I didn't just lack ownership—every time I wore those pieces, I had to pay a hefty rental fee.
The so-called luxury mansion and cars? Only the down payments had been covered. The massive loans that remained were mine to pay off.
On top of that, the prenuptial agreement spelled it out clearly.
As Prudence Delgado's husband, I was obligated to maintain the image of the Delgado family and their company.
I had to accompany Prudence to all kinds of events, serve as an unpaid spokesperson for their products.
I had to buy designer jewelry out of my own pocket just to keep up appearances.
The packed schedule and endless social obligations ate up every moment I had.
My career—once at its peak—collapsed.
And my savings, already running thin, were bled dry.
It wasn't like I'd never complained to Prudence about it.
But every time, she'd just hold me and say:
"Solomon, I don't want this either."
"But the Delgado empire is too big. I can't override the Board's decisions."
"Just bear with it a little longer. Once I've taken over everything, I'll make it up to you for all your hard work!"
So I endured. For three years.
Three years of pouring out my heart, giving everything I had.
And what did I get in return? My family destroyed. My reputation in ruins.
And thanks to Prudence's scheming, an astronomical breach-of-contract penalty hanging over my head.
All that so-called love. All that so-called sincerity.
From the very beginning, it had been nothing but a calculated scheme to suck me dry.
I couldn't hold back anymore.
I practically fled into the bathroom, sobbing uncontrollably.
The running water drowned out my cries.
When I finally looked up, Jackson Pruitt was standing right in front of me.
He was dressed in some designer outfit that probably cost more than most people's rent.
His eyes were full of satisfaction as he looked at me.
"Solomon, you heard everything we said just now, didn't you?"
"Heartbroken? Devastated? And absolutely helpless to do anything about it?"
"Here's some friendly advice—just be a good boy and divorce Prudence."
"While you've still got a little fame left, go shoot some skin flicks, find yourself a sugar daddy. You'll pay off those debts eventually."
"Otherwise, once your looks fade and you get kicked to the curb, life's going to get real hard."
He saw my weakness. He understood exactly where it hurt.
So every word was a knife aimed straight at my wounds.
When I didn't respond, Jackson leaned in closer.
In a voice only the two of us could hear, like a devil whispering:
"Oh, and there's something else you probably don't know."
"I'm the one who drafted your prenup. And your family's bankruptcy? I engineered that too."
"So don't think you can get rid of me."
"I'm nothing like a pretty face like you. I'm the one who deserves to be at Prudence's side in the end."
That vicious look on Jackson's face brought back the memory of my father's eyes—hopeless, in his final moments.
I couldn't hold back anymore. My hand flew across his face.
The slap had barely landed when a force shoved me hard to the side.
Prudence had appeared out of nowhere, shielding Jackson.
Her face was full of concern as she examined the faint red mark on his cheek.
Those eyes that once looked at me so tenderly now barely concealed her fury.
"Solomon, what are you doing?!"
"Apologize to Jackson. Now."
"Do you have any idea what it would do to the company's image if someone saw this?!"
She felt sorry for Jackson. She cared about the company.
But she hadn't noticed at all—my face, already dead inside.
I slowly got to my feet. The words came out through clenched teeth.
"Prudence. Let's get a divorce."
