Arthur Rockefeller Strikes Back After Divorce の小説・ストーリー

Once upon a time, Leonard truly loved me. In order to establish a Mate Bond with me, he confessed 99 times. On the 99th time, I was finally moved. On the day of our Marking Ceremony, I gave him 99 forgiveness coupons. I promised him that I would forgive him 99 times. As long as he still had coupons left over, I would forgive him and stay with him no matter what he did. We were bonded for six years. In the first five years of our Mate Bond, I rarely ever used the forgiveness coupons. Since his childhood friend Judy returned, however, I started burning through the coupons. When I tore up the 98th coupon, Leonard noticed that I had changed. I no longer made a fuss or fought him over Judy. I simply asked him calmly, “If you go to Judy, can I use up one forgiveness coupon?” Leonard paused and then recovered his cool. “Sure. I only used up slightly over half, so use another if you want.” I stayed silent as he left the house. As it turned out, he had no idea he had just lost his 98th coupon. He only had one chance left. After that, I would leave him forever.

At the birthday banquet of the old Godfather, Salvatore Moretti, the estate was bustling with high-profile guests. Don Marco Moretti arrived late, bringing along his new secretary, Sophie. "Elena, move to the opposite side. It's Sophie's first time at an event like this, and she’s used to sitting next to me." I didn't hesitate for a single second. Picking up my wine glass, I walked straight over and sat down beside Salvatore, whose face was completely grim. Marco raised an eyebrow, seemingly caught off guard by how compliant I was. He then guided a visibly nervous Sophie into the seat that had just been mine. Soon after, my phone buzzed in my hand. 【Are you making a scene again? How many times do I have to tell you? I just brought the girl out to show her the world. Stop throwing these pathetic, jealous tantrums.】 【I’ll fly you to Paris next week to pick out your wedding dress. Stop giving me the cold shoulder, alright?】 I let out a soft laugh. Seeing the smile on my face from across the table, Marco smiled back, thinking he had smoothed things over. What he didn't know—What I was actually laughing at was the fact that we wouldn't be going to Paris at all. Exactly ten minutes before he walked through the door, I had already finalized the dissolution of our engagement with Salvatore. A notification from the airline popped up on my screen: Flight departing in three hours. Marco, after tonight, you and I are completely finished.

We’d been together for seven years, but during that entire time, my fiancée rejected the idea of getting married ninety-nine times, all because of a male intern. The first time, she canceled our vacation at the last minute, saying the intern was stuck on a night shift and afraid of the dark. She got on a flight that very night and rushed back to the hospital. The second time, we were already halfway through the doors of the courthouse to get our marriage registered. But just then, she got word that the intern had collapsed from exhaustion. Without a second thought, she left me standing alone in the snow for the entire day. After that, it became a pattern. Every time we were together, the intern would find some excuse to pull her away. Eventually, I made up my mind to let go. I stopped dreaming about a happy marriage with her. However, just when I announced I was transferring to another city, she broke down, begging me, almost hysterically, not to leave.

For five consecutive years, I secured eighty million in core contracts for the company. Yet my salary remained six thousand. At the annual company gala, I simply told my boss, “I want a raise.” In response, he slapped me across the face three times right in front of the entire company. “Do you think clients come to you? They recognize the company! “Paying you six thousand is already charity, so don’t push your luck!” Everyone in the office watched, laughing at me. I said nothing, only quietly wiping the blood from my lip. The very next day, I took all the client resources and moved to a rival company. Three days later, my former boss broke down over the phone, screaming, “Why?! Why did they all pull out?!”

On my way back from a business trip, I scrolled past a video. A newborn was abandoned by the roadside, crying so hard. As a first time dad, I couldn’t help looking at the baby a little longer. I froze because that baby looked exactly like my son. I had booked the best confinement center in the city for my wife. I had checked them into a VIP suite. I had employed a nanny and a nursing team to look after my wife and my son full-time. I broke out in a cold sweat. My wife didn’t check her phone, so I immediately called the center's manager, Ms. Thompson. She laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, Mr. Smith. Your wife and baby are perfectly fine. They just fell asleep.” The next second, she sent me a photo of my sleeping baby. I stared at the tiny, unfamiliar face. In that instant, the blood in my body turned to ice. I was only gone for four days. So how was my son a different person?

A 19-year-old girl, Wendy Young, invites a 20-year-old-homeless man, Lucas Kim, into her life. Spending all their time with each other, Wendy couldn’t help but fall in love with him, but with everything going down, will it all go well?

“Honey, let’s make a baby together so that you won’t leave me.” I resisted, but my husband ignored it and forced himself onto me. After that, I did it with him 520 times, each time a nightmare for me. Even when he was on business trips, he had to monitor my every move via video, terrified that I would run away. However, one day, I received an invitation to an art exhibition. The intimate gestures between my husband and me had been turned into works of art, filling the entire gallery. My husband held a young female intern by the waist, his gaze sweeping over me with indifference. “Two years ago, you insisted on going against Tiara over an art collectible and suppressed her during the auction, spending lavishly just to humiliate her.” “Now there are 520 art pieces here, an exhibition showcasing your disgrace. If you don’t want them falling into someone else’s hands, you’ll need to bid on them one by one.”

A year after my divorce, my ex-husband, Harvey Fisher, pings me in a group chat. "This cold war has gone on for long enough. Come home—let's remarry." I reply, "Have you lost your mind?" Everyone in the group chat tries to convince me to take Harvey back. Meanwhile, he asks, "What have you been doing without me in your life?" I turn to look at my current husband, who's putting our child to sleep. I reply, "Recovering after having a child." The group chat members are initially excited, but they instantly fall silent at my words. Harvey angrily calls me countless times, but I ignore him. His mind is not the only thing he's lost—he's also lost the young woman who once loved him more than life itself.

I'm having a mental breakdown as I face a clogged drain with my feverish and fussing daughter in my arms. Meanwhile, my husband has reserved a hotel to celebrate another woman's birthday. My mother-in-law spits on the floor. "This is what you deserve. You can't even capture a man's heart!" I clench a fist around the winning lottery ticket in my pocket. I want to get a divorce.

During the holiday break, my wife, Jayda Glover—the hospital's star surgeon and Chief of Cardiac Surgery—suddenly "had to work overtime." Our third-anniversary hot springs trip? Canceled. That night, I was scrolling social media when a post from her intern, Dillon Tripp, popped up. My ice-queen wife always said her "golden hands" were only for patients. Apparently, they cook now too. She was in a cartoon apron, calmly chopping vegetables. The caption read: [Thank you, Dr. Glover, for personally cooking to comfort me after I was bullied by a patient's family!] I tapped like and left a comment. [White coat to apron. Very domestic.] Ten minutes later, the whole hospital knew Cardiac Surgery's untouchable beauty had broken her rule—just to cook for a younger guy. Jayda called. Dishes clattered in the background. "You really had to embarrass me in public? He got hot water thrown on him by a patient's family today. I was just doing my duty as his mentor! "A pampered professor's kid like you wouldn't know the first thing about how hard broke med students have it. "Apologize to Dillon right now. Otherwise, no matter how much you beg later, I'm not going on that trip with you!" Beg her? I looked at the divorce papers that had just arrived on the coffee table and let out a quiet laugh. I wasn't begging anymore. From this moment on, we were strangers.