From Ignored Wife to Divorcée: His Sudden Regret After Three Years

During her third year working there, when Wyatt Bloodsworth was dispatched to the port city, Lyra Prescott placed her very first phone call to him. Over the line, she relayed every single detail the physician had shared regarding her mother's critical medical state. "The septicemia is severe, and she could slip away at any second. Because of this, she must return to New York right away." Surprisingly, Wyatt remained entirely indifferent upon hearing the news, offering only a frigid response through the receiver: "Lyra, you aren't a medical professional." The underlying message was clear-her presence would change nothing. Of course, Lyra understood that she lacked medical training and couldn't heal anyone. Yet, this was her own mother. In a crisis like this, her only desire was to be by her side. Thus, despite having spent years blindly following Wyatt's orders without a shred of defiance, she gathered her bravery and spoke up: "I need to return to be with her. It will only be a brief absence, I promise it won't disrupt my duties." Caught off guard by her insistence, Wyatt went quiet for a second. After all, Lyra had never presumed to reject his wishes before. Following a brief pause, his voice returned, dropping to an even frostier tone: "She hasn't passed away yet." The cruelty of his words cut deep. Even though Lyra was accustomed to his harshness, this was too much to bear: "How can you say something so heartless?" Wyatt completely brushed off her outrage, retorting with cold impatience, "Remember your place. You don't have the authority to speak to me in that manner." Just like the past three years, he remained completely indifferent to her emotions, her mind, and her very existence. They lived more like total strangers than a married couple. Lyra found it impossible to comprehend. He had been the one to ask for her hand in marriage, right after she had endured such a devastating tragedy. Even when he discovered she was infertile, he was the one who suggested adoption... A sudden pang pierced her heart. Suppressing her pain, Lyra attempted to plead once more: "Wyatt, please, I'm begging you, I-" "That's enough," he cut her off abruptly. Wyatt's patience on the other end of the line had clearly run out. "Lyra, you are well aware of how I am. My decision is final. If you choose to go back to New York, you can hand in your resignation at Bloodsworth's Group." With that final ultimatum, he abruptly cut the line. Staring at the disconnected screen as the dial tone droned, a suffocating ache tightened in Lyra's chest. Over her three-year tenure in the port city, she hadn't requested a single day of leave, pouring every ounce of her time and strength into her duties. Under her leadership, the Bloodsworth family had secured a powerful position in the port city, and she had personally engineered countless biotech patents and cutting-edge innovations. She had foolishly thought that even if their marriage meant nothing, their professional partnership would hold some weight. Clearly, she had miscalculated. If that was how things stood, leaving the company was her only option. She logged into the portal, typed in her details, and filed her resignation-completing the entire process without a second thought. Once it was submitted, she immediately secured a red-eye flight back to New York. The plane touched down in New York at six o'clock in the morning. Racing straight to the hospital, she listened as the physician thoroughly broke down her mother's diagnosis. The patient was suffering from acute leukemia of an unidentified origin. While her vitals were temporarily stabilized, she remained in critical condition, facing an arduous road of subsequent medical interventions like chemotherapy and bone marrow transplants. Financially, the medical bills would demand a minimum of 3 million dollars. Tears pricked Lyra's eyes as she gazed at the washed-out, weakened woman resting on the ward bed. In truth, she wasn't the biological child of Andrea Sachs and Archer Prescott; they had taken her in when she was a little girl. Even so, Andrea had raised her with the unconditional love of a real mother throughout her entire life. Looking back, it felt as though her mother's life had been an endless cycle of hardship. First, she labored to provide for Lyra, and later, she was forced to clear the gambling debts accumulated by Archer Prescott. Even during this sudden medical emergency, her life was saved only because a nearby resident chanced upon her unconscious body and dialed emergency services... Lyra shuddered to think what would have occurred had no one noticed her. Since her mother was in an aseptic room, the medical staff restricted her visiting time. After running through a list of necessary safety measures, the doctor firmly reiterated the need to secure the funds, emphasizing that fighting this disease required immense financial backing. Slumped on a corridor bench, Lyra mentally tallied her accumulated finances from the past few years. Despite her modest lifestyle and minimal personal spending, her meager income meant her bank account held a mere $42,000. Against a staggering three million, her savings were nothing more than a drop in the bucket. Faced with such an astronomical sum, she was backed into a corner. Once everything at the medical center was settled, she hailed a cab heading for Belