Chapter 1
Every time my husband, William Reed, sneaked off for a rendezvous with his long-cherished love, Melissa Carter, he had this way of trying to appease me—by sending me a hefty sum of money.
As of now, the count stood at 97 times, with each transfer amounting to 143 thousand dollars.
For the majority of those transfers, I'd play the part of the heartbroken wife. But as the 97th transfer landed in my account, I simply accepted it without a flicker of emotion on my face.
With each transfer came a demand. And today was no different.
"Melissa's crazy about bouillabaisse. Whip it up and bring it to my office," William said.
So, I got to work, carefully preparing the bouillabaisse. With the dish in hand, I made my way to William's office. But once I was there, Melissa, without a shred of courtesy, took the bouillabaisse and fed it right to the dog.
*****
In a burst of anger, I sent the lunchbox flying off the table.
Hot soup splattered onto Melissa's hand, and she shrieked, "Ouch, that's hot!"
But before I could say anything, the instant she cried out, William tossed aside his papers and hurried over, cradling her hand and checking it with worry.
Melissa pouted, saying, "William, look! My hands are all red, and it hurts!"
There wasn't even a mark on her finger, but she played the victim like it was the end of the world.
What stung the most was how William actually looked worried about her.
He gently blew on her finger, like that would magically fix everything.
Then he glanced up at me, shooting me a look full of blame.
"Joyce, couldn't you have waited until it wasn't so hot before bringing it?" William said, his tone frosty.
I met his cold stare, completely at a loss for words.
When it was hot, Melissa whined that it was burning.
When it cooled down, she grumbled that it was cold.
Was I really the one at fault here, or was Melissa just impossible to please?
Faced with William's baseless accusations, I managed a wry smile.
"If she doesn't want it, she could've just left it alone. Why feed it to her dog just to spite me?" I shot back.
That was when William finally noticed the food I'd made had been completely polished off by Melissa's dog.
He knew full well how hard it was to make bouillabaisse. I even burned myself learning to make it for him.
It seemed like William remembered all the effort I'd put in, but he just stood there and watched as the meal I'd spent all morning on got eaten by a dog.
He looked at the empty lunchbox, lips parted as if he wanted to apologize.
But then Melissa chimed in again, all innocent, "Sorry, Joyce. I honestly didn't notice Benny snatching your food. Hope you don't mind."
As soon as she said that, the hesitation on William's face disappeared, and he glared at me, clearly annoyed.
"Melissa didn't do it on purpose! Do you really have to make such a big deal out of it?" William snapped.
I looked at William's face—still young and handsome. Five years ago, that same face used to gaze at me with shy, tender eyes.
Back then, whenever he saw me, he couldn't look away—his eyes were always soft and full of love.
But now, all that was left in his eyes was irritation.
I was just stating the facts. And yet, he'd defend Melissa no matter what.
Did he even love me?
This was the ninety-eighth time. When it reached a hundred, I was out of here for good.
When I looked at William again, all that was left in my eyes was icy indifference.
"If you think I'm making a big deal out of it, then let's make a big deal," I said, my voice flat.
Not worth arguing anymore. I turned around, ready to walk away.
But William grabbed my hand, holding me back.
He frowned, something complicated flickering in his eyes, but in the end, he still chose to blame me.
"Joyce, so you're admitting you were picking on Melissa? Then go ahead and apologize to her. Now!"
I let out a sarcastic smile.
Whenever Melissa was around, William's so-called boundaries were just there to be broken.
Even if I hadn't done a thing wrong, he'd never admit it—he'd never budge.
Instead, he'd always strong-arm people into submission.
In his mind, he thought he was being generous, handing people an easy way out, and expected them to just go along with it.
But I was not just anyone—I was his wife, damn it!
Why was he always so gentle with Melissa, but couldn't ever show me a little kindness?
Annoyed, I shook off his hand.
"I didn't do anything wrong. I'm not apologizing!" I shot back.
William froze for a moment, then, almost automatically, pulled out his phone and sent me money right away.
"Isn't this what you want? Money? Here you go! Joyce, apologize to Melissa. Right now," William snapped.
I looked at him, stunned. How could he say something so cruel to me?
My family was never as rich as William's, but back when we were dating, he treated me so well.
He hated me working or being seen outside, so after we got married, I gave up my photography dreams and spent five years as a stay-at-home wife.
Whatever William wanted, I always did my best to make it happen.
But now, he was throwing money in my face like it could buy my dignity.
"Take your money back! I'm not apologizing!" I snapped.
I walked out without looking back; all he got was my back as I left.
I slowed down on purpose, waiting for him to chase after me.
But I didn't hear his footsteps—just Melissa's whimpering and his low, soothing words trying to comfort her.
Honestly, I couldn't even tell who his real wife was anymore.
Three days passed, and William didn't bother to say a word to me.
Those days, my mood was in the gutter. I could barely eat, and my stomach just kept hurting.
My old stomach issues were starting to flare up again.
William's mother, Megan Reed, even called just to nag me about having a baby.
Just hearing her voice made my stomach ache even worse.
Thankfully, once William realized I didn't get along with his mom, he made sure we got our own place.
I always thought William was on my side.
But ever since Melissa came back to the country, he had always sided with her.
Little by little, I stopped waiting for his calls.
But that night, my phone lit up with William's name on the screen.
It looked like he finally caved and called me.
I picked up, hoping to hear his explanation.
But when I answered, it was Melissa's voice on the other end, and my heart just dropped.
Melissa chirped sweetly, "Joyce, William's totally wasted. Can you come pick him up and take him home?"
At her words, a bitter laugh bubbled up inside me.
William hadn't come home once this whole week. He'd been spending all his time with Melissa, hadn't he?
Was she just trying to rub it in my face?
Just as I was about to say something, I heard William's drunken voice on the other end.
"Joyce? Where's Joyce? Joyce gets so damn stubborn when she's pissed. I can't even get a chance to patch things up with her.
"Doesn't she get that a guy's ego just won't let me apologize first? Why does she always have to fight me on everything?
"Joyce, can't you just chill out a little?"
William's words were all slurred, but I held my breath and listened to every word.
That was when it hit me—William actually wanted to make up with me, too.
But he was just too proud, and I was stubborn in my own way.
Neither of us was willing to give in.
Just as I was about to hang up, my phone chimed—a payment notification popped up.
This was the ninety-ninth time William had sent me money, but for the first time, it wasn't for Melissa—it was for me.
As William kept calling my name again and again, a smile appeared on my face—I just couldn't help it.
But Melissa was clearly not having it. She gave William a little smack with her hand.
"William, you actually want to make up with Joyce? Have you forgotten how she treated me?" Melissa whined, her voice both sulky and sweet.
As I heard Melissa's half-complaining, half-cutesy tone, my heart sank.
I wasn't about to let Melissa ruin the one chance we had to patch things up. Without hesitation, I grabbed my car keys and bolted out the door.
I sped all the way to the location Melissa sent me, my heart racing. It turned out to be a bar.