On the day my dad gets kidnapped, I call my wife, Eliza Wood, who has a net worth of 100 million dollars, for help while sobbing.

After she hears me out, she lets out a chuckle.

"I've transferred three million dollars to you. This time, be a good boy and don't bother Leon."

I quickly agree to Eliza's condition. After that, I transfer the money into the kidnapper's bank account.

But when Dad is about to get released, Eliza pulls off some tricks to retrieve the ransom money and freeze the kidnapper's bank account.

Thinking that I've tricked him, the furious kidnapper decides to kill Dad. But first, he torments Dad for three long hours before finally ending his life.

When I'm on the way to pick up Dad's ashes, I notice photos of Eliza and her newly-hired assistant, Leon Turner, taking over every billboard and monitor in the city.

After dealing with Dad's ashes at home, I call Eliza on the phone.

"Let's get a divorce."

Eliza and Leon's laughter can be heard drifting over the speaker.

"This again? Leon told me that you're spending too much money, so he convinced me to give you a light punishment. Don't tell me you got mad at me because of that."

I clutched my phone, my stomach churning as a wave of nausea hit the back of my throat.

My wife Eliza Wood's lazy voice droned on from the speaker, "Not enough? Want me to throw in another million dollars?

"Speak up. Did you go mute? One million dollars isn't enough for you to squander? I'm giving you this money to keep up appearances for the Wood family. Stop embarrassing me out there. And drop the whole divorce act. I'm sick of hearing it."

The line went dead, and my phone screen lit up with a bank notification.

Looking at the string of zeros, I only felt a sharp pang of irony.

Three days ago, a kidnapper held a knife to Dad's throat. In the video, Dad was covered in blood, yet he kept screaming for me to forget about him.

I dropped to my knees, slamming my forehead against the floor until it bled, begging Eliza to save him.

At that time, I was ready for any humiliation. I would have shined her assistant Leon Turner's shoes if she'd asked.

Surprisingly, she agreed without a fight that day.

The moment the funds cleared, I thought the nightmare was over.

The kidnapper untied Dad. Collapsing to the ground, he grabbed the phone, crying, "Shawn, I'm okay. I won't be a burden to you anymore. You and Eliza take care of each other."

Those were his last words to me.

Then, the kidnapper's enraged roar shattered the moment. "The payment was reversed! How dare you fool me? Did Ms. Wood do this? I'll show you the price of playing me!"

The screen went black.

I called Eliza nearly a hundred times, but all I got was a busy signal.

I called her assistant, her driver, and even the Wood family's butler. Every single response sounded like a broken record.

"Ms. Wood is busy."

"Ms. Wood is in a meeting."

"Ms. Wood said everything else can wait until she's done."

I rushed to Wood Corp like a madman, only to be pinned to the icy floor by security. I stared helplessly as Eliza's private elevator stopped at the top floor.

It had been three days.

After three whole days, the only thing I received was a call from the police, asking me to identify Dad's body.

The coroner said Dad was tortured for three hours before he died. Every bone in his body was broken. There wasn't a single patch of unblemished skin left.

He was literally tortured to death.

I walked out of the crematorium. The urn in my arms felt incredibly light, yet it weighed heavily on my shoulders.

As I looked up, the city's massive LED screens were broadcasting a slideshow of Eliza and Leon.

In the photos, she smiled softly while leaning against him. Fireworks filled the sky in the background.

The headline stung my eyes. "Wood Corp CEO Spends Five Million Dollars to Celebrate Leon Turner Joining the Company."

The timing lined up perfectly with the night Dad was murdered.

So this was what she meant by "busy". She was busy taking photos with Leon.

In her eyes, Dad's life wasn't even worth one firework show for Leon.

The one-million-dollar transfer notification on my phone felt like a massive joke.

She revoked the three million dollars meant to save a life, only to turn around and blow five million dollars to plaster Leon's face across the city.

And now, she threw one million dollars at me like a handout to a beggar, telling me to "keep up appearances".

I raised the phone to my face, staring at her photo with Leon. "Eliza, is this what you called 'busy'?"

