“What more do you want from me?!” Ava shouted, her voice trembling with hysteria.
“I sent the dog away. I fed the baby myself. I cooked your favorite dishes. I’ve begged and pleaded—what else do you want?! Do you want me to die in front of you?!”
Her emotions surged uncontrollably, and the partially open collar of her blouse exposed a glaring ambiguous red mark.
I stopped in my tracks, eyes coldly fixed on the mark on her chest.
“I’ve said it clearly,” I said, voice devoid of warmth. “I want you to walk away with nothing.”
Just then, our daughter in her arms suddenly began coughing violently, her limbs flailing.
She was clearly choking on milk.
“Ah! Zoe!” Ava panicked, her face turning pale as she looked to me for help.
“Liam! Call an ambulance! Please, save our daughter!”
I stood still, unmoved.
“Stop being so irrationally jealous!” Ava screamed, sobbing as she tried to thrust the choking baby into my arms.
“Zoe is dying! I’m begging you—please stop this madness!”
Our baby’s face was turning purple, her breath becoming shallow.
But I stepped back, deliberately avoiding Ava’s outstretched hands.
“Whether you live or die, what’s it got to do with me?”
Because of my retreat, the baby slipped from Ava’s arms.
Thud!
The sound of her tiny body hitting the floor was gut-wrenching.
“Ahhh!” Ava collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably.
“You animal! She’s your own daughter! How can you just stand there?! What kind of monster are you?!”
Out of nowhere, Samuel burst through the door, rage burning in his eyes.
Without a word, he landed a punch squarely on my jaw.
As he cradled Zoe tightly in his arms, he fumbled for his phone and dialed emergency services, his voice cracking as he shouted, “My sister gave up everything to marry you. She fought against our whole family, suffered so much—and now you won’t even save your own daughter?! You’re a damn wolf in human skin!”
He knew all too well that I’d always been grateful for Ava marrying beneath her status to be with me.
Normally, that one reminder would make me back down—no matter how bitter things got.
But not this time.
Wiping the blood from my mouth, I stared him down coldly and said, “I wish I’d never married her. I wish that child had been stillborn.”
My words broke Ava completely.
The light in her eyes died out, replaced only by a hollow void of hatred and despair.
“Fine,” she said hoarsely, her voice brittle, “Fine, Liam. Divorce it is.”
She looked at her barely breathing daughter and choked out, “I’ll make sure you leave with nothing. And every cent the Powell family ever gave you—every penny—you’ll pay it all back with interest.”
I sneered. “Sure. And I’ll be asserting my rights too. Not only will I have you leave with nothing—I want compensation for emotional damages.”
“One hundred million.”
With that, I turned and walked out.
...
While we waited for the court date, Samuel launched a social media campaign.
Using a dog lover’s account, he painted a picture of me as the ultimate villain.
Soon, my name was everywhere—tagged in scandals, cursed in comment sections.
The public outcry exploded.
[Modern-day Judas. Without the Powell family, he’d still be harvesting wheat in the mountains!]
[It’s just a dog! She didn’t even cheat on him! He wants a divorce over that? Gold-digger much?]
[Jealous of a dog, hates his brother-in-law, watches his own daughter nearly die—he’s worse than scum.]
My personal info was doxxed, my face was plastered across hate posts.
It didn’t stop there. Some enraged netizens even took justice into their own hands.
My Audi—the one I’d bought with my own money—was smashed to pieces.
Spray-painted across the shattered car was one word, in blood-red letters:
SCUMBAG
When Daphne finally found me, I was leaning quietly against a utility pole, expression blank as I watched the mob destroy my car.
“Liam, how much longer are you going to let this go on?!”
She was nearly in tears, stomping her foot in frustration.
“The public is completely against you,” Daphne warned, her voice low and urgent. “At this rate, you’ll be socially dead before the trial even begins. It’s time to tell the truth—”
“No rush,” I interrupted her calmly.
“Very soon, I’ll expose her filthy secret and nail her to the pillar of shame for good. There’ll be no coming back from it.”
...
The court day arrived swiftly.
The courtroom was packed—Ava’s relatives, friends, and even curious onlookers filled every seat.
Ava sat in the defendant’s chair, her face was pale as a ghost, cradling our daughter, who was hooked up to an oxygen tube.
Her brother Samuel and their father sat stern-faced in the front row of the gallery, flanked by an imposing legal team.
On my side, there was only Daphne and a few of her journalist colleagues, cameras rolling, ready to livestream everything.
Before the trial began, Ava turned to me with pleading eyes.
“Liam, we’ve been husband and wife for years. I truly don’t want to see you continue down this road. There’s still time—turn back before it’s too late.”
Ronald let out a disdainful snort.
“Drop the case now. Apologize on your knees to my daughter and son. Swear never to interfere with her keeping the dog again, and maybe I’ll show you some mercy.”
I gave a cold smile. “Your Honor, let’s begin.”
In court, the Powell family’s lawyers unleashed a storm of accusations—that I was ungrateful, filing for divorce over trivial matters, indifferent to my daughter’s life, and demanding an outrageous compensation.
The judge furrowed his brow as he flipped through the case files.
“Plaintiff Liam Scott,” he said sternly, “your claim to divorce over a pet is legally insufficient. Additionally, it is well-documented that you received substantial financial support from the defendant’s family. This court is inclined to rule that the fault lies entirely with you.”
“The court hereby finds—”
“Your Honor!” I stood up suddenly, voice was firm. “I have ample evidence to prove that my divorce request—and the compensation demand—are entirely justified.”
Finally, the moment of truth.
