Chapter 2The Debt Lie—Billionaire Wife vs. Broke Husband

Right after we graduated, she was ready to drop everything and follow me into the desolate deserts of the northwest for my work.

But then came the cave-in.

She threw herself over me, taking the brunt of the impact before being knocked unconscious. I clawed through the rubble with my bare hands until they were raw and bleeding, crawling out on my last breath to scream for help.

When I woke up, something in her had changed. A glacial shift.

We were penniless back then. Her surgery was expensive. I swallowed my pride and went to my teammates, borrowing from everyone I could. I scraped together just enough to cover her costs. My own broken leg, I just gritted my teeth and bore the pain. To this day, it aches deep in the bone whenever the rain comes.

That fifteen hundred dollars for her surgery. It’s laughable. To the real Alison, it was less than the cost of a bottle of wine.

But she watched, cold and silent, as that pittance of a debt nearly broke my back.

That was also when Jerry appeared, introduced as her “childhood friend.” He swept into our small desert town like a prince, all flash and money, turning every head. He repeatedly came to my dig site to cause trouble, belittling my work and my skills.

Once, he complained he was cold. To keep him warm, Alison threw my archaeology journals into the fire.

Those were my field notes—months of sleepless nights, the very key to my application for a global fellowship. The same notes she once treasured, helping me organize them every night. With one careless word from Jerry, they were reduced to ash.

Alison didn’t even blink. “He comes from a noble family. He’s bound to be a bit arrogant. Just bear with it.”

I thought she was still angry, blaming me for the accident. I spent that time trying to win her back, trying to please her in every way, even offering myself to her.

In our shabby rented room, she rediscovered a certain hunger. For a month, she didn’t let me leave that room. We plumbed the depths of desperation and desire.

Her mood softened. She suggested we return to the capital so she could start her business. I resigned immediately and followed her back.

I never expected it would lead to this.

Alison buried her face in my chest, her voice a low murmur. “Darling, Jerry is a kind person. Just beg him properly. I’m sure he’ll let you go back to work. You’ve been on a construction site for five years. No one else will hire you.”

She was pushing me into hell, all while pretending it was for my own good.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I shoved her away and stormed out.

Back at our "home," I started packing. For five years, to save money, we had lived in a cramped tin-walled shack on the construction site. One room, shared with six other guys.

The only space that was ours was a single, small bed, curtained off for a sliver of privacy.

Alison was often out late, working “odd jobs,” she said. She rarely slept here. I thought she was being considerate, knowing how cramped it was for two. Now I realized it was pure disdain.

She only came back when she wanted sex. She was never quiet. The entire shack could hear everything. And when she was finished, she would leave, leaving me alone to face the leering, knowing glances of the other men. The men on the site were lonely. They weren’t picky. And I was fair-skinned. I endured more than my share of humiliation.

The memory brought a fresh wave of shameful tears.

Alison burst in and saw me packing. Her face contorted with rage. “You’re actually quitting? What, you’re too proud for this work now? What’s next, are you going to leave me, too?”

I turned, my gaze locking onto hers. “It’s not that I don’t want you anymore. It’s that I can’t afford you, Miss Shaw.”

She saw the tears streaming down my face and froze, a flicker of fear in her eyes. “You… you know?”

That fleeting expression. It was so familiar. It was the look of the university student I fell in love with, the one who looked at me with such aching tenderness.

I met her in our sophomore year. She pursued me relentlessly. Back then, she was the vibrant, popular girl on campus. I was an orphan who had to fight for everything. We were worlds apart. I didn’t have the courage to start a relationship with no clear future.

But she never gave up. She was just… there. A quiet presence while I studied, took exams, worked part-time jobs.

Then, in our junior year, she told me her family had gone bankrupt. She asked if she could stay with me. I opened my life to her without reservation. I found her part-time work, taught her how to handle difficult customers and unreasonable bosses. Naturally, we fell in love.

Just before we graduated, she worked for three months at a bar, enduring countless indignities, to buy me a necklace. It was a simple chain with a plain silver band, plated in gold, hanging from it.

She knew my ambitions were vast. She said she didn’t want to trap me in marriage. She said that whenever I felt ready for a home, I should just put on that ring, and she would come running to marry me.

I laughed at her then. “What makes you so sure I’ll ask?”

She hugged me tightly. “I, Alison Shaw, will marry no one but Adrian Croft in this life.” She paused. “But… if you ever decide you don’t want me, you can use this ring to ask for one favor instead.”

“Any favor?”

She nodded solemnly. “Even if you asked for my life, I would give it to you.”

The memory of that happiness shattered, revealing the twisted face of the woman before me now. She grabbed my throat, the ring on the necklace digging painfully into my skin. She pushed me onto the bed, her hands tearing at my clothes.