My Husband Made Our Daughter's Future a Bargaining Chi

The day the national college entrance exam scores were released, my husband brought me and our daughter from the countryside to the city.

At what was supposed to be a celebratory banquet for our daughter’s academic success, he stood up and announced that he wanted a divorce. Then, in front of everyone, he suggested we divide our marital assets based on a bet—using our daughter’s exam results as the deciding factor.

With one arm around a stylishly dressed woman, Hayden sneered.

"Didn’t you always say that Perrie always gets good grades? You can even guess her exam scores every time, right?”

“Then, let’s make things interesting. We'll use her exam results to decide the divorce settlement!”

Beside him, a girl in a frilly princess dress glanced disdainfully at my daughter in her school uniform.

"Don’t worry, Dad," she said arrogantly. "I won’t let outsiders take a single cent of our family’s money."

So that was it. For twenty years, I stayed behind in the village, raising our daughter and caring for his aging parents.

Meanwhile, he had already built a new life in the city—with another woman and even a daughter the same age as ours.

Now, he wanted to pit the two girls against each other in a contest of test scores just to drive us out with nothing.

But this time, he might have miscalculated.

——

“There will be three rounds in total,” he said smugly. “To keep things fair, I won’t make any guesses—only place bets. You and Jade will each write down your daughter’s estimated score. Whoever's guess is closest wins that round’s share of the assets.”

“Gwen, do you dare to gamble?”

My daughter looked at him, finally seeing his true colors. This wasn’t a celebration—it was a trap.

Clenching her fist, Perrie snapped, her voice trembling with anger. "My mom is your legal wife. She has the marriage certificate. That woman and her daughter—they’re nothing but a homewrecker and her illegitimate child. Why should they—"

Smack!

The slap meant for her landed on my arm as I stepped in front of her.

Perrie stared at her father, disbelief turning into fury in her eyes. "You don’t deserve to be my father. I hate you!"

I understood her heartbreak. For most of her life, Hayden rarely came home. After his parents passed away, he only returned once a year during all saints day.

It was only this past year—knowing Perrie would take the college entrance exams—that he began sending textbooks and health supplements, calling occasionally to check her progress.

Just when she had begun to feel a glimmer of fatherly love—it all crumbled in a moment.

How could she not feel betrayed?

"This is between adults. It’s not your place to judge," he snapped coldly. "If you don’t like it, you’re free to leave. But don’t expect a penny from me!"

I looked at the fire in Hayden’s eyes, and the smug satisfaction on the faces of the woman and her daughter beside him.

Calmly, I spoke. "Alright. I’ll take the bet."

"Mom?" my daughter asked, startled.

I gently touched her arm. "Don’t you believe in your own abilities?"

She immediately understood. "Fine. Let’s gamble. I’ve always ranked first in school. I’ll win back what’s rightfully yours!"

Once I had reassured her, I turned back to Hayden.

"To avoid future disputes, we should put everything in writing."

He agreed—probably afraid I might back out.

When the lawyer and notary arrived, the first round of the bet began.

"Mr. Shaw has wagered 20% of the marital assets. The mothers will each estimate their daughter’s score in the comprehensive liberal arts section. If the difference between the guess and the actual score is within five points, the one closest to the true result wins this round."

I had overseen every step of my daughter’s academic journey. No one knew her capabilities better than I did.

I watched Jade confidently jot down a number, then quietly wrote down mine.

The notary collected our slips and read aloud. "Vivian's estimated score in the liberal arts section is 275."

Gasps rippled through the banquet hall.

"The full score is only 300, right?" someone whispered.

"275? Isn’t that a bit too ambitious?"