Her Lover Shaved My Head; I Stripped Her of Everything

Harrison's POV

I was undergoing a painless gastroscopy at my wife’s hospital. But when I woke up, the first thing I realized was that my head had been completely shaved.

“Thank you for sponsoring this wig, man.”

Standing beside the hospital bed, my wife’s male assistant, Logan Price, was gripping a bag of hair, grinning from ear to ear.

“Since you have no hair left, I’ll attend tonight’s banquet in your place,” he added cheerfully. “That way, Abigail won’t lose face.”

Furious, I lunged forward, ready to slap him.

But my wife arrived just in time and blocked me.

“You’re a grown man. Can’t you take a little joke?” she snapped. “Besides, hair grows back. What are you getting so worked up about? Was it really necessary to lose your temper at Logan?”

Her delicate brows knitted together as she firmly shielded Logan behind her.

My expression turned icy. Before I could say a word, Logan tossed the hair into the air.

“Why the rush? I’m giving it back, aren’t I? You’re so petty. Abigail and I were even thinking of getting matching tattoos,” he teased. “Surely, you'll become even more furious then.”

——

The scattered strands of hair felt like needles, stabbing straight into my heart. My body trembled slightly.

“Logan.” Abigail Mason’s expression finally grew serious. “You went too far.”

“Alright, alright.” Logan shrugged, spreading his hands as he yawned. “Fine, I’ll stop teasing you.”

He pulled out some cash and tossed it over.

“Here, seven bucks. Go buy yourself a wig. Consider it compensation for this prank.”

Anyone could tell that those two casual sentences weren’t an apology at all. Those were more like condescension, even pity.

Yet Abigail turned to me and said, “Alright, just take the money and let this go.”

Her blatant favoritism sliced into my heart like a knife.

Last time, when I accidentally knocked over Logan’s water cup, a simple apology and compensation weren’t enough. Abigail forced me to write a ten-thousand-word self-criticism and read it aloud in public.

When I refused, she smashed a crystal cup engraved with a famous athlete’s signature against me as punishment, then he joked that we were “even.”

And now she wanted to brush this off so easily.

I took a deep breath and looked straight at her. “He didn’t even say sorry. Is that what you call an apology? I want him to shave his head and write a ten-thousand-word self-criticism and read aloud in public.”

“What?!” Logan instantly put on a wronged expression. “Y-you… you’re bullying me! Shaving my head and confessing in public? How am I supposed to face people after that?”

As he spoke, he shot Abigail a pleading look.

I looked at her, too, with a complicated gaze.

First, I wanted to see what choice she would make.

Second, this was the very last chance left in our agreement.

Abigail frowned at me, her tone full of reproach. “Harrison, you’re putting me in a difficult position, and you’re suppressing a newcomer. Do you understand that? You used to say we should give newcomers more chances, not cut them down outright. So, why the sudden change? Besides, you’re Logan’s sponsor. You promised to help him become better!”

Those few sentences left me stunned, unable to respond for a moment.

Because she was right. I had said those things.

That was why I had paid all the college expenses for ten students, including Logan, and even helped them find jobs.

The other nine had settled into stable careers.

Only Logan was still drifting, miserable all day. He cried and begged me, asking to work at the hospital.

Witnessing that stirred Abigail’s sympathy.

In the end, I agreed.

When he later mixed up drug categories during procurement and caused a major loss, I didn’t even ask him to compensate.

So, why did I change my mind?