Chapter 3

Ignoring me, he rushed to the bathroom.

Soon after, an ambulance pulled up to City Hall.

My ex-husband, pale-faced, was carried away on a stretcher.

He was always robust, capable of juggling two mistresses, a wife, and non-stop work with ease.

Now, he was frothing at the mouth and collapsing in a bathroom.

Under the bright sun, I finally laughed out loud.

I used my remaining savings to rent a tiny, dilapidated apartment and sent out countless resumes.

Unfortunately, I'd been out of the workforce for too long. Even with a good degree and experience at a major company, finding a suitable job was incredibly difficult.

A month later, I received my first interview call.

When Chloe, the HR person, scheduled the interview, she suggested I start as an assistant, with a relatively low salary.

I smiled and said, "No problem."

When she saw the 'Family' section on my resume, her expression changed slightly. She looked at me with a complex mix of pity and guilt.

She poured me a cup of coffee and asked me to wait in her office.

When she returned, she told me, "You're hired. Your salary will be ten thousand before tax."

On my first day, I saw my ex-husband in the Vice President's office.

He had always hidden his true salary and never told me where he worked. I never expected it to be here.

Before we married, he was just a regular engineer. Six years later, he'd been promoted to Vice President.

And I, meanwhile, had been trapped in the cage of marriage, becoming a housewife who struggled to even find an entry-level job.

My ex-husband was just recovering from his illness, his face ashen.

The moment he saw me, his first reaction was shock, panic, and disbelief.

He practically accused me with his eyes, cursing me for being an inescapable shadow.

However, before he could think too much, he suddenly bent over, clutched his mouth, and dry-heaved again.

A foul smell filled the office. Chloe covered her nose, stepped back several paces, and said with disgust, "You were in the hospital for half a month, and your stomach issues still aren't resolved?"

I sneered inwardly.

Stomach issues? This was definitely pregnancy.

I remembered my own early pregnancy, with morning sickness every single day.

Julian had used all sorts of sweet talk to convince me to let Richard and Brenda, who lived in the countryside, move in to help take care of me.

Richard was a typical rural man, extremely chauvinistic. He wouldn't even pick up a spoon if it fell.

Brenda's primary task, besides waiting on Richard, was to assign me chores: washing dishes, mopping floors, cooking. Julian would sometimes offer to help, but she'd wave him away. "Men can't do these things!"

After Brenda said that, Julian would genuinely lie on the sofa, playing on his phone with a clear conscience.

I threw up continuously for three months, and even swallowing felt like a painful effort.

At first, Julian would offer a few words of comfort. But later, he complained that my restless turning and tossing at night disturbed his sleep and told me to stop moving so much.

I explained that it was because of nausea and chest tightness that I couldn't sleep.

He dismissed me impatiently. "All pregnant women go through this. My mother worked in the fields right up to her delivery. Why are you so weak? I think you just want to cause problems for my mother."

I wanted to argue, but he turned away, ending the discussion.

You never know pain until you feel the knife yourself.

Now he was trapped in a ten-month pregnancy a hundred times worse than mine had been. I sincerely hoped he would survive it.

After all, what he owed me stretched far beyond a swollen belly.

And I could not wait to see what came next.