Chapter 2Calling in Sick for My Broke Husband, Only to Find the CEO

"Eleanor, calm down. We'll talk about this at home."

I cut him off. "You mean that crumbling five-hundred-dollar-a-month apartment with the peeling paint?"

I really wanted to laugh.

His expression changed. The employees arriving for work in the lobby were starting to stop and stare.

He reached out to grab me. "Stop making a scene here, it looks bad."

"Let go of me," I said through gritted teeth.

He refused to let go. "Aren't you just throwing a fit because I didn't spend my money on you? Do you really have to play the victim in public?"

"I slept with you for seven years for free! You should be grateful!"

"Let me tell you, the more you act like this, the less money you're ever going to get from me!"

I stared at him in utter disbelief. I never imagined I'd hear such vile words coming from my own husband's mouth.

I felt like I didn't know him at all. Or rather, I had never truly known him.

Vanessa watched us struggling and let out a mocking laugh.

"Let's go, Nolan. It's so embarrassing to make a scene here."

"Didn't you promise to buy me a new bag before we meet the client?"

Nolan agreed without hesitation.

"Yeah, no problem. And I'll help you upgrade your car, too! Image is everything when meeting clients, after all."

Vanessa shot me a provocative glare. "Hear that? Nolan's money is my money. You want eight million for a divorce? Keep dreaming."

"But hey, you did take care of Nolan for me all these years. That counts for something. If you're willing to call me 'big sister', I'll tell Nolan to cut you a check so you can replace those cheap Temu knockoffs you're wearing."

Those words stung more than a physical slap.

I thought of all the days I spent penny-pinching.

I thought of the winter coat I hadn't replaced in five years. I thought of the makeup I never dared to buy. I thought of being humiliated by drunk customers during my night shifts at the convenience store.

The humiliation boiled over.

As Vanessa arrogantly leaned her face in to mock me, I used every ounce of strength I had and slapped her right across her self-proclaimed aristocratic face.

Vanessa stumbled back two steps.

Time seemed to stand still.

It took a few seconds for Vanessa to process what happened. Her face twisted in rage.

"You bitch! You piece of trash! Nolan! She hit me!"

Nolan reacted instantly. He shielded Vanessa behind him, tenderly cupping her cheek.

"Eleanor, are you crazy?!"

He raised his hand and brought it down hard.

I didn't have time to dodge. My entire face burned with a stinging pain.

Fighting through the pain, I screamed at Nolan: "Don't push me!"

Nolan yelled back: "Push you? Try hitting her again! If you had a spine, you wouldn't be saying this crap!"

"You have zero ambition! Seven years of marriage and you're still a bottom-tier coder! If you were actually capable, would you need to work a cash register at a convenience store after your day job?!"

"You're useless, so don't take your anger out on other people! If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for being a failure!"

"Do you know I don't even dare bring you up to other people? I'm embarrassed by you!"

The cut on my face started to bleed. It felt sticky, the warmth slowly turning cold.

I felt so cold. My whole body was freezing.

I thought of my manager making my life a living hell, dumping everyone else's unfinished work on me. I was the only one working until midnight for the exact same salary, all because he knew I was desperate to pay off my husband's debts and wouldn't dare quit.

I was afraid Nolan would worry, so I never told him about any of it.

But now, my deepest wounds had become the very weapons the person I loved most was using to stab me.

I looked at them coldly, my voice hoarse.

"Nolan Pierce, as of today, we are done."

He froze for a second: "What?"

"You think eight million is too much? Fine. The money you owe me, the blood you made me shed—I will collect it all in court, penny by penny."

And the marital assets. Including the company he started with my money, the profits from all these years, the houses, cars, and bags he bought for Vanessa. I was going to take half of everything.

Vanessa's head snapped up: "In your dreams!"

I didn't answer. I just turned around and walked toward the main doors, step by step.

With every step, my face throbbed.

With every step, I bled.

But I kept my back perfectly straight. A person can fall down, but they must never bend the knee.

As for whether I was dreaming—I didn't need to answer her. I trusted my lawyer would give her the answer.