Ten Years in Prison, Now It's His Turn

Courtney's POV

On the day of my wedding, news broke that our company was under investigation for tax fraud.

To protect our little home and future, I turned myself in, taking the fall for Floyd Wagner, and served ten years behind bars.

However, when I was finally released, I found that Floyd had moved on and had a whole new family with numerous children.

Heartbroken and furious, I confronted him. "How could you betray me like this?"

But he just shrugged, completely unfazed. "I needed to carry on the family line."

His words made my eyes burn with unshed tears. I lost it, and we got into an argument.

His parents tried to calm me down, cooing, “Even if Floyd has kids with someone else, you’re still his wife. Just be gracious and move on. That’s more important than anything else.”

To my surprise, even my own parents chimed in.

“These past ten years, it was Floyd who took care of us. Wagners have a single male heir each generation. Were they supposed to wait around and risk losing that legacy?”

“And besides,” my father added, “you’ve been to prison. You already have a stain on your name. Honestly, the fact that Floyd hasn’t divorced you yet is a blessing.”

I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my skin. Biting my lip, I held back tears and asked him through trembling lips, “What are you going to do about us then?”

Floyd took a casual sip of his coffee, like this was just business, and answered, “As long as you behave yourself, I won’t divorce you. But the Wagner Corporation will go to Cliff and the other five kids.”

“They’ll treat you well when they grow up, don't worry,” he added, as if that was some kind of consolation.

That was the moment the last of my hope died.

“I don’t want that,” I said quietly, then firmly added, “I want a divorce, Floyd.”

Without looking back, I reached out to the woman I’d grown close to during my time in prison, whom everyone respected.

——

“Divorce? Absolutely not!”

The person who reacted the most violently wasn’t Floyd, but my father.

He slapped me across the face so hard that I staggered. “I can’t believe I raised such a petty, selfish daughter! With Floyd's wealth, he could even have multiple wives, yet he didn't divorce you. And now, you're throwing a fit over a few kids?”

My younger brother also stood up suddenly. “Come on, sis. What are you even saying? The money for my house, my car, my wedding—all of that came from Floyd. So what if he has other kids? Why make such a big deal out of it?”

“If it really bothers you,” he added, “why don’t you just have one for him too? It’s not like you can’t afford it.”

At that moment, I saw clearly how my so-called family, the ones I shared blood with, had chosen their side without hesitation. Their loyalty was to their own gain, not to me.

For the first time since I got out of prison, Floyd finally looked me in the eye, though there was a flicker of panic in his gaze as he said, “Courtney, don’t overthink this. You’re my wife. That will never change.”

But all I felt was cold.

I gave him a bitter smile and met his eyes. “Do you remember what you said to me before I went to prison?”

He froze, caught off guard by the question. His face flushed red, and he frowned. “Are you blaming me? I spent ten years taking care of your family. I never asked for gratitude. My parents are getting older. They just wanted to enjoy their grandchildren, so I gave them that. Was that really so wrong?”

He made it sound so noble and justified, like he had sacrificed something for me, like I was the one being unreasonable.

But he never once mentioned the promises he made, like I were the one who had done something wrong.

I tilted my head back to stop the tears from falling.

I came from a family that only valued sons. It was Floyd who had chased after me relentlessly, who told me I was worthy of love.

And I believed him.

I quit my high-paying job to start a business with him, believing we were building a future together.

He hated flattery, so I handled sales and public relations while he stayed behind the scenes.

I worked nights, crafted pitches, and drank with clients until my stomach bled.

I even suffered two miscarriages.

Finally, after three whole years of struggle, the company found its footing. And naturally, we got married.