Chapter 5

Asher's stomach let out an ill-timed growl.

He patted down every pocket on his clothes, coming up with nothing more than two crumpled 20-dollar bills and a few loose coins.

43 dollars and 50 cents. That was his entire net worth now.

With a bitter laugh, he shoved the cash into his pocket and headed downstairs.

At the base of the old apartment building sat a convenience store that had been open for over a decade. Dim yellow light spilled from inside, the shelves packed with snacks and daily necessities, filled with the warmth and bustle of everyday life.

The owner, Lisa Jenkins, was sitting near the doorway, cracking sunflower seeds. The moment she saw Asher walk in, her face lit up with a surprised smile.

"Well, look who's back! Asher?"

Lisa was in her early thirties and had led a tough life. Her husband passed away early, leaving her to raise their seven-year-old daughter on her own.

Money was always tight, but she had a warmth about her that never seemed to fade.

"Hey, Lisa." Asher nodded, his voice slightly raspy.

"You're a rare sight! A busy guy like you hasn't shown his face around here in two or three years." Lisa looked him up and down, her keen eyes quickly catching the exhaustion on his face and the faint bruise near the corner of his mouth.

Her smile faded slightly. "Did... you get into a fight with your wife?"

Asher didn't explain, merely chuckling. "Just get me a pasta and a hot dog, please."

"That's all you're eating?" Lisa frowned. "You haven't had dinner yet, have you? I just made some beef patties. Why don't you come over to my place and get a real meal? It's just me and my daughter. Don't be shy."

"Thanks, Lisa. I just want a quick bite." Asher shook his head, placing the money on the counter.

Lisa didn't insist. She efficiently grabbed the orders for him, then filled his cup with boiling water from the large dispenser. Instead of taking the money, she shoved a boiled egg into his palm.

"Take it! It's on the house," she said sincerely. "You stole plenty of eggs from my shop when you were a kid, so don't go acting like a stranger now that you're grown up."

Asher squeezed the warm egg, his nose tingling with a swell of emotion. Back inside the old apartment, he rested for a while and then started to cook dinner.

A cheap yet rich savory steam surged upward, instantly filling the empty room with its comforting heat. Compared to the lavish, painstakingly cooked feast from last night that no one had cared to touch, this cheap food gave him an appetite he hadn't felt in a long time.

He took a massive bite, the scalding broth sliding down his throat. It burned so hot that tears nearly welled up in his eyes, but it felt immensely satisfying.

He had bought this with his own money. Every bite tasted like sweet freedom.

After finishing the last drop of broth, he set down the plate and pulled out his phone to open a few job-hunting apps. He was genuinely broke now; if he didn't secure work fast, he wouldn't even be able to afford the meals in a couple of days.

From noon straight into the evening, he refreshed job boards non-stop.

[Mr. Deleon, your degree from a top university is impressive, but a five-year gap? Sorry, we don't hire people who have been out of the industry for so long.]

[Apologies, we're looking for plug-and-play talent, not newbies who need to be retrained from scratch.]

[At 27, you haven't reached management? Plus, five years of unemployment? I can't even submit this resume.]

...

Rejection notifications popped up one after another, landing like stinging slaps across his face.

Five years—over 1,800 days and nights—and he had turned himself into a joke. To preserve Katherine's so-called high-society dignity, he had turned down countless calls from headhunters and deliberately erased his presence.

This was what being a stay-at-home husband had gotten him. With a self-deprecating smile, he turned off his phone. The faint blue light died out, and darkness swallowed the room.

Anxiety coiled around his chest like a cold snake. He had only 40-some dollars left, meaning if he didn't find work soon, he'd be flat broke and starving.

"It's fine," he told himself, lying on the hard, musty mattress with his hands tucked behind his head. He stared at the cracked ceiling and murmured, "At least, I don't have to walk on eggshells around her anymore."

...

The Pinnacle Estates, Grimildale.

