In our five years of marriage, I had given in to my husband, John, for a grand total of three times.

The first time was during my pregnancy. He had taken his ex-girlfriend Stacy, who had once taken three bullets for him, back home and cared for her. When I became angry, he immediately sent her away once she recovered.

The second time was after childbirth, when I was ready to return to work. To repay a favor, he gave the position I had worked years for to Stacy. He said it was so I could rest well. I looked at my son, who needed me, and I conceded.

The third time was during our son’s birthday. In front of the entire company, he had announced that Stacy was his wife, all so she could establish herself in the company. I gave him two choices: divorce or send her away. Without hesitation, he chose the latter and immediately sent her abroad.

The fourth time was when my father suddenly had a heart attack and urgently needed surgery. He disappeared again. I searched everywhere for him to cover the hospital expenses, and I finally discovered that he had gone to the airport to pick up a pregnant Stacy, who was returning to the country. Because of that, my father missed the best chance for treatment and died.

I was done giving in.

I disguised the divorce agreement as our son’s medical bill and tricked him into signing it.

No compensation or apology would matter.

I did not wish to have him near my son or myself again.

“Mom, it’s my birthday today! Is Dad still not coming home?”

My son Jason tugged at my pants, with his voice choked with tears.

I looked at the dozen missed calls on my phone and felt anxious.

So I picked him up and went straight to John’s company, only to find his office empty.

The receptionist said he was in the banquet hall. I froze, then glanced again at the message John had just sent.

[I’m in a meeting, we’ll talk later.]

Suppressing my unease, I pushed open the banquet hall doors.

Jason shouted for his dad, but I quickly covered his mouth.

At that moment, John was holding another woman by the waist and announcing to everyone, “This is my wife, Stacy. We’ve been married for five years.”

He spoke smoothly, and the crowd turned to look at Stacy.

They stepped forward with their drinks to toast her, but John stopped them.

“My wife doesn’t like to drink, so I’ll drink on her behalf.”

My hands trembled violently, and by the time I calmed down, tears were streaming down my face.

My phone lit up with another message from John.

[My meeting is almost over. Where did you book the restaurant? I will head over.

[Stacy will come as well. Don’t throw a tantrum and embarrass her.]

I read each word, then looked up to see John slip his phone back into his pocket and kiss Stacy on the cheek.

I took out my phone and snapped a photo. I leaned against the wall for a time before walking out of the building.

The driver asked cautiously, “Madam, should we head to the restaurant?”

I rested my head wearily against the window. With a barely audible voice, I said, “No, go back to the Lane Family home.”

My parents came out happily to greet me, only to see I had brought Jason along, but not John.

“Where is John? Why did he not come? He isn’t with that woman again, is he?”

I gave a bitter smile and nodded.

Mother grew furious and patted my shoulder.

“Amy, our family may not be wealthy, but we can still raise you and Jason.

“If you don’t want to live with him anymore, then come home.”

With tears in my eyes, I threw myself into her arms and sobbed. “Alright.”

I ended up celebrating Jason’s birthday at the Lane Family home. He was happy.

John called many times, but I did not answer.

I only sent him the photo and then turned off my phone.

When I returned to the villa, John immediately leapt up from the sofa and rushed to the door.

“Amy, listen to me! It’s not what you think!

“Stacy just joined the company and had no solid ground there. I only wanted to use that title so she wouldn’t be bullied.”

His words came fast. It was as if he truly feared I would misunderstand.

I pushed him away coldly and held Jason’s hand as I walked inside.

“Dad...” Jason whispered.

“Don’t call him Dad!”

Jason flinched at my roar, and I gently patted his back to comfort him.

Then, under John’s stunned gaze, I said, “He isn’t your father.

“Miss Stacy is his wife. Only her child has the right to call him Dad.”

John froze because I had never spoken with such finality before.

He realized I was serious.

He rushed forward to grab me, but Stacy beat him to it.

She ran to me in tears and clutched my sleeve tightly.

“Amy, I’m sorry! It’s all my fault for being so useless and causing this.

“Please don’t blame John, I never wanted to ruin your marriage.”

I let out a cold laugh and flung her hand away.

“Haven’t you caused enough damage already?”

Ever since she took three bullets for John, she had completely claimed him.

When I was pregnant and nauseous, he had sat at her bedside, feeding her soup.

When I prepared to return to work, he gave her the position I had fought years for.

He said it was so I could rest at home, yet he rarely cared for our son, leaving me exhausted.

I still remember when Jason had a high fever in the middle of the night. I had been in tears as I called him to get the car ready.

He hurriedly hung up and told me to handle it myself.

Later, I learned that on that day, he had been celebrating Stacy’s birthday at Disneyland.

The more I thought about it, the more aggrieved I felt. I shoved Stacy aside and headed into the house.

It was barely a small push, yet she fell straight to the floor and knocked over the table.

A vase shattered against her head, and blood immediately poured down.

