Chapter 3

The next morning, the agent from the sales office called.

"Mr. King, your full payment has been processed. The contract is finalized, and the property now entirely belongs to you."

"Okay, thank you."

"And Ms. Chloe..."

"Don't worry about her. I paid for it, I signed the contract. It has nothing to do with her."

After hanging up, Ryan handed me an iced Americano.

"Does Chloe know you have this much money?"

"No. She thought my salary these past few years all went to daily expenses."

"Then this money..."

"I started taking on freelance design gigs right after college, pulling countless all-nighters to save it up. I'd originally planned to keep it for her to start a business after we got married."

Ryan heavily thumped his coffee cup on the table: "Liam, how much have you actually poured into her these past seven years?"

I opened my budgeting app on my phone and showed him.

Her Mercedes. Her parents paid the down payment, and she thought the monthly car payment was only five thousand.

It was actually eight thousand. I secretly transferred the remaining three thousand into her account every month.

She loved photography. That forty-five-thousand-dollar Hasselblad camera? She thought it was a prize from a brand giveaway.

But I'd actually bought it with a month's salary and conspired with the brand manager to stage the whole thing.

Last month, her mom was hospitalized, short thirty thousand for surgery. Chloe was frantic. I didn't hesitate to cover the cost.

Later, her mom held Ethan's hand and said, "Ethan is such a thoughtful child, coming to visit me every day."

I stood outside the hospital room, holding the homemade soup I'd carefully prepared, listening to the joyful laughter inside, then turned and threw the soup into the trash.

And on my birthday, Chloe gave me a cheap belt, saying that since we were getting married, practical gifts were the most important.

The more Ryan read, the deeper his frown became.

Taken individually, these might have just been small frustrations.

But seven years of accumulating grievances had long since suffocated me.

At noon, Chloe sent a text.

"Liam, what do you want for lunch? I'll pick you up."

"I neglected you yesterday, so I'll spend the whole day with you today."

I replied: "No thanks, Ryan and I are out."

She instantly replied: "What about tonight? I booked your favorite restaurant."

My favorite restaurant. The last time I'd gone there was three years ago.

But in those three years, she'd taken Ethan there no less than five times.

I'd even seen check-in photos of that restaurant on Ethan's social media, with the man wearing the suit I'd bought sitting across from him.

"I'm busy tonight too. I have plans."

Two minutes later, her call came in.

"Liam, are you still mad?"

Her tone carried a hint of helpless amusement, as if she were coaxing a temperamental child.

"No. I really have plans."

"What could be more important than having dinner with me?" she retorted with a laugh, her voice filled with certainty.

She was certain I couldn't leave her, certain I'd always wait for her.

I looked at the property registry confirmation text I'd just received on my phone and said calmly, "I'm getting my property deed."