel in our villa, where incense would burn year-round as he prayed to the heavens.

He said those who were religious had to avoid indulgence, and he limited our intimacy to once a month at most. That wasn't all, though. I wasn't allowed to make any indecent sounds during our time together, lest it offend the sacred.

Even though I was only 25 and had needs, I could only comply with his rules.

…

Timothy left the house in the middle of the night.

Not long after, I got a call from my best friend, Ruby Slater. She sounded frantic on the other end of the line. "Josie, check the trending searches! Why does the sugar daddy exposed with Yasmin Beech look so much like Timothy?"

My mind went blank the moment I checked the trending topics. It felt like something had exploded within me.

"Breaking News! Rising Star Yasmin Beech Suspected of Having a Sugar Daddy to Help Her Climb the Ranks! Identity of Backer Still Unconfirmed! Stay Tuned!"

The photo only showed a blurry figure from behind, but how could I not recognize my own husband? His right hand, which was always adorned with a rosary, was wrapped around Yasmin's slender waist as they entered a hotel together.

Just then, I received two anonymous emails. A flood of high-definition photos filled my phone screen. The first showed Timothy on one knee, holding a delicate young girl in a puffy dress in his arms. He allowed her to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.

The second showed Yasmin reaching out to brush dust off Timothy's shoulder. Instead of coldly pushing her away like he did with me, he indulged her with a slight, permissive smile.

The dozens of photos finally made it clear that his growing devotion to his religion over the past three years wasn't the reason for his increasing distance from me.

It was because he was cheating.

My nails dug into my palms as I took deep breaths, forcing myself to stay calm as I opened the second email. It was a single line of text.

"Mrs. Grant, do you want to expose this, or will you buy the photos out for ten million dollars?"

"I'll buy them out."

I sent the reply, then used every penny in my bank account to buy the photos that could ruin Timothy and Yasmin. The ironic thing was that the money came from the wedding gifts Timothy had given me when we got married.

Now, it was being used to buy evidence of his betrayal.

I kept staring at the young girl in the photos. If our child hadn't died, she'd be about the same age as this girl. Unfortunately, I never even got to see her face before she was turned into a handful of ashes in a tiny urn.

Back then, while I drowned in my grief, all Timothy said was a flippant, "We'll always have more children."

Now, I knew that we never would.

After securing the photos, I called Ruby. "Do you know any lawyers? I want to get a divorce."

Since Timothy was tainted, I no longer wanted him.

Ruby got back to me after asking around. The lawyer drafted a divorce agreement, but since we didn't know the full extent of Timothy's assets, the property division couldn't be finalized.

I said, "Just send me the divorce agreement for now. I'll negotiate the property division with him later."

After all, those photos had only cost me ten million dollars. The reputation of Grant Corporation's CEO was worth far more than that. As long as I held evidence of Timothy's infidelity, I didn't need to worry about the property division not going my way.

I printed the divorce agreement and placed it on the coffee table. Then, I dialed Timothy's number. The call was soon picked up.

"Is something wrong, Ms. York? Tim is busy comforting our daughter."

The sweet, syrupy voice sounded polite, but it pierced my ears like an iron spike. It seemed that Yasmin was aware of my existence.

I had wondered if Timothy had deceived her by pretending to be single, but it turned out she was willingly playing the mistress!

I had no interest in wasting my time and breath on someone like her. So, I said icily, "Put Timothy on the line."

"I'm sorry, but our daughter is clinging to him, and he's tied up right now. You can tell me whatever it is you need to say, and I'll pass along the message." Her tone was still soft and gentle.

Right after she spoke, I heard a young girl's voice ring out. "Daddy, will I still see you tomorrow morning? You always disappear for no reason."

Timothy tenderly reassured her. "Of course. I promise I'll still be here in the morning."

My heart clenched. How long had it been since I'd heard him speak to me with such warmth?

"Ms. York, is there anything else? We need to go to bed soon." Yasmin's seemingly polite words were laced with venom.

I said, "Yes, there is. Tell him to come back and sign a divorce agreement!"