My wife’s childhood sweetheart suffered from depression.
To make up for his lack of family warmth, my wife often brought him home and cared for him closely.
They even hugged each other and slept in the same bed, under the excuse of “cuddle therapy.”
Just because of one question from him—
“When your baby is born, will you still treat me this well?”
—she didn’t hesitate to terminate the child that had just begun to form in her womb.
Furious, I rushed home to confront her, but she simply said:
“Ryan’s well-being is more important than anything.”
During this business trip, my wife once again brought her childhood sweetheart home to spend the night.
I pulled out the divorce agreement I had already prepared.
A woman with no sense of boundaries like this was unworthy of being my wife.
The next morning, just after I woke up, I received a barrage of calls from Claire Miller.
“Divorce? Just because of something so trivial? You actually went to a lawyer to file for divorce?”
I replied flatly, “Yes, exactly because of this.”
“Ryan just wants to stay here a few nights and feel some warmth of a family. Can’t you even tolerate that?”
“If it were just words before, fine, but now you’ve taken it to a lawyer? Ethan Brooks, do you ever stop?”
Claire’s tone carried clear impatience.
“Once we’re divorced, you can bring home whoever you want to sleep over.”
With that, I hung up the phone.
The ringtone kept buzzing.
When I still refused to answer, Claire sent me a string of messages:
“At worst, I’ll have him move into the downstairs guest room. That should be fine, right?”
“Ryan’s illness is so severe now. The doctor said he could attempt suicide at any time. Do you really have to throw a tantrum at such a critical moment?”
Message after message came in—at first trying to soothe me, later turning into irritation and impatience.
“Ethan, can’t you stop being so petty? I’ve already compromised for you. What more do you want?”
A compromise?
Having Ryan stay in the guest room is a compromise, but letting him sleep in our marital bed while I’m away is supposed to be acceptable?
I sneered. Just then another message came in:
“Ethan, you’re nothing but the Brooks family’s live-in son-in-law. Without me, you’re nothing. Even your tantrums should have limits.”
Reading that last message, I let out a hollow laugh.
Back when the Miller family was splitting their inheritance, it was about to fall into the hands of an illegitimate child.
I willingly married into the family and agreed to have a child so that Claire could remain in the Miller family registry and secure her status as heir.
Because of that, the Brooks family in New York City cut ties with me, even refusing to attend our wedding.
To help Claire firmly establish herself as CEO of the Miller Group, I endured being forced to drink at the U.S. Department of Commerce until I suffered stomach bleeding.
The patents the company needed—I traveled to the United States repeatedly, waiting outside a professor’s research lab at Columbia University until he was finally persuaded.
But all those efforts were casually credited to Claire’s so-called brilliance by outsiders who didn’t know the truth.
My own contributions were dismissed as mere benefits from the Miller family’s reputation.
I never cared about such gossip, but Claire was furious when she heard it.
She summoned everyone in the company who mocked me—those who could be fired were fired, the rest demoted or docked pay.
It wasn’t until every employee greeted me respectfully as “Mr. Brooks” that she was satisfied.
I worried she was making too many enemies, hurting her authority.
But she didn’t care at all.
“I want everyone in the company to know,” she said, “that if I stand where I am today, it’s because of you, Ethan—you’re the greatest contributor of all.”
