He Faked Poverty, I Dumped Him & Returned

Chapter 3

"What's the matter? Did Olivia hit a nerve? Can't handle being poor? You've only got yourself to blame for not being more capable. Olivia's a PhD who studied abroad. You don't even have an undergraduate degree."

I was once a student at a prestigious university. But the year I was supposed to graduate, Jacob's mother fell seriously ill.

To help cover her medical bills, I took on part-time work wherever I could find it. I missed too many classes. I lost my degree, and with it, my guaranteed spot in a master's program.

After graduation, the only work I could find was teaching at an ordinary institution.

He, of all people, had no right to mock my education.

Tears soaked my pillow as I clenched the blanket, then released it, over and over.

All the grievances I wanted to scream boiled down to a single, exhausted sentence: "Sleep early. I'm tired. I need to look for a job tomorrow."

Because of my missing degree and the scandal around that painting, most companies wouldn't even consider me.

After days of frantic searching, only one place offered an interview. It was for a cleaning position.

The conversation with HR went well, and they asked me to start the next day.

Finally, a job. I waited for the elevator, and my heart lit with relief. A group of people in crisp suits pushed past me.

Then I saw a figure at the center of them, and my blood ran cold.

It was Jacob.

But the older man beside him called him Noah.

Hands trembling, I pulled out my phone and searched.

To my surprise, the company's legal representative was named Noah Martinez.

But the man they called Noah... was unmistakably Jacob.

The name felt familiar. Then it hit me: when I'd taken out a loan to buy a house for our marriage, the real estate developer had the same surname, Martinez.

The impact nearly knocked me off my feet. Despair, pure and absolute, crashed over me.

The man I had loved all these years, the man I'd sacrificed everything for, hadn't even given me his real name.

No wonder that time I'd joked about the property developer sharing his surname, he'd snapped at me for being paranoid.

The elevator doors opened. But I couldn't even move, as if my legs were frozen right there. Through the glass walls of the transparent lift, I watched him ascend.

He turned his head, glancing at something the HR manager held. My breath caught in my throat.

That was my resume.

Against all reason, a faint spark of hope flickered in my chest. I wanted to see his reaction.

Just as he reached for the paper, Olivia snatched it away with a laugh and said something that I could never know.

His attention drifted. The spark died.

'What am I actually expecting? Did I really think a liar like him would feel guilt?'

On my way home, my phone rang. It was the woman from that HR department.

The voice on the other end was thick with apology. "Sorry, due to certain circumstances, we are unable to hire you. The previous offer has been rescinded."

When I pressed for a reason, the woman on the other side complained, "Have you ever offended someone?"

In an instant, an icy chill spread through my entire body. Everything became clear. All my efforts, all my struggle, are nothing more than a joke to them.

But why would they treat me this way? Why would they strip away my last shred of dignity, my last glimmer of hope?

Stumbling, I pushed open the door to our shabby apartment. There was Jacob. He had prepared a full table of dishes and was waiting for me. For a moment, I felt disoriented, as if we'd slipped back to a time before all the lies, before the betrayal.

"Wifey, you've worked so hard. I cooked everything myself. How did the job search go today? I know you've been exhausted lately. I was wrong the other day. I shouldn't have lost my temper. Please forgive me, Ella."

The warm embrace made my nose sting. Jacob had never been able to cook. I looked at the messy plates on the table, at the fresh blisters burnt into his hands. The grievances inside me dissolved a little. Against my will, I was moved.

So I decided to give him one more chance. If he was willing to be honest with me now, I would forgive everything.

"Where did you go today?"

The hand serving me rice stopped midair. The tender man from a moment ago vanished, replaced by an irritated monster. "Are you done yet? What exactly are you doubting?"

Disappointment swallowed the last of my feelings. I looked at this man, the man I had loved for so many years and spent my youth on. I could feel my heart die inside already.

My mother's words from that day came back to me, the part she'd added at the very end: "I'll give you three years. If you regret it, come home. You are still my only daughter."

Two days left until the three-year deadline.

I dialed the number I hadn't called in what felt like a lifetime. "Come home, Ella. In three days, I'll throw you a welcome party."

After dawn broke, I packed my things and prepared to leave. But at the door, an unexpected figure was waiting.