3
That day, Ethan insisted I join them in a
racing game.
Jenny gave me a triumphant smile. The next
<
second, she slammed the accelerator, her car
crashing into mine.
I rolled on the ground in pain, but heard Ethan
say impatiently, “She’s young and doesn’t
know any better, it was just a joke.”
They left me on the side of the track and
drove off.
I lost the baby. During my recuperation in the
hospital, Jenny posted numerous videos of
her vacation in the Maldives.
Ethan and I had shared beautiful moments.
When we first married, Ethan would bring me
treats from my favorite bakery, and he’d
tiptoe around at night, afraid to wake me. I’d
thought this marriage, arranged by my
grandfather, would give me a home.
But my father felt I’d married into wealth and
relentlessly demanded money from the
Shermans.
Even at a crucial business presentation, my
father stormed the venue, demanding more money from Ethan.
“Ethan! My daughter married you, and this is how you treat your father–in–law? Give me another fifty thousand, or I’ll tell the media my daughter has someone else!”
The presentation was ruined. My father later
had a drunk driving accident, and Ethan didn’t
even attend the funeral.
These memories flooded back, and I wept.
Late one night, I spiked a high fever of 102.4.
In my delirium, I seemed to see Ethan sitting
by my bed, his brow furrowed. When I awoke,
he was gone.
I opened my Facebook and saw Jenny’s latest
post. Ethan had bought her a yacht, naming it
“Jenny’s Pride.”
The phone rang, interrupting my thoughts.
“Mrs. Sherman, this is Alex from Royal
“”
Ponquet Planning A cheerful voice
answered. “Mr. Sherman specifically requested we book the best venue for your baby’s 100–day celebration, and we’ve also arranged a professional photography team… I hung up, my throat thick with emotion.
On my discharge day, nobody came to pick
me up. I took a taxi back to the mansion, my body still recovering.
I opened the door to find Jenny lounging on the sofa, sipping bird’s nest soup. A maid
knelt at her feet, massaging her.
“Oh, you’re back?” She glanced at me, a
mocking smile on her lips.
Ethan came down the stairs, frowning at my
arrival. “Lily, from today, you’re responsible
for Jenny’s meals. She’s experiencing severe
morning sickness…
وو
Before he could finish, I headed for the
basement.
“Bang!”
“”
<
Ethan kicked my suitcase across the room,
clothes scattering everywhere.
He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up. “I’m talking to you, are you deaf?”
I met his eyes, my voice surprisingly calm. “Since Jenny is pregnant, let’s just get a divorce. I’ll move out, you take care of her.” He froze, then erupted in rage, pinning me against the wall. “Lily! What are you playing at?”
His breath hit my face. “Don’t worry, as long as you behave, you’ll always be Mrs.
Sherman.‘
دو
“Ha…” I laughed, tears welling up.
For eight years, this title had only made me a
laughingstock.
I learned Michelin–level cooking to please
him, only to find him flirting with other women
at restaurants. I tried to dress to his liking,
only to hear him mock my attempts on the
phone.
Ethan’s expression faltered for a second,
then hardened again. “Lily, don’t push your luck.”
I bent to gather my belongings, noticing a
half–visible photo in my suitcase
–
from our
wedding day. Ethan smiled gently, as if he
had truly loved me once.
As I reached the door, my phone rang. “Hello? Are you a relative of Mary Johnson? She fell and was brought to our hospital; we suspect a brain hematoma, and might need
surgery. Please come immediately.”
My blood ran cold.
