Chapter 1

I was the live-in son-in-law of the Hughes family.

On our sixth wedding anniversary, my wife, Clarissa Hughes, brought her newly hired secretary home.

With bloodshot eyes, I demanded to know what I meant to her.

Clarissa intertwined her fingers with the man's and said dismissively:

"You're just a dog to the Hughes family. What makes you think you have the right to lecture me?"

With that, she wrapped her arm around him and walked into the master bedroom.

Early the next morning, I handed her a divorce agreement and spoke calmly:

"Let's get a divorce."

1.

Clarissa pulled her bathrobe tighter, looking down at me with pure disdain.

"What kind of new trick is this? Playing the victim to get my attention?"

I stared at the red marks on her neck and said evenly:

"I'm not playing games. Haven't you always wanted a divorce? I'm just granting your wish."

Clarissa glared at the paper in my hand, her anger flaring up out of nowhere.

"You think threatening me with a divorce will work? Jesse Campbell, even your own parents abandoned you. Tell me, who else would want a useless piece of trash like you besides me!"

Before I could reply, her new secretary, Damon Miller, chimed in with fake concern.

"Jesse, please don't fight with Ms. Hughes because of me. A woman as remarkable as her naturally deserves more than just one man!"

If I hadn't caught the blatant mockery in his eyes, I might have actually believed he was trying to make peace.

Clarissa ran her fingers over his abs, glancing back at me with undisguised disgust.

"Babe, don't lower yourself by comparing yourself to this loser. He isn't worth a single strand of your hair."

I instinctively placed a hand over my chest, but the suffocating pain never came.

In the past, words like that would leave me gasping for air.

Now, my heart remained dead calm, completely numb to her venom.

Realizing this, a genuine, relaxed smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

Clarissa assumed I was mocking her. She grabbed a glass from the counter and hurled it at my feet.

The glass shattered across the floor, and a stray shard sliced across my forearm.

Drops of crimson blood seeped from the cut.

A flash of panic flickered across Clarissa's face, but she quickly masked it with cold indifference.

I pressed a hand over the wound, looked straight into her eyes, and said calmly:

"I'm serious about the divorce. Look it over when you have time, and sign it if there's no problem."

Seeing that I was dead set on leaving, Clarissa flew into a rage and ordered her security to lock me in the basement.

This was her favorite punishment. Whenever I displeased her, she would lock me in that cramped, pitch-black space.

At some point, though, I had begun to prefer the darkness of the basement over sharing a room with her.

With a heavy thud, the door slammed shut and clicked locked.

Sitting in the dark, my mind involuntarily drifted back to yesterday.

Yesterday was our sixth wedding anniversary, and I had spent all afternoon decorating the house.

When I heard the engine shut off in the driveway, I rushed to the door with a bouquet of red roses.

Yet the moment the door swung open, the smile froze on my face.

Clarissa caught sight of the roses in my hands and curled her lips into a mocking smirk.

"Jesse, are those for me?"

With a grim face, I nodded instinctively.

She snatched the flowers from my hands and smiled sweetly at Damon.

"Perfect. Fresh flowers belong to handsome men."

With that, she casually handed the roses to Damon Miller.

I demanded to know why she was doing this.

Clarissa let out a cold laugh.

"In what capacity are you questioning me? You're just a live-in husband. Do you really think you're the master of the Hughes household?"

"You're not even worth as much as our watchdog. If Grandpa hadn't favored you, do you think I would have ever married a nobody like you?"

Before I could speak, she swept the carefully prepared ribeye steaks off the dining table and onto the floor.

"Trash only makes garbage."

Taking Damon by the hand, she led him straight into our bedroom.

The men around Clarissa came and went, but they all had one thing in common: they all looked somewhat like her first love, Harrison Cole.

I cleaned up the messy living room in silence, then sat on the sofa all night listening to the noises coming from the bedroom.

The next morning, Clarissa stepped out looking thoroughly satisfied and ordered me to make breakfast.

Instead, I calmly handed her the divorce papers.

After accommodating her unconditionally for six years, I was finally done.