The Wife He Couldn’t Buy Back

Harriet's POV: I hadn't always been so accommodating about my husband Alexander Walker's affairs. The first time he cheated, I threw the hotel bill in his face and demanded to know whether he still remembered the vows he'd made in church. We'd met at 15, fallen in love at 18, and married at 23. The day before our wedding, I'd cried at my mother's grave. Alexander had held me in his arms and promised that from then on, I'd never have to face anything alone again. By our 5th year of marriage, he'd already forgotten that promise. I smashed his watch. I stayed up until the middle of the night waiting for him in the garage. Back then, I genuinely believed that if I fought hard enough, he'd eventually remember promising to love me for the rest of his life. Then Daisy Miller came along. She was his newly hired assistant, with long, pale-blond hair and a fondness for white dresses. When she lowered her head, she looked almost exactly like a younger version of me. Alexander brought her to a charity gala. Old friends we'd known for years stood clutching their champagne glasses, awkwardly averting their eyes when I walked in. Meanwhile, Daisy stood with her arm linked through Alexander's, casually straightening his bow tie as though she'd done it a thousand times before. I'd done that a thousand times too. Standing at the ballroom entrance, I suddenly couldn't even summon the strength to walk over to them. That night, I asked for a divorce. The following day, my mother-in-law, Vanessa Walker, called and invited me to lunch at her home on Harbor Isle. "Harriet, you've been married to Alexander for 10 years, and you've invested your own money in the company. Now he's sleeping with his assistant. Why should you be the one to walk away?" She pushed that year's dividend statement across the table and pointed to the figure at the bottom. "Alexander may be a bastard, but he knows how to make money. The inheritance your mother left you has multiplied several times over in his hands." She continued, "Your father's still ill. If he hears you're getting divorced, he'll only worry himself sick. And your stepmother Victoria? She'll probably pop open a bottle of champagne to celebrate. "Besides, who knows how long you'll be fighting over the assets if you get divorced? Is putting yourself through all that really worth it over Daisy?" Vanessa set down her dinner knife. "Stop fighting with him. From now on, whenever he upsets you, I'll make it up to you." For more than six months, I listened to her reasoning, but I still couldn't bring myself to swallow my anger. Then, one day, I got caught in the rain and came down with a high fever. When I woke up, I reached for the phone beside my pillow. There wasn't a single message from Alexander. I typed. Harriet: When are you coming home? I stared at the words for a moment before deleting them. Then I called the butler and asked him to bring me a glass of water. I hadn't even taken my medicine yet. I simply didn't have the energy to fight with Alexander anymore. A husband's love could fade. Money in the bank wouldn't disappear just because he'd fallen for someone else. From that day on, I started taking Vanessa's advice. The $10 million she'd transferred to me that evening was exactly the compensation she'd promised. I moved the money into my investment account, instructed the butler to have someone clean up the living room, and went upstairs to take a shower. By the time I came out, my 9-year-old son, Burnell Walker, was home from school. He sat at the dining table doing his homework, without so much as a glance at the shattered porcelain still scattered across the floor. "You're home," I said. He looked up and nodded. "Good evening, Mom." He was always polite but distant with me, just like his father. I poured myself a glass of warm milk and was about to go upstairs when Burnell called after me. "Are you coming to the parent-teacher meeting on Friday?" "I'm pregnant, and I haven't been feeling well. Let your father take care of it." Sure enough, Daisy showed up at our door on Friday morning. Her pregnancy was already quite noticeable. The moment she saw me, her fingers tightened around the strap of her handbag. "Mrs. Walker." "Please take Burnell to school." She froze for a moment before forcing a smile. "Of course. I've been with him several times already. All the teachers know me." I knew that. I even knew that a newly hired teacher had once mistaken Daisy for Burnell's mother. And my son hadn't bothered to correct her. I turned toward the home gym, but Burnell hurried two steps after me. "Mom, Daisy's pregnant too. How come she can go and you can't?" "Because I'm tired, Burnell. I need to rest too." He looked as though he wanted to argue, but I didn't give him the chance. "Besides, didn't you tell me Daisy was gentle, that she never embarrassed you, and that you'd rather have her around? I just want you to be happy, sweetheart." Burnell parted his lips, but this time, he couldn't find a single word to say.