Chapter 1Her Grand Show, My Blaze

Three years of marriage, and Ava despised any form of romantic gesture. Even buying her a single rose was enough to get me locked out of our home.

So, we never celebrated anything.

Until I was hospitalized with an acute stomach hemorrhage, only to scroll through her social media.

She had rented out the entire Coastal Cove Amusement Park, setting off a million-dollar display of fireworks for her depressed male subordinate.

I didn't lose my temper right then. Instead, at her company's annual investment summit the next morning, I lit those multi-million-dollar contracts, which I had secretly signed on her behalf, on fire, page by page.

“You always did love a grand gesture,” I said. “How does a ten-million-dollar firework look?”

She stayed silent, but her subordinate lost it.

“Mr. Ashford, you’re just a househusband living off Ava's hard work. You know nothing. How dare you make a scene here!”

“You just ruined everything she worked for. You’ve crossed the line!”

I didn't get angry. “You’re fired.”

My wife, who always prided herself on being rational, slammed her glass down and screamed at me.

“Jack, what right do you have to fire my people?”

I just shook my head. Once a woman stops listening, there is no point in keeping her around.

Worst case, I’d just fund another company and build up someone who actually knows how to behave.

...

At one in the morning, I was curled up on a hospital bed, cold sweat dripping from the agonizing pain in my stomach.

The doctor said it was acute stomach bleeding. I needed to be admitted immediately.

I called Ava for the fifth time. It went straight to voicemail again.

The nurse adjusting my IV sighed, her brow furrowing. "Where is your family? You shouldn’t be handling this alone."

"She’s busy," I managed a weak smile. "Extremely busy."

The nurse shook her head and walked out.

Staring at the sterile white ceiling, my mind drifted back to our wedding day. Standing outside the courthouse, Ava had grabbed my sleeve and said, "Jack, I absolutely despise useless, superficial gestures. Don’t buy me flowers, don’t plan anniversaries, and don’t do surprises. That’s garbage only brainless, show-off rich people care about."

I believed her.

For three years, I didn't even dare buy her a birthday cake.

Last Valentine’s Day, I made the mistake of bringing home a bouquet of roses. She didn't even let me in, her voice cold through the door: "Leave them outside. The petals will mess up my clean floors."

The next morning, those roses were in the trash.

I genuinely thought I had married a career-driven, low-maintenance woman.

Until, out of sheer boredom, I opened my phone.

The top post on my feed was from Ava, posted thirty minutes ago.

A grid of nine photos, filled with brilliant fireworks exploding over the city’s largest amusement park, Coastal Cove.

The caption read: May the rest of your life be free of shadows, burning as bright as these fireworks.

I tapped the first photo.

Ava was laughing like a carefree teenager, her arm wrapped around a slender, pale young man.

He had delicate, almost fragile features, looking up at the sky with a melancholic, sickly beauty.

Tristan.

Her new executive assistant, hired barely a month ago. Just a few days back, Ava had casually mentioned him to me: "The kid suffers from severe depression. Be patient with him."

The comment section was already flooded.

"Wow, Ava is so generous to Tristan! Rented out the entire Coastal Cove!"

"A half-hour firework show... how much did that even cost?"

Someone in the comments posted the exact figure: rental fee plus custom fireworks, three point eight million dollars.

Staring at those numbers, the burning in my stomach suddenly vanished.

Instead, my chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe.

I scrolled through my chat history with Ava over the last three years.

Me: Let’s have dinner together tonight.

Her: Busy.

Me: Want to catch a movie this weekend?

Her: No time. Stop wasting energy on pointless things.

Me: It’s our anniversary today.

Her: Jack, how many times do I have to tell you to stop bringing up these useless dates?

And yet, here she was, spending three point eight million dollars on fireworks for an assistant she had known for less than a month.

Just to make him "burn bright."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, sending another sharp spasm through my gut.

The nurse rushed back in, holding me down. "What are you doing? Don't move!"

I ignored her, my eyes glued to the photo. "It’s fine," I muttered. "I’m just done being the perfect, supportive husband."

The nurse stared at me, thoroughly confused.

I ignored her and dialed my best friend, Justin.

He picked up after two rings.

"Jack? Man, it’s the middle of the night..."

"Justin, first thing tomorrow morning, bring all the original investment contracts Ashford Group holds in Aura Financial to the International Convention Center."

A long silence stretched over the line.

"Jack... you’re finally waking up?"

"Yeah," I said, staring at the ceiling. "I’ve played the part for three years. I’m done."

"Also, have the market research team look for new targets. Within three months, I want a company that can completely replace Aura Financial."

"Understood."

I hung up and closed my eyes.

Ava, did you enjoy the fireworks?

Tomorrow, I’ll show you a much bigger show.