Chapter 7 · My Perfect Husband's Hidden Betrayal

"Michael," I said, "how much are your body and your company worth?"

Michael's expression grew even sullen.

"Don't go too far," he said.

"I'm the one who's going too far?" I stood up and threw the bank statements right in his face.

"You spent over 600 thousand dollars on another woman, bought her an apartment, raised her daughter as your own, and now you have the nerve to tell me I'm the one who's going too far?"

"It's not easy for Vanessa to raise her kid all alone..."

"Oh, so raising your child was supposed to be easy for me?" My voice shook uncontrollably. "Where were you when I carried Oliver for nine months? Where were you when I was in labor for fourteen hours?

"Where were you when Oliver had a fever in the middle of the night and I was holding him, waiting in line at the ER? You were in Nalita. You were celebrating Vanessa's daughter's birthday. You were buying her a fancy cake!"

Michael's expression slightly changed for a moment, but he quickly regained that self-righteous look. "I've never treated you badly. Have I ever skimped on anything for you?

"You live in a 1,600-square-foot house, drive a 100,000-dollar car, and I've always made sure you had enough for household expenses every month—"

"And then what?" I cut him off. "You gave Vanessa everything else? I live in a 1,600-square-foot house, while she gets an apartment you bought outright.

"I drive a 100,000-dollar car, while she wears a 12,000-dollar bracelet. My son wears cheap clothes, while her daughter wears designer clothes. I get the freebies, while she gets the real deal.

"Michael, do you really think that's fair?"

He fell silent.

"You think that's unfair?" He finally spoke after a long pause. "Do you know how long I tried to win Vanessa over? A year and a half.

"I made her soup when she was on her period, did her laundry, ran errands, and so on. I did everything for her. And in the end, she still married someone else. Do you have any idea what that year and a half was like for me?"

"So what? So I just have to be a substitute? Your tool?"

"I never treated you like a tool," he said, his tone suddenly softening. "Erica, haven't I been good to you?

"I washed your underwear, made you soup when you were on your period, and was there for every holiday. What more could I have done?"

I suddenly felt exhausted.

Michael would never understand. He thought washing my underwear was love, making me soup was love, and that doing these little things was enough.

He had no clue that love wasn't washing my underwear for me while buying an apartment for someone else. Love wasn't spending holidays with me, but making sure to be with another woman first.

All those "perfect husband" acts were just a performance. The audience was me, his colleagues, his friends, and his whole social circle.

He needed that "perfect husband" persona to keep up appearances, just like he needed to be a big shot at a state-owned company to keep his status.

But Vanessa was the only one he didn't have to pretend for.

In front of her, he was genuine, humble, practically groveling at her feet.

And me? I didn't even deserve to stand in front of him.

"Let's get a divorce," I said.

Michael froze. "What did you say?"

"Divorce. I said divorce."

"Are you crazy?" He jumped up, his voice suddenly loud. "Just because of this? Erica, don't you think you're being overly sensitive?"

"Overly sensitive?" I looked him dead in the eye, saying each word slowly. "I was two months pregnant with our second child, and I had an abortion yesterday."

His face drained of all color. "What did you just say?"

"I said, I ended the pregnancy," I replied, my voice steady. "I don't want my child to have a father who's in love with someone else, and I'm done being your tool.

"Michael, I don't care about your body or your company anymore. Go spend your money and your love on whoever you please."

Michael stood there, looking like his soul had been sucked right out of him. His lips moved a few times before he finally managed to speak. "W-Why didn't you discuss this with me?"

"Discuss what? Whether we should keep this baby? And then what? You'd keep handing all your money to Vanessa and fobbing me off with freebies?

"I'd be left raising two kids while you're out buying her daughter the real stuff? Michael, keep dreaming."

Chapter 7

"Michael," I said, "how much are your body and your company worth?"

Michael's expression grew even sullen.

"Don't go too far," he said.

"I'm the one who's going too far?" I stood up and threw the bank statements right in his face.

"You spent over 600 thousand dollars on another woman, bought her an apartment, raised her daughter as your own, and now you have the nerve to tell me I'm the one who's going too far?"

"It's not easy for Vanessa to raise her kid all alone..."

Michael's expression slightly changed for a moment, but he quickly regained that self-righteous look. "I've never treated you badly. Have I ever skimped on anything for you?

"You live in a 1,600-square-foot house, drive a 100,000-dollar car, and I've always made sure you had enough for household expenses every month—"

"And then what?" I cut him off. "You gave Vanessa everything else? I live in a 1,600-square-foot house, while she gets an apartment you bought outright.

"I drive a 100,000-dollar car, while she wears a 12,000-dollar bracelet. My son wears cheap clothes, while her daughter wears designer clothes. I get the freebies, while she gets the real deal.

"Michael, do you really think that's fair?"

He fell silent.

"You think that's unfair?" He finally spoke after a long pause. "Do you know how long I tried to win Vanessa over? A year and a half.

"So what? So I just have to be a substitute? Your tool?"

"I never treated you like a tool," he said, his tone suddenly softening. "Erica, haven't I been good to you?

"I washed your underwear, made you soup when you were on your period, and was there for every holiday. What more could I have done?"

I suddenly felt exhausted.

Michael would never understand. He thought washing my underwear was love, making me soup was love, and that doing these little things was enough.

He had no clue that love wasn't washing my underwear for me while buying an apartment for someone else. Love wasn't spending holidays with me, but making sure to be with another woman first.

All those "perfect husband" acts were just a performance. The audience was me, his colleagues, his friends, and his whole social circle.

He needed that "perfect husband" persona to keep up appearances, just like he needed to be a big shot at a state-owned company to keep his status.

But Vanessa was the only one he didn't have to pretend for.

In front of her, he was genuine, humble, practically groveling at her feet.

And me? I didn't even deserve to stand in front of him.

"Let's get a divorce," I said.

Michael froze. "What did you say?"

"Divorce. I said divorce."

"Are you crazy?" He jumped up, his voice suddenly loud. "Just because of this? Erica, don't you think you're being overly sensitive?"

"Overly sensitive?" I looked him dead in the eye, saying each word slowly. "I was two months pregnant with our second child, and I had an abortion yesterday."

His face drained of all color. "What did you just say?"

"I said, I ended the pregnancy," I replied, my voice steady. "I don't want my child to have a father who's in love with someone else, and I'm done being your tool.

"Michael, I don't care about your body or your company anymore. Go spend your money and your love on whoever you please."

Michael stood there, looking like his soul had been sucked right out of him. His lips moved a few times before he finally managed to speak. "W-Why didn't you discuss this with me?"

"Discuss what? Whether we should keep this baby? And then what? You'd keep handing all your money to Vanessa and fobbing me off with freebies?

"I'd be left raising two kids while you're out buying her daughter the real stuff? Michael, keep dreaming."