John went mad. He rushed over, knocking Jason down without even noticing.

“Stacy, are you alright?

“Amy, what are you waiting for? Call an ambulance!”

Jason burst into tears as blood ran down his scraped knees.

But John took no notice of him. He carried Stacy in his arms and ran out the door.

Each step he took felt like a stomp to my heart and left me unable to breathe.

At that moment, the man who had once held my hand and vowed never to let me or our child suffer was completely dead to me.

I took out the first aid kit to clean Jason’s wound. His eyes were red as he asked me, “Dad doesn’t like me, does he?”

My hand froze. I stared at the door where John had left and said,

“No, he just likes Miss Stacy more.”

When I finished applying the ointment, I coaxed Jason to sleep and then started packing my bags.

It was ridiculous. I was the lady of the house, yet my bedroom was tucked in the farthest corner.

Stacy had once claimed she was not in good health, so John had given her the largest room.

I let out a sigh, and my resolve to leave grew firmer.

At that moment, John opened the door. He looked a little tired.

“Let’s talk. I know you can’t stand Stacy, but she really matters to me.”

I gave a cold laugh and pushed away the glass of hot water he offered.

After so many years, no one understood better than me how high a place Stacy held in his heart.

I looked up at him and gave him two choices.

“Either divorce or let her leave.”

His grip tightened around the cup. He knew I was serious. Through all these years of grievance, I had never once mentioned divorce.

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed heavily and spoke solemnly.

“I don’t want a divorce. Once Stacy is discharged, I’ll send her abroad. Will that do?”

I was stunned by how decisively he said it. After all, he even escorted her to work every day.

Would he really be willing to abandon her overseas?

But John actually kept his word.

The day Stacy was discharged, he deliberately took me along to the airport to see her off.

After that, he happily took Jason and me out to dinner and bought our son many gifts.

“Jason, I’m sorry I missed your birthday. These presents make up for it twice over.”

Jason jumped for joy and kissed him repeatedly.

“Dad, I love you the most!”

John smiled as his son kissed him, then turned to look at me.

But I kept my head down and ate in silence. I kept my expression neutral.

Even though Stacy had left, our relationship was no longer the same.

John clearly sensed it too, so he tried everything to make it up to me.

A month later, while eating, he suddenly said, “I heard that your father has not been doing well lately. I’ll go back with you to pay him a visit.”

I agreed, called my parents, and set a time. They were delighted.

“It seems like John has finally grown up. You two should live well together from now on.”

For some reason, unease lingered in my heart.

Sure enough, on the day of departure, John disappeared, claiming he had some matters at the company.

I flashed a bitter smile and took Jason back alone.

When my father saw me by myself again, he collapsed in anger.

He already had a heart ailment. The doctor had warned us last time that he must not suffer any more shocks.

“Dad! Dad! Wake up! Don’t scare me!”

I cried as I called for emergency help and rushed him to the hospital. My heart pounded as if it would burst.

Minute by minute passed, until the doctor finally emerged from the operating room.

I ran to him. “How is my father?!”

He pulled off the surgical mask with relief.

“Stable for the moment, but he must undergo a heart transplant within an hour. Don’t worry, the hospital just received a donor. As soon as the payment is made, we can start surgery right away.”

My mother breathed a sigh of relief. With John’s money, paying for surgery was nothing.

I was slightly relieved and called John for help.

But after dozens of calls, none went through.

Time was slipping away. I hailed a cab to his company and ran frantically to the front desk.

“Find President White for me, it’s urgent!”

To confirm my identity, I handed her our marriage certificate.

The receptionist frowned in doubt.

“Miss, this certificate is fake. President White has gone to the airport to pick up his wife, Miss Stacy. How could you possibly be his wife?”

In that instant, my legs gave out, and I collapsed to the floor.

But I had no time to grieve. My father was still waiting on the operating table.

I desperately reached out to friends, but even so, I only scraped together three hundred thousand dollars. I begged the doctor in tears.

“Please save my father, I will pay the rest after the surgery!”

The doctor pulled his hand away and said regretfully, “I want to help you, but it’s already too late. That heart has already been used for someone else, and your father has run out of time.”

I stumbled back, covered my face, and sobbed uncontrollably.

Ten minutes later, my father was pushed out under a white sheet. My mother fainted on the spot.

Another ten minutes later, John finally called me. His voice was cheerful.

“Amy, my phone was off during the meeting, so I didn’t get your calls. I’m heading to your family home now. What does your father like to eat? I’ll buy some on the way.”

I stared at the phone with lifeless eyes.

“Hmm? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

My throat worked as I forced out each word.

“You don’t need to buy anything. My father is dead. He can’t eat anymore.”

John rushed into the hospital while drenched in sweat and gasping for air.

He saw me sitting at the morgue door. His steps faltered, and he dared not come closer.

Mom stormed over and slapped him hard.

“You beast! If you’d answered your phone, would my husband be dead?”

