Chapter 3

After leaving Leo’s place, I returned home feeling hollow.

Naturally, I hadn't bought the croissants Scarlett wanted.

For that, she threw a massive tantrum, then stormed into the bedroom, got dressed up, and clacked out the door on high heels, hips swaying.

My in-laws once again played the peacemakers, urging me to be more understanding and forgiving.

They also said, "That's just Scarlett's temper; they've always indulged her, and I just needed to put up with it."

I’d heard that countless times, almost brainwashing myself.

I didn’t reply. I handed the two kids to them and retreated to my study.

I pulled a few strings and looked up the owners of Rolls-Royce Cullinans in our area.

And there it was, a name that wasn't entirely unfamiliar to me: Tyler. Scarlett’s distant cousin.

Tyler had struck it rich last year, and ever since, he'd shown up every now and then, always arriving smug and leaving even smugger.

My in-laws also treated him with extra care.

*Had I let the fox into the hen house?*

Most importantly, I knew that Tyler and Scarlett weren't actually blood-related; he was adopted.

The thought that that lowlife might be the bastard cuckolding me sent a furious rage boiling inside me. My hand clenched around the mouse, almost crushing it before I slammed it down.

The shattered mouse was a perfect symbol of our broken relationship.

Kindness is often mistaken for weakness.

Then I remembered Scarlett’s recent constant nagging:

“Let’s find a way to get a sham divorce. You transfer the house to my name, and then in half a year, we can remarry, and you can put your name back on it.”

“That way I can feel more secure. After all, I’ve given you two children; even if it’s not credit, it’s hard work. I should have something in my name to feel at ease.”

“You act like you love me so much every day, but you won’t even give me a bit of your pre-marital property?”

These words echoed in my mind, a barrage of endless mockery, slamming into me, one after another.

This wasn't her being娇羞; this was pure calculation.

She was meticulously plotting to seize everything I’d worked for.

Not to mention the smug look she had when she left, wasn't that just trampling all over my dignity?

I hid in the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I finally couldn't hold it in and turned on the faucet, then burst into tears.

My gaze shifted, and I saw a pregnancy test stick showing two lines vaguely visible in the trash can. I felt a wave of nausea, dry heaving.

One truth after another confirmed, and I felt a profound sense of disgust.

That night, Scarlett sent me a text, saying she was meeting her friends, then directly turned off her phone.

And I stayed in my study all night. The computer screen never went dark, and my keyboard never stopped clacking.

If she didn’t cherish my love, then she would lose everything…