The wife he broke, became the heiress he needed

This was supposed to be a night of celebration, the grand banquet hosted by our company's biggest client.

However, for me, it was the seventh day after surgery for my ectopic pregnancy.

Janet Porter, Walter Jones's childhood friend, flung the cake at the company's client, covering his clothes in frosting.

Walter's first move? He checked on Janet, of all people, as if she were the one who had taken the hit.

Then, his eyes found mine.

"Melissa, go and apologize to Mr. Coleman."

I stared at him, dumbfounded.

The client's representative was scraping off the frosting, his expression twisting into a scowl.

"Great, so your company is into passing the buck! The one who owes an apology is playing hide-and-seek."

Janet's eyes were brimming with tears, yet she clung to Walter like a damsel in distress.

Walter wrapped his arms around her, his gaze on me then icy and commanding.

"What are you waiting for? Apologize, now!

"Make a toast to Mr. Coleman, for starters. We can't afford to mess up this deal!"

He had forgotten—or did not care—that I was still recovering. Alcohol was the last thing I needed.

Janet's smug gaze was on me, her eyes challenging.

She had seen that coming. She knew Walter would have her back, no matter what.

I did not want to take the fall for her blunder, but then Walter leaned in, his breath on my ear.

"One forgiveness card."

He had gone all out with 66 romantic trips to win me over, each one a testament to his devotion.

On the 67th, with our loved ones as witnesses, I had said yes to his proposal.

That was why he made me a vow. "Melissa, you're the one I love most in the whole world! If I ever betray you, let lightning strike me down..."

Before he could finish, my hand flew to his mouth, silencing him.

Seeing him on his knees, swearing his love, my heart skipped a beat.

To match his 66 proposals, I had a friend whip up 66 'forgiveness cards'.

I warned him, "If you actually run through all these cards, I'm out of here!"

Five years into our marriage, Walter locked those cards away like they were made of gold, scared I would cash one in on a whim.

However, his childhood sweetheart came back from abroad. Just like that, in one year, he burned through sixty-three.

At this moment, he was on number 64.

I stood there, bent over, shaking slightly, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in my belly as I faced the client.

"Mr. Coleman, I'm really sorry about all this."

He just gave me a look, shook his head with a sigh, and did not lay into me.

Bowing, I saw Walter tenderly fixing Janet's hair.

"Watch where you're going next time, or you might hurt yourself on something!"

"Yeah, yeah, you haven't changed a bit."

'Have not changed'?

The pain in my stomach was spreading, turning my face ashen.

Just hold on a little longer.

He was on his last two strikes!

After the party, I trailed behind Walter, eager to get home.

However, there he was, with Janet, looking like they were made for each other.

Walter turned his face to an icy mask and said, "You head home. Janet twisted her ankle, and I need to take care of her first."

He entirely forgot that I was still hurting, his gaze on Janet was all worry and care.

In the old days, I would have made a point of saying I was hurting too and insisted he take me along to the hospital. I would have been in tears, asking him why I was the one saying sorry when I had not even messed up.

However, this time, I just gave a small nod.

"Alright."

Walter let out a sigh, his face a mix of emotions.

"Melissa, take care of yourself, okay?"