Chapter 3

I spent two weeks in the hospital. Isabelle never called once.

On the day I was discharged, my father gave me half his assets.

I had the driver and bodyguards wait downstairs while I went alone to the home Isabelle and I shared.

When I opened the door, Isabelle hastily pulled on her nightgown.

"Honey, wait downstairs for a bit. Now's not convenient."

She blocked the door with her body, refusing to let me in.

A man's voice came from inside the room.

"Babe, where are my pants?"

There's no such thing as regret medicine.

Isabelle awkwardly pushed me into the hallway, her back against the door.

Seeing the cast on my leg, she finally looked a bit guilty and tried to explain. "Honey, I didn't know you were hurt this badly... My coworkers were all in the car at the time... I..."

"I get it. Having a delivery guy for a husband embarrassed you." I cut her off.

Hit with the truth, Isabelle got defensive. "I'm already exhausted from work. Can you not be so sensitive?"

I laughed coldly.

"I come back to my own house to see my legal wife, and I have to avoid another man?"

"I have to wait for him to leave before I can come home?"

A flash of embarrassment crossed Isabelle's face, then she became self-righteous.

"I'm human too. I have needs. You haven't touched me in months-I can't find some way to satisfy myself?"

"You come home like a dead man every day and pass out. Have you ever cared about my emotions, my needs?"

"Derek! You have no right to judge me!"

Watching her so confident and self-righteous, I suddenly felt like a complete joke.

Back when she held me in our tiny rental apartment and said she didn't need wealth, just someone loyal.

For that one promise, I'd tasted every bitter fruit.

She said coworkers mocked her shabby clothes. I worked dawn to dusk to buy her designer clothes, wearing the same pants for three years without replacing them.

When she worked overtime, I'd come home exhausted and still do all the housework, preparing healthy breakfasts before leaving.

After a full day's grind, I barely had energy to speak, let alone for that.

Now, this had become her righteous excuse for cheating.

I asked wearily, "Am I the only one suffering in this marriage?"

Isabelle jabbed her finger at me aggressively, like a ruffled chicken. "What's that supposed to mean? Marrying me wronged you?"

Her movements were too dramatic. Her nightgown belt came loose, revealing the torn, misshapen lingerie underneath.

Her smooth, pale chest and thighs were covered in humiliating words written in lipstick. The hair there was shaved completely clean.

She frantically pulled her robe closed, but I laughed bitterly.

The rose I'd cultivated with blood and tears willingly degraded herself for another man.

I used to have to beg and plead just to try a different position, and even then I had to check Isabelle's mood first.

Now Tristan Harrington said one word and she pulled out all the stops.

In that moment, the last shred of feeling I had for Isabelle vanished.

"Let's divorce."

I coldly tossed out the divorce papers.

"Playing hard to get? You think when I actually sign, you'll cry and beg me to stay?"

"Derek, leave yourself some dignity, okay?"

Isabelle didn't even glance at the papers, mocking me instead.

I was too tired to argue. I held out a pen. "You're right about everything. Sign it."

Her expression shifted. She stared at me silently.

Tristan Harrington came out and, right in front of me, put his arm around Isabelle.

"If you're not capable, don't blame women for being materialistic."

As he spoke, he pointed at the million-dollar luxury car parked downstairs.

"Let me teach you something. Some things-if you're born with them, you have them. If you're born without them, you'll never have a chance in this life. Got it?"

I nodded and sent a message on my phone.

"Don't say things are final. You never know when you might get unlucky."

The moment I finished speaking, several bodyguards rushed over and viciously smashed Tristan Harrington's luxury car.

"See? You just got unlucky." I smiled.

Tristan Harrington's face turned green with distress. He rushed downstairs without even putting on pants.

"I drank too much this time. It was an accident. Everyone makes mistakes, right? Once you calm down, we can talk." Isabelle pressed her forehead, waving me off dismissively.

I laughed coldly and pulled out that day's delivery order. "Six condoms. Hope they didn't wear you out too much?"

Isabelle's face changed dramatically. After a stunned moment, she glared at me furiously instead.

"Derek! You're disgusting! You followed me!"

I laughed-laughed at Isabelle's invincible logic.

She cheated first, but could still righteously accuse me.

I lit a cigarette, smoke blurring my vision. "Just sign."

Isabelle realized I was determined and finally dropped the act.

"Fine. We can divorce. But I get the house. Plus you give me another hundred thousand for my wasted youth."

Without the filter of love, I realized how little I knew the woman I'd married nearly ten years ago.

I let out a laugh, angry and disbelieving. "The house was mine before we got married. I made the down payment. You've spent every cent you earned on yourself. I've been paying the mortgage alone. You cheated on me, and you still have the nerve to ask for the house and compensation?"

"We're the same age. My time matters just as much as yours."

Isabelle went full-on crazy. "What did I do? I invited my boss home to talk business. What's inappropriate about that?"

I was shocked by her shamelessness.

"What kind of work requires taking off your pants and shaving before you can discuss it?" I stared at her coldly.

Isabelle had never seen me so firm. She was speechless for a long moment.

"Even if I was wrong, it's because you neglected me! At minimum I deserve half!"

"Besides, you don't even have proof!"

I'd originally planned to part with Isabelle amicably, but watching her throw this tantrum, I suddenly felt disgusted.

Nine whole years. In the end, it was my own misplaced devotion.

I'd installed smart security cameras in the house a month ago. All their acrobatics were pushed to my phone in real time.

I'd wanted to give us both a dignified ending, but she was forcing me to be undignified.

Watching me take the camera off the refrigerator, Isabelle froze in place.

She never cared about household matters and didn't even know about the camera installation.

Faced with iron evidence, Isabelle changed tactics in a second, playing the emotional card.

"Derek, I gave you the best years of my life. You promised you wouldn't let me live a hard life."

"I'm a woman struggling in society. It's not easy. You're still so young-you can buy another house after giving me this one."

I lost all interest in arguing with her.

"Take the house. We're done here."

This property meant nothing to me now. Pocket change. I wasn't about to keep fighting Isabelle over something so small.

Before, no matter how hard things got, just seeing her could reignite my fire. But now? She just disgusted me.

Seeing how easily I gave in, Isabelle leaned against the doorframe, smug.

"I'm not worse than anyone else. You didn't really expect me to live a hard life with you forever, did you?"

"You're poor. You're useless. You got to have someone like me for years. You should consider yourself lucky."

I looked at Isabelle, the woman I'd been with for so long, and suddenly she felt like a stranger.

When did the girl who needed me to hold her just to fall asleep turn into this?

I clutched the divorce papers and walked down the stairs. I didn't look back.