My husband had successfully appointed Aurel Grann as the chief physician in the obstetrics and gynecology department.
Because she was so young, no one wanted to book an appointment with her. So, without a second thought, my husband, Barly Hudson, used me. He had her issue a gynecological certificate claiming that I had undergone seven abortions.
He turned it into a marketing gimmick.
Suddenly, young girls started showing up—dragged in by their boyfriends under the guise of routine checkups, all trying to verify whether their girlfriends’ romantic pasts were “clean.”
The publicity stunt worked like a charm. And my reputation? Completely destroyed.
When another harassing call came in, I finally brought up divorce—calmly, openly.
Barly didn’t understand. To him, it was an overreaction.
“That young doctor didn’t hurt anyone,” he said. “I was just helping her out. I paid for it, you contributed your part. What’s the big deal?”
“Of course it’s fine. Help her however you want,” I replied with a shrug.
After all, whatever he wanted to do for Aurel, he would do it—whether I agreed or not.
But from this moment on, I wouldn’t be the stepping stone he used to boost her career.
“Sign it.”
——
Barly leaned back in his office chair, adjusting his tie. His face already bore the look of mild impatience.
“It’s just a dent in your reputation. Being the subject of gossip won’t kill you.”
“Besides, you’re Mrs. Hudson. Who can actually hurt you?”
The same old line.
I gave a faint, tired smile.
“Do you remember your mother’s birthday? The antique porcelain she gifted had broken. You pushed me out to take the fall and said the same thing then.”
Mrs. Hudson had forced me to kneel in front of her and her husband. Because I didn’t do that, by the time I got out, the rumors were already everywhere—branding me as disrespectful toward my mother-in-law.
The media, netizens, relatives and so-called friends—all of them tore me apart.
And back then, Barly had said the same words, in the same tone.
“Are you really this upset just because I asked you to help a few more times? Aurel is still young and unmarried. If she gets a bad reputation because of something like this, what will become of her future?”
“Oh,” I said with a shrug, staring directly into his eyes.
“I’m two months older than her and already married—so I guess I don’t need a reputation.”
That’s how it is, isn’t it?
At least, in his eyes, that’s exactly how it is.
Barly’s fingers drummed irritably on the table.
“If it really bothers you, I’ll take some time off and bring you overseas for a break. Would that be better?”
“Isn’t it childish, talking about divorce over something so trivial?”
I was about to respond when the office door suddenly clicked open—the fingerprint lock disengaging with a soft sound.
Aurel walked in with a bright smile, placing a warm lunchbox on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
The moment she saw me, her smile faltered. Her expression turned surprised, awkward.
“Oh! Mrs. Hudson, you’re here too…”
“I’m so sorry—I didn’t know you’d be coming today, so I only brought enough soup for two…”
I ignored her.
I shot Barly a meaningful look, placed the divorce agreement on the table and stood up to leave.
The fingerprint lock on his door was programmed for his fingerprint only. He had said he didn’t like being interrupted while working. Every time I came before, I had to wait outside until he was finished.
Since that gift incident, Mrs. Hudson had banned me from bringing him soup altogether.
Judging by Aurel’s ease and familiarity, she’d clearly been having lunch with him here every day for a while.
The thought made me pause at the doorway. I turned back to face her.
“When did you register your fingerprint for the door?”
Aurel hesitated, then replied softly.
“The first day I came to bring him soup.”
“Hmm.”
So that’s how it is.
In Barly’s eyes, my visits as his wife were disturbances.
But hers? Apparently not.
It didn’t matter anymore. I had already made my decision.
I was going to divorce him.
