“Don’t think that just because you’re my husband you get to control me.”
“Remember your place—you’re just the dependent husband of the Scott Family. If this were ancient times, someone like you wouldn’t even have the status of a household manager.”
She used cutting words like that more than once to wound me, and with each blow, my love for her eroded a little more.
I took a deep breath, picked up my phone, and said into the receiver, “I’m going to divorce Vanessa.”
After the ambulance brought me to the hospital, I had no money to pay for treatment.
Vanessa had frozen my bank card.
Just like the time Jason had a birthday and Vanessa gave him an expensive watch. Overjoyed, Jason hugged her and kissed her cheek right in front of me.
Blinded by rage, I punched him in the face.
In return, Vanessa slapped me hard in front of everyone, called me petty and jealous, then froze my bank card, leaving me to survive on bread and tap water for a month.
Jason and I had clashed several times, and every time, Vanessa punished me by cutting off my access to money, calling it a “lesson to teach me a little humility.”
She even humiliated me publicly, sneering, “Everything you eat, wear, and use comes from me. Don’t make me unhappy, or you’ll end up on the streets, begging for food.”
Jason would deliberately provoke me, mocking me as Vanessa’s obedient lapdog.
The only reason I endured was not just because of my love for Vanessa, but because I still felt indebted to Mr. and Mrs. Scott for all they had done for me.
But that debt had long since been repaid.
And my marriage with Vanessa had reached its end.
Not long after, a young, elegant woman arrived at the hospital. Without hesitation, she arranged to have me transferred to St. Mary’s Private Hospital, the most expensive facility in the city.
She held my hand tightly, her eyes filled with worry as she said, “The test results are back. You’ve been infected with Chikungunya virus. The fever and joint pain will last for days.”
“This virus has been spreading along the coast recently. There’s no cure yet—only painkillers to ease the symptoms.”
Then, with anger in her voice, she added, “Is Vanessa out of her mind?”
“You’re seriously ill, and instead of taking care of you, she goes to the airport to greet Jason, that worthless freeloader? Clearly, she doesn’t care about you. You should’ve divorced her long ago.”
The woman before me was Olivia Carter, the beloved daughter of the powerful Carter Family.
Compared to them, the Scott Family was a joke. If the Carters wanted to crush them, the Scotts would collapse overnight.
Olivia and I had practically grown up together.
As a child, she was frail and sickly, so Mr. Carter Sr. took her to live in the Midwest countryside for many years.
My grandfather treated her with herbal medicine and acupuncture, while I spent my days playing by her side. She stayed until she was fifteen, then returned to the city with her grandfather.
When she left, she clung to me, crying, begging me to wait for her, promising she would marry me one day.
After my grandfather passed, I left the countryside too. By chance, I saved Mr. Scott when he suffered a heart attack.
Mr. and Mrs. Scott arranged housing and work for me, treated me with kindness, and eventually encouraged me to marry Vanessa.
