Chapter 2

The bill amount was two hundred and fifty dollars.

I picked up the underwear scattered on the floor, wiped off the dust, and continued listing it online.

Priced at eighty-eight dollars per pair, forty-two pairs sold.

I glanced at it twice, closed the page, and called Henry.

"Henry, let's get divorced."

Two seconds of silence on the other end, followed by a scoff.

Then came a woman's voice, syrupy sweet and mocking.

"Oh, Hudson, how much are you trying to squeeze out of Henry this time? Come up with a new trick already?"

It was Aurora, a famous beauty and the daughter-in-law Henry's parents truly wanted.

Henry didn't say anything.

But I could imagine his expression—brows knitted, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes cold as ice.

That was how he looked at me every time, especially after what happened five years ago.

Back then, Henry's society lady mother came to see me.

Before I could even say hello, she handed me a check for five million dollars.

"Leave my son. This money is yours."

I took the check and agreed to break up.

Not because I loved money, but because my mom had just been diagnosed with late-stage cancer. Chemotherapy was a bottomless pit—one day in the ICU could burn through ten to twenty thousand dollars.

Henry had just started his business right before that, and I'd transferred all my savings to him as startup capital.

I hadn't kept a single penny.

His company was just getting off the ground and couldn't scrape together even five hundred thousand.

He ran around every day chasing investors, so exhausted he'd collapse into bed as soon as he got home.

That five million was my only way out.

Later, his company came back from the brink and grew to a market value of three hundred billion.

He was also acknowledged by the elite Franklin family—truly reaching the pinnacle of success.

But then he came to find me, saying he wanted to marry me.

I thought he'd learned the truth and was repaying his debt.

Instead, on our wedding night, he told me: "Hudson, I'm marrying you just so you can see how much the man you abandoned for being poor is worth now."

He didn't know my mom died anyway.

He didn't know I'd gotten on my knees in front of his mother that day, begging her not to tell Henry the truth.

On the other end of the phone, Henry finally spoke.

"Divorce is fine."

His voice was calm, like he was discussing a business deal.

"Leave with nothing. Don't expect to take a single penny."

"Also," he paused, "return everything I gave you in cash."

What had he given me?

For our third anniversary, he gave me a Cartier necklace. I later discovered it was a knockoff and was laughed at by high society ladies for a whole month.

The bag he gave me for my birthday came with a receipt inside, but the price had been blacked out.

The only valuable thing was the wedding ring.

But the next day, someone came to "borrow" it, saying it needed to be resized. It was never returned.

I calculated—if I converted all these things to cash, they'd be worth about ten thousand dollars at most.

"Fine," I said.

Silence on the other end for a few seconds.

He probably hadn't expected me to agree so readily.

Aurora spoke again, her voice tinged with laughter:

"See, Henry? I told you. She can't wait to take the money and run.

Five years ago she could abandon you for money, and now she's willing to leave with nothing—she's probably latched onto an even bigger sugar daddy."

Henry didn't respond to her.

He just said coldly, "Hudson, you really are something," then hung up.

I folded the payment slip twice and stuffed it in my pocket.

Then I counted the new underwear he'd thrown at me—a hundred pairs total.

At eighty-eight dollars per pair, that was eight thousand eight hundred dollars. It should be enough for my divorce.