With reddened eyes, John crouched in front of me and clutched my leg.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry... It’s all my fault, my phone was off... I’m sorry...”

I looked at the tears streaming down his face and felt nothing but disgust.

I did not have the energy to expose him. I simply turned away with indifference.

The sobs behind me grew louder, but I never looked back.

After Dad died, John lost his mind trying to make it up to me.

He gave Dad a grand funeral, then brought Mom to the villa to retire in comfort.

He turned down countless work matters and spent his days with me and Jason.

Jason was still young. He did not understand how much wrong John had done, so he grew ever closer to him.

Seeing Jason nestled in John’s arms while sweetly calling him Dad left me aching inside.

That night, I could not help asking, “Jason, if you had to choose between Dad and Mom...”

Before I could finish, he shouted, “I choose Mom!”

I burst into tears and pulled him into a tight embrace. Then, I called a lawyer to draft the divorce papers.

The lawyer worked quickly. By the next day, the documents had arrived.

John fetched the parcel and handed it to me with a smile.

“Your package came. I signed for it. From now on, I’ll handle them for you.”

I took the envelope. Seeing it still sealed, I breathed easier.

“Why are you so tense?”

“Just some shopping receipts.”

Sensing my evasiveness, grief flickered in his eyes.

He turned back to the kitchen and cooked us a lavish meal before leaving for work.

Watching his lonely back, my heart still ached uncontrollably.

Once, we had loved so deeply, yet we had come to this.

While I was lost in thought, Jason’s screams tore through the dining room.

“Mom! Mom! My throat...”

I rushed out and saw Jason writhing in agony on the floor while clutching his throat, his face swollen blue.

I looked at the half-eaten sandwich on the plate. Inside it was a mango.

Jason was allergic to mangoes, yet his own father had not known.

Trembling, I rushed him to the hospital. Images of my father’s death flashed before my eyes. I could not let history repeat itself.

Thankfully, Jason was safe. The doctor said we had brought him in just in time.

Relieved, I collapsed outside the examination room.

I caught sight of a familiar figure.

John held Stacy as they entered the obstetrics ward. She caressed her still-flat belly, smiling sweetly.

The hot soup in my hands spilled, scalding me with blisters, but I felt no pain.

I stood frozen, staring after them as they vanished.

A passing woman nudged her husband with a sigh.

“Look at that, he goes with his wife to every checkup. And you?

“Ah, I really envy her. Her husband spoils her so much, he even pays for special access so she won’t stand too long.”

Chastised, the man muttered, pointing discreetly at me, “At least I’m better than some. Look at that lady, rushing her kid to the ER alone while her husband’s nowhere to be seen. Compared to him, I’m doing well.”

I listened in silence, nails biting deep into my palm.

They had no idea. The husband they envied and the husband they scorned was the same man.

The difference lay only in which woman stood by his side.

I was unworthy.

With a long sigh, I drove home, drained.

John had arrived before me. He looked around the wrecked dining room and asked quickly, “What happened? Was the food not to your liking?”

Biting my lip, eyes red, I said, “No, Jason had a mango allergy attack.”

John froze. Guilt filled his eyes, and he bolted for the door.

“Damn it, I should’ve noticed! Which hospital is he in? I’ll go see him!”

I grabbed his arm and handed him the divorce papers.

“Sign the bill first, the doctor’s urging me to pay.”

Without hesitation, John agreed, scrawled his name on the paper without even looking, and hurried me toward the hospital.

By Jason’s bedside, he held his hand tightly and whispered apology after apology.

From the corner, I touched the signed divorce papers inside my bag and finally breathed again.

This absurd marriage was over.

After Jason fell asleep, John came to speak to me, but his phone rang.

He hurried into the corridor, lowering his voice.

“Baby, does your stomach hurt? Don’t worry, I’ll be there soon.”

When he returned, he clasped my hand.

“There’s still work at the company. I’ll come back later.”

I pulled my hand away coldly with only a quiet hum.

John faltered but said nothing else before striding out of the hospital.

Compared to me, Stacy was always more important.

I returned to the ward, gathered Jason into my arms, and left without looking back.

“Airport,” I told the driver. “And hurry.”

…

John returned to the apartment to find Stacy lounging on the sofa, happily eating fruit.

She looked radiant, without a trace of pain.

He rubbed his brow in exhaustion. “Stacy, you faked being sick again.”

She leapt into his arms, pouting. “I only wanted to see you.”

In the past, John would have spoiled her and tapped her nose in jest.

But with his family in the hospital, his patience was gone.

He pushed her away coldly. “Don’t do this again. It gets in the way of my work.”

Under her stunned gaze, he turned and drove back to the hospital.

On the way, he bought bags of food I loved and soothing oils for fatigue.

But when he opened the ward door, everything slipped from his hands.

Grabbing the nearest doctor, his voice trembled.

“Where’s the patient? Where did the patient from this ward go?!”

Startled, the doctor stammered, “She left with her child just after you stepped out.”