My heart, which had been aching terribly, suddenly felt entirely hollow.

It wasn't numbness. It was a dead, heavy silence.

I placed the urn on the passenger seat and carefully buckled the seatbelt. "Dad, let's go home."

I started the car, leaving their public display of affection far behind.

Crossing the river bridge, I wanted to hurl the phone into the water.

But then I remembered Dad's screams right before the video cut.

I couldn't throw it away. This was evidence. I had to keep it, even if holding it burned me.

Back home, I placed Dad's urn on the altar.

The moment my forehead touched the floor, my tears finally ran dry.

I stood up and dialed Eliza's number.

This time, she answered almost immediately.

In the background, I could hear Leon's laughter and the clinking of champagne glasses.

"What? Changed your mind?"

Eliza's voice was dripping with condescension. "Just behave yourself now that you have the money."

As I stared at Dad's portrait, my voice was dead calm. "Eliza, my dad is dead."

The line went silent for a second, then came Eliza's scoff. "Are you ever going to stop? Using something as vile as cursing your dad just to get me to come home? First you faked an illness, now you're faking your dad's death. Who's next? You?"

I said nothing. I listened quietly to the woman I had loved for five years use the most vicious words to distort my grief.

"Leon was right. You just have too much free time on your hands to cook up these stories. One million dollars isn't enough? Fine, I'll send you another half a million. Stop ruining my mood. We're going to a wardrobe fitting. Bye."

The line clicked shut.

I stared at the screen for a moment.

Then I opened WhatsApp, found the profile picture that had been pinned to the top for five years, and blocked her.

Next, I dialed a different number.

"Mr. Reilly, draw up a divorce agreement for me."

"Yes, right now."

"The reason? My wife is dead to me."

I sat in the empty living room, cradling Dad's urn.

My phone screen lit up again. It was Eliza.

The ringtone blared for a long time, cut out, and then started up again.

I stared at her name as if it were a complete stranger's.

Finally, the ringing stopped.

A few seconds later, an audio message came through from one of her friends.

I tapped it. The background was noisy, and Leon's voice drifted through. "Just ignore him, Ms. Wood. You can't spoil him. The more you give in, the worse he gets."

Then came Eliza's cold tone. "Shawn, don't overthink this. The five-million-dollar ad campaign is only because Leon just joined the company. As my assistant, he needs this to build his authority.

"Reflect on yourself, and I expect the house to be spotless by tomorrow. Otherwise, you can forget about that one million dollars."

I listened with a blank face. My finger slid across the screen to save the audio.

Then I texted back. "See you at the courthouse tomorrow morning."

…

The next morning, I went to the courthouse.

The lobby was crowded with people from all walks of life, each there for a different reason.

I sat on a bench in the corner, clutching my queue ticket.

9:00 am.

9:30 am.

10:00 am.

Eliza never showed up.

I sent her a text. "I'm waiting for you at the courthouse."

It wasn't until almost noon that Eliza's other assistant, Cody Duncan, finally called.

"Mr. Hardy, Ms. Wood is in a meeting. She doesn't have time for your tantrums. She said you should stop acting like a child. Also, she's having dinner at home tonight. Make sure you prepare her favorite honey-glazed ribs."

With a sharp beep, the line went dead.

I stood in the middle of the noisy lobby, holding my phone as the glances from people around me pierced like needles.

A tantrum?

Dad was dead. His ashes were barely cold, and to her, I was just throwing a tantrum?

A surge of rage rushed from the soles of my feet to the top of my head, burning away every ounce of sanity.

I dialed back.

Cody answered, his voice dripping with impatience. "Mr. Hardy, I already told you—"

"Put Eliza on the phone!" I screamed into the receiver, my voice echoing so loudly that the entire lobby fell silent.

"Tell her if she doesn't take the call, I will jump from the top of the Wood Corp building right in front of her office window!"

Perhaps my tone carried too much finality, or maybe the threat of jumping spooked him. After a brief rustle of static, Eliza's voice came through.

It vibrated with suppressed fury. "Shawn Hardy, are you done losing your mind? Don't yell in a public place. Even if you don't care about your reputation, I care about mine!"

