Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Wendy's husband had died years ago in a collapsed mine shaft.

She was heavily pregnant when the news came, which threw her into premature labor.

Calvin had run around the hospital taking care of everything for her. At the time, helping a grieving widow seemed like neighborly goodwill.

Nobody expected Wendy to set her sights on Calvin the moment her husband was buried.

From the day the baby was born, Calvin bought every can of formula, every set of baby clothes, and handled every late-night emergency.

Out of Calvin's fifty-dollar monthly paycheck, forty dollars went straight into Wendy's pocket.

Our own apartment didn't have a single decent appliance, and my rusted bicycle was the only vehicle we owned.

Whenever I tried to talk to him, he accused me of having a heart of stone. "Wendy lost her husband while pregnant, Corinne. If I don't step in, how is that poor child supposed to survive?"

Yet everyone in town knew Wendy had received a massive settlement payout after the mine disaster.

Meanwhile, our household survived entirely on my salary.

In my past life, I would have cried and fought with him over every stolen dime, but not anymore.

I packed my things and laid out our marriage license and identification on the coffee table, waiting for him.

He returned late into the evening, looking tense when he saw me sitting on the couch beside the documents.

"Corinne, let's stop this nonsense," Calvin said, attempting a gentle tone. "I was out of line yesterday, but you don't need to blow this up into a real divorce."

I let out a dry laugh. "A small matter? Her kid is calling you Dad, and you call that small? We are getting a divorce, and there is nothing to negotiate."

Calvin's face hardened. "Corinne Abbott, stop being so unreasonable! The boy likes me because I treat him well. What's wrong with being his godfather?!"

"A good man? You're just a sucker. Does the kid like you, or is Wendy using you as an open wallet?"

Calvin scowled. "You're completely impossible! There is no talking sense into a bitter woman like you!"

"Then I'm doing you a favor by freeing you up for Wendy," I replied calmly.

"I married you against my family's wishes hoping for a real partner, but all I got was front-row seats to you doting on someone else."

"Take a look around this room. This company apartment came through my assignment. The furniture was paid for by my dowry. The groceries on the table were bought with my money. Even the shirt on your back came out of my pocket!"

"Where did your money go? It went toward toys and treats for Wendy's son, and fancy salon visits for Wendy herself!"

"When we visited my mother for the holidays, you didn't even bring a fruit basket because you blew your entire bonus on holiday clothes and cash envelopes for another man's child!"

I stood up, staring right into his guilty eyes. "Since your heart belongs to her, stop wasting my time."

"Once we're divorced, you can marry her properly and let her son call you Dad for real. At least then your money won't be completely thrown away."

Calvin chased me to the bedroom door. "Corinne, please, we can't get divorced!"

I couldn't fathom his logic. His heart was entirely with Wendy, yet he clung to our marriage like a parasite.

It didn't matter. In six days, I would be on a plane across the ocean.

Early the next morning, I woke up to the smell of cooking in the kitchen.

In five years of marriage, Calvin had never once lifted a pan for me, though he had happily made chicken soup for Wendy during her postpartum recovery.

I ignored him, washed my face in cold water, and grabbed two boiled eggs from the basket.

"Have a bowl of warm porridge before you go," Calvin offered softly, trying to play the devoted husband.

"No need," I said, opening my purse. "People about to sign divorce papers don't need to share breakfast."

"By the way, leave grocery money on the counter tonight. I bought the cookware, the stove, and the food. If you want to eat, pay for it."

For five years, he had never spent a single dollar on me.

Feeding him was the same as financing his mistress.