Chapter 2

2.

I took off my apron and headed to the mall.

This time, I wasn't using the money to buy household supplies or things for them.

I bought several sets of expensive designer suits I had admired for years and spent five thousand dollars on a luxury dinner.

I went on a revenge spending spree, buying everything I had denied myself over the decades.

When I got back, Vivienne was already home.

Her face was dark, and she shot me a cold, piercing glare the moment I stepped through the door.

"Where the hell have you been? I waited ten minutes for that tonic! Because of you, Ewan didn't get his breakfast and almost fainted from low blood sugar on set!"

Hearing that, everything clicked.

So, she had been taking the tonics I made and giving them to Ewan for his breakfast.

I let out a cold laugh. "What does that have to do with me? Did I brew that for him?"

Vivienne crossed her arms and looked at me with undisguised disgust.

"I provide for you while you sit at home doing nothing. What's the big deal about making Ewan some breakfast?!"

"Also, I saw over a hundred thousand dollars was spent from the account this afternoon. What did you buy? Do you even care about this family's budget?"

I found her complaints absolutely ridiculous.

She was the one who forced me to stop working so I wouldn't interfere with her and Ewan.

Now, she was acting like I was some useless parasite she was supporting.

For thirty years, all the family expenses came from my career savings, yet now she thought I was being reckless for spending my own money.

I remained calm and stated firmly, "That account consists of my life savings. I have every right to spend it."

Vivienne didn't expect me, her usually submissive husband, to talk back twice in a row.

She gave me a strange look, and her anger seemed to simmer down slightly.

"Fine, I don't have the energy to argue. Buy whatever you want, it's not my money anyway. I'm tired. Go cook something, then go over to Ewan's and apologize to him."

She spoke with such entitlement, as if serving her lover was part of my job description.

I sat down on the sofa and gave her a distant look.

"Vivienne, I don't owe anyone anything, especially not you. You didn't hide the files on your computer well enough. I saw everything this morning."

Vivienne instinctively glanced toward her laptop, a flash of guilt crossing her face.

"Those are old photos! I just wanted to capture myself while I'm still young and beautiful! Don't be so petty, they're just pictures!"

She had been in a position of power for so long that even her explanations felt like she was doing me a favor.

I wasn't going to fall for her pathetic excuses anymore.

I stared at her intensely.

"What about the words written after the photos? If I remember correctly, our intimate life ended exactly ten years ago. It matches the timeline you wrote down perfectly."

I thought my heart couldn't hurt anymore, but Vivienne delivered a final, crushing blow.

She pointed a finger at my face and sneered.

"Arthur, aren't you embarrassed to be thinking about that at your age? Are you really trying to compare yourself to Ewan? You can't even touch a young stud like him. It's only natural I don't want to be with you!"

I couldn't help but laugh out loud. She was shamelessly blaming her cheating on my age.

"It is natural, I suppose. I understand. After all, everyone loves someone younger."

I looked her straight in the eyes and said solemnly, "So, let's get a divorce. You can go live with your young stud."

As I said those words, Jillian walked in and immediately started shouting.

"Dad! Are you seriously talking about divorce at your age? How embarrassing! I know about Mom's photos. Every woman wants to record her beauty. Just because you're old and useless doesn't mean you can stop Mom from having her fun!"

Her expression of annoyance and disgust was identical to Vivienne's. I looked at her calmly.

"You've always looked down on me as a father anyway. Once I divorce your mother, you can have whatever kind of father you actually like."

Jillian glared at me with pure hatred. "If you leave, who's going to take care of us? Uncle Ewan is too talented to stay home and be a servant!"

Her words were chilling and heartbreaking.

Half a lifetime of labor was nothing more than "servitude" in their eyes.

"Jillian, when you were three and got that illness, everyone said you wouldn't make it. I stayed by your side day and night until you recovered. When you were seven and got snatched by that trafficker, I took three knife wounds to bring you back. On your sixteenth birthday, you said, 'Dad, I wish for you to stay healthy and be with me forever.'"

Recollecting those fading memories of warmth brought tears to my eyes, but the reality was nothing but ice.

"Why are you bringing up ancient history? I was a kid then! It was your job to do those things for me!"

I felt a lump in my throat. I opened my mouth, then closed it, and finally just sighed.

"Just sign the papers once the divorce settlement is ready. Jillian stays with you. I don't want anything."

Vivienne pointed at me and cursed.

"Fine! Don't you dare come begging to get back in this house! Let's go, Jillian! Let's see if your father starts crying and begging us to come home!"

The mother and daughter duo slammed the door as they left, and suddenly, I felt the weight lift.

It was finally going to end.