At eight o'clock in the morning, sunlight pierced through the slit in the heavy curtains, yet failed to dispel the dark gloom in Katherine's heart.

Out of habit, she reached out a hand, groggily demanding, "Water."

But the glass of water, always kept at the right temperature with its handle angled perfectly toward her, didn't appear as expected.

The air was eerily quiet.

She opened her eyes with a scowl, her hangover headache pounding violently against her temples. Sitting up, she looked over at the empty nightstand in frustration.

No one was there.

"Asher?" She raised her voice, her tone dripping with its usual imperious command. "Where are you? Get me some water!"

The only answer was the faint hum of the central air conditioner. She froze before memories came flooding back like a tidal wave.

Asher had walked out yesterday, called her a cheating wife, and even slapped her across the face. She had been so furious she drank the night away, and her head was still spinning now.

"Still hasn't come back?" she sneered, throwing off the duvet to get out of bed. "I really gave you way too much leeway."

Barefoot, she walked out of the bedroom, her throat burning with thirst.

The sprawling mansion felt like a massive icebox. There was no aroma of fresh breakfast, no warm towel waiting, and no submissive husband who always seemed to know exactly what she needed before she even asked.

When she stepped into the kitchen, the imported Italian espresso machine, which Asher kept wiped down to a mirror shine, stood silently like a cold chunk of steel.

She had only ever drunk the coffee he made; she had never operated on it herself.

Irritated, she grabbed a handful of coffee beans, dumped them messily into the hopper, and randomly jabbed at the complicated control panel.

A burst of scalding steam suddenly shot out, blasting directly onto the back of her hand. She shrieked in pain, yanking her hand back as her skin turned instantly bright red.

"Piece of garbage!" In a fit of rage, she kicked the cabinet door, only to end up clutching her stubbed toe and hopping around in agony.

"Damn it!" she cursed. "How has Asher always handled these stupid appliances so effortlessly before?"

Suppressing her fury, she turned around and went to her walk-in closet. She had an important board meeting today and needed to wear her custom black suit from Paris Fashion Week.

It was her battle armor. Yet now she just stood there, dumbfounded, as she pushed open the doors. The clothes were hung everywhere in meticulous rows, but she couldn't find the suit at all.

In the past, no matter what event she was attending, Asher would always iron her coordinated outfit, arrange her shoes, and pick the right jewelry for her the night before, hanging them in the most prominent spot.

Now she was like a headless chicken trapped in a maze. After 20 minutes of frantic searching, she had ripped down rows of expensive designer clothes, scattering them across the floor like high-end trash.

"Asher!" She finally blew her top. Snatching her phone, she dialed the number she knew by heart.

"Sorry, the person you have dialed is currently turned off..."

The cold, automated voice lit the powder keg.

"Fine!" Katherine spat, slamming her phone onto the sofa. Her chest heaved violently, and her face frosted over with rage. "You want to play games? Go missing on me?"

Even at this point, she didn't view his departure as genuine; she just saw it as petty revenge. It was that loser's pathetic way to force her to back down.

"You think this will make me beg you to come back?" She scoffed into the empty room. "In your dreams!"

She picked her phone back up and dialed her assistant, Jessica Bush.

"Pull up every account and payment account we have on file for Asher," she ordered, her voice cold as ice. "Besides the credit cards, bank accounts, and family allowance I froze yesterday, what else did we miss?"

On the other end of the line, Jessica froze, clearly unprepared for her boss's explosive morning temper, before her keyboard started clattering frantically.

"He still has a company fuel card with about two thousand dollars left on it. He used it when he drove you around."

"Cancel it!"

"Huh? But that's a registered store-value card..."

"I said freeze it! Are you deaf? I don't care how you do it. Make sure he doesn't even have the bus fare left. I want him to realize that without me, he's lower than a beggar!"

Hanging up the phone, Katherine felt some of the suffocating rage in her chest ease.

Just then, the front doorbell rang.