Chapter 3Calling in Sick for My Broke Husband, Only to Find the CEO

By the time I walked out of the law firm, it was completely dark.

I endured the pain and went home. The second I walked in, I saw an open suitcase in the middle of the living room.

Nolan was packing his clothes. Vanessa was sitting on the couch.

"You're back?"

Nolan looked up at me. His tone was as calm as if nothing had happened.

"Perfect timing. I need to tell you something."

"Vanessa's health has always been fragile. Your slap today triggered her heart condition."

"The doctor said she needs someone to take care of her. I'm going to stay with her for a few days."

I picked up a box of condoms from the corner of his suitcase. "Did her cardiologist prescribe these, too?"

He impatiently snatched the box out of my hand.

"It got tangled in my shirts and fell in by accident. I didn't even notice. You're just being paranoid."

"I know you're in a bad mood today, so I'm not going to argue with you. Vanessa needs me right now. I'll explain everything when I get back."

Needs.

When he needed me, I was always there.

When I needed him, he was with someone else.

Is that fair?

No.

But marriage has never been about fairness; it's about willingness.

I was willing for seven years. Now, my heart was dead, and my love was gone.

"Okay," I said, turning and walking into the bedroom.

I opened the closet and started packing his things.

When I got to the framed photos, my hands paused.

It was our wedding photo.

I was smiling so brightly. His eyes were full of light.

"Eleanor, what are you doing?"

He followed me in, a trace of panic finally bleeding into his voice.

"Weren't you leaving?"

I didn't look back. I threw the framed photo into the trash can.

"I'm helping you pack, saving you a trip."

"I told you it's only for a few days—"

"Then don't ever come back. Take your stuff, take the person who needs you, and get out."

Nolan fished the frame out of the trash and carefully placed it back on the nightstand. "Stop throwing a tantrum. Once she's better, I promise I'll come right back."

Vanessa appeared in the bedroom doorway.

"Nolan, I have a new project I want you to invest in. It's guaranteed to make a massive return. I sent the business plan to your phone, take a look."

Nolan barely even glanced at it before casually replying: "Don't worry about it, I don't need to read it. I'll have accounting wire you ten million tomorrow."

Before his phone screen went dark, my sharp eyes caught the header of the business plan.

This was Vanessa's tenth startup attempt.

Ten million dollars. How long would I have to stand at a cash register, how much code would I have to write, just to earn that?

I could probably work myself to death and never see that kind of money.

I thought of the news stories about 32-year-old tech workers dropping dead from exhaustion. If I hadn't discovered the truth and kept breaking my back to pay his fake debts, that probably would have been my fate.

Hearing his answer, Vanessa looked at me, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Eleanor, why are you sneaking peeks at my business plan? Do you want to start a company too?"

I didn't expect her to catch my gaze despite my efforts to hide it.

Nolan glanced at me. "Don't joke around. She doesn't have the brains for it. She can't even tell a bull market from a bear market. If she actually tried trading, she'd buy high and sell low every time. She's destined to be a corporate drone for the rest of her life."

I coldly cut him off: "Are you done?"

He froze.

I pointed at the door. "If you're done, get out. Get out of my apartment!"

"Eleanor, this is our—"

"No, this is mine. I pay the rent. I pay the water, electricity, and gas. I bought the furniture and the appliances. Other than living here for seven years, what exactly have you contributed?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat.

Because I was telling the truth.

For the past seven years, not only did I transfer him a thousand dollars a month to pay his "debts," but I also covered every single household expense.

I even pinched pennies just to buy him expensive suits and watches, terrified his coworkers or friends would look down on him.

And the truth? He was rich. Filthy rich. He played me for a fool while throwing millions at another woman, and called her "just a friend"!

Nolan's tone turned icy: "Fine. I'm leaving. Don't regret this!"

"Get out!"

The front door slammed shut. The apartment was suddenly dead silent.

It was too quiet. I could hear the hum of the refrigerator. I could hear my own heartbeat.

I slowly sank to the floor. The tears fell, hitting the hardwood floor. One drop. Two drops.

I covered my face and sobbed uncontrollably.

I don't know how much time passed, but my phone vibrated.

I picked it up. It was a photo from an unknown number.

On a large hotel bed, Nolan was fast asleep. Vanessa's face was pressed against his chest.

There was a line of text below the photo: "Thanks for stepping aside."

I stared at that photo for a very, very long time.

Then I typed back: "Thanks for taking out the trash."

Message sent.

The private investigator had told me Nolan was extremely careful and he had never been able to get concrete evidence of infidelity.

Now I had it.