I paused, then said softly, "Ashley, let's get a divorce."
I was exactly the "cheap" person she called me. I grew up in an orphanage, and aside from the matron, Eunice Hunt, I had no family at all.
Three days ago, Ms. Hunt passed away and was cremated. I begged Ashley to come with me, but she was too busy with Jordan and wouldn't even answer a single call from me.
I hailed a taxi in the pouring rain. Little did I know I'd end up in a car accident right outside the Weston Group building, with both my hands pinned under the wheel.
The ambulance hadn't arrived yet, so I begged a passerby to call Ashley for me. She ignored my calls, yet she picked up immediately for the kind stranger.
"Hello, Ms. Weston? Your husband has been in a car accident downstairs."
"I won't answer your calls, so you pull a stunt like this to get to me?"
Ashley didn't believe the passerby.
In the background, I could hear Jordan laughing mockingly.
I had been bearing the pain in my hands, but that one phone call broke my heart into pieces.
Since I couldn't make it to Ms. Hunt's funeral, the best I could do was secretly pour my heart out to her. She was now up in heaven.
I told her that if Ashley hadn't hung up so quickly, I might have said a few more things—like how the very hands that could ease her migraines were pinned under a car wheel.
I would have also told her how much her Glovy was hurting.
Glovy was Ms. Hunt's nickname for me. It was also what Ashley called me when she first saw me, back in the blossoming days of our youth.
Having grown up in an orphanage, I was a prickly thorn who lashed out at everyone and got bullied plenty in return.
The Weston family came to the orphanage to make a donation, and all the children were lined up to welcome them.
That same day, a teenage Ashley went missing.
The abandoned warehouse at the orphanage was very secluded. It was where I went to escape from being bullied by the older kids.
There, I met Ashley. I had been bruised and battered, and she regarded me coldly.
I helped her hide for two months, bringing her food and water.
Later, I learned the truth of the saying, "Once a stepmother appears, your own dad starts acting like a stepfather too."
Ashley had just gotten a stepmother.
At night, I'd take her out of the warehouse, and we'd run wild in the yard.
When she heard Ms. Hunt call me "Glovy", she started calling me that too.
"Glovy, bring me some chips tomorrow."
"Glovy, my head hurts."
"Glovy!"
However, how could two teenagers stay hidden forever? Two months later, the news that the Weston family had found Ashley blew up online.
We didn't see each other again until college.
Ashley pursued me relentlessly, while I worked odd jobs to pay my way through college.
I'd been used to hardship since I was young, so I didn't trust the sweet talk of a rich socialite.
It wasn't until the year I graduated that Grandma Lydia learned of my existence and called me cheap. After that, Ashley would rather work odd jobs and live in a basement with me than go back to her family's villa.
We fell in love.
Ashley's migraines first started when she was living in the basement with me.
I learned how to give massages, and they turned out to be surprisingly effective on her migraines.
Ashley said it was probably the power of love. Later on, even the best doctors her family hired could never fully cure her.
She told me she wanted to buy me the most expensive insurance policy in the world. A hundred million dollars or even a billion dollars wouldn't be enough, because love was priceless.
Back then, hearing her say things like that made me laugh out loud.
Now, the hands that she once said were worth far more than a billion dollars were as worthless as weeds—just like our marriage was.
Ashley couldn't believe I'd be willing to divorce her. She was the CEO of Weston Group, after all. She was convinced I was just lying in the hospital pretending to be sick and playing the victim.
After I was discharged, I moved out of her family estate and rented a place near the orphanage.
Mr. Chapman asked me over and over whether I'd really made up my mind.
"Mr. Glover, the injuries on your hands could be grounds to claim that Ms. Weston failed her marital duty to care for you. In that case, you could push for a larger share of the assets."
I turned down Mr. Chapman's proposal, as I just wanted the divorce finalized as quickly as possible.
Then, I started actively searching for doctors and treatments to try to save my hands. Without Ashley in my life going forward, I only needed to take better care of myself.
The day I went to the cemetery to pay respects to Ms. Hunt, I ran into Ashley.
