Susan looked at me closely.
“Emily, is it true?”
My face burned with shame. Daniel had come to my workplace and smeared me, making all my colleagues believe I was a hit-and-run criminal.
“No, Susan, it’s not true at all—”
“Enough, don’t bother explaining.” She patted my shoulder. “The boss wants to see you. Be careful.”
Anxious, I walked into Mrs. Thompson’s office. She sat behind her desk, face stern.
“Emily, sit.” She gestured to the chair. “The company already knows about your situation.”
“Mrs. Thompson, I can explain—”
“No need.” She cut me off, sliding an agreement across the desk. “Your actions have seriously damaged the company’s reputation. This is the decision.”
My hand trembled as I picked it up. The paper read: Your salary will be cut in half for the next three years as compensation to the company. If you refuse, you will be terminated immediately.
“Mrs. Thompson, this—”
“This was your husband’s suggestion.” Her eyes were cold. “He said you feel guilty and are willing to take responsibility. Sign it. The company is already being lenient.”
My hand shook as I gripped the pen. Daniel—he wanted to destroy even my job.
After signing, I dragged myself home. In the living room, Daniel sat beside Chloe’s bed, reading poetry aloud, his voice sickeningly tender.
“Daniel, your voice is so beautiful,” Chloe whispered with a weak smile.
I threw the agreement on the coffee table. “Satisfied now?”
Without even looking up, Daniel said, “Just sign it. Otherwise, if you lose your job, how will you support us?”
“Support us?” My voice trembled. “Daniel, we’re husband and wife!”
“So what?” He finally lifted his eyes, full of impatience. “You owe Chloe. You should repay her.”
Suddenly, Chloe coughed, pointing at the wedding photo on the coffee table.
“Daniel, that frame is so ugly. Just looking at it makes me uncomfortable.”
She deliberately knocked it to the ground. The glass shattered.
“Oh no, I didn’t mean to.”
Feigning innocence, she added, “Daniel, replace it with one of my portraits. It’ll look much better.”
Daniel immediately nodded with a smile. “Of course. Your pictures are true art.”
He turned to me.
“Emily, clean up the glass. Don’t let Chloe cut her foot.”
I crouched down, picking up the shards piece by piece. That photo had been taken on our wedding trip. I was leaning on his shoulder, smiling sweetly, and he had said the happiest thing in his life was to have me in that frame.
Now, the photo was broken. So was our marriage.
“When will we get her parents’ old house?” Chloe asked Daniel in a low voice.
My hands paused, but I pretended to keep sweeping.
“Soon. I’ve already asked an attorney to start the property transfer. She’ll sign—she always does what I say.” Daniel’s voice carried smugness.
“That house is in a great neighborhood. Selling it would fetch a good price.”
“Sell it? No. I’ll keep it for you as your art studio. Once you become a famous painter, we’ll be rich.”
Expressionless, I finished cleaning and returned to the storage room. From under the bed, I pulled out a second phone I had secretly bought yesterday.
I dialed a number.
“Mr. Anderson, is everything ready?”
A familiar voice replied, “Emily, it’s all set. The replacement property deed is being processed, and I’ve gathered the evidence you asked for.”