Hearing her voice actually calmed me down.

After that peak of pure rage, a chilling calm settled in.

"Eliza, I haven't lost my mind. I'm only asking you one thing. Are we getting a divorce or not?"

Eliza scoffed. "A divorce? On what grounds? Get real, Shawn. You live off my money, and I even paid for your dad's medical bills. Leon is just my assistant. He's better than you and more driven than you. Are you jealous of him?

"The position of my husband will always be yours, as long as you behave. Stop using divorce to threaten me. It doesn't work."

Her tone was utterly confident, as if she were absolutely certain I could never leave her.

Too bad for her, that Shawn was already dead.

I reached into my pocket and touched a crumpled bankbook. It was the last thing Dad left me.

There were 20 thousand dollars inside—everything he had managed to save by living frugally.

He used to say, "Shawn, if Eliza ever makes you feel miserable, take this money, buy a ticket, and come home."

I was miserable, but I couldn't go home anymore because my home was gone.

Eliza's voice cut back in. "If you just go home right now and apologize to Leon and tell him you were making everything up, I'll throw in another million dollars. Consider it… medical expenses for your dad."

I spoke right into the receiver, pronouncing every single word clearly. "Eliza, that's called funeral expenses. And I haven't settled the score with you for reversing the ransom money and getting Dad killed."

"What nonsense are you talking about?"

Eliza's voice spiked sharply. "What do you mean reversing the ransom? I just—"

Before she could finish, I cut her off. "You just wanted to break my spirit? Or did you just need to free up funds to pay for a photoshoot for your lover? Eliza, you disgust me."

With a sharp beep, I hung up.

This time, I blocked her number entirely.

The world finally fell silent.

I didn't return to that lifeless mansion. Instead, I took Dad's urn and drove to our old home on the outskirts of the city.

This cramped, rundown place, barely 500 square feet, was the only inheritance Dad left behind.

Yet, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace.

I placed Dad's urn on an old cabinet, right next to the only photo we had together.

In the picture, Dad was smiling warmly, and I was riding on his shoulders with a lollipop in my hand.

We were very poor back then, but we were happy.

"Dad, from now on, it's just the two of us here," I whispered, my tears hitting the dusty floor.

After tidying up the place, I called my lawyer, Zander Reilly. "Help me draft the paperwork. I want to file for divorce."

Right after I hung up, a sudden, heavy pounding rattled the front door.

"Shawn Hardy! Open the door!"

It was Eliza. She had actually tracked me down here.

"I know you're inside! Why are you hiding? You had the guts to hang up on me, but now you're afraid to face me? Open the door! Or I'll have someone tear it down!"

"Breaking and entering is a crime, Ms. Wood," I said coldly from inside.

Eliza didn't seem to expect me to stand my ground so firmly. "Shawn, stop pushing your luck when I'm trying to be nice.

"I came here to give you a chance. If you come back with me right now, we can just forget everything that happened. I'll arrange the best nursing home for your dad, hire the best caretakers—"

"Eliza."

I cut her off, my voice practically dripping with ice. "Do you not understand me? My dad is dead. You killed him. While you were busy taking photos with your assistant, he was beaten to death by kidnappers."

A deathly silence fell outside the door.

It took a long time before Eliza's voice drifted back in. It carried a faint tremor but mostly utter disbelief. "Y-You're making up stories again? You'd actually tell a lie like that just to win some sympathy? Shawn, you're a massive disappointment."

I leaned against the door and closed my eyes.

Disappointment?

Who was the real disappointment here?

"Go away," I spat.

"Shawn Hardy!"

"I said go away!"

I slammed my foot against the door, the loud crash making Eliza gasp on the other side.

"Take your hypocrisy and get out of my sight! If you don't leave right now, I'm calling the cops!"

It grew quiet outside.

After a few moments, the clicking of high heels started up again, fading further and further away.

About ten minutes later, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.

It was Eliza.

"Tomorrow night is the Wood Corp anniversary gala. You will attend as my spouse. Once it's over, I'll agree to the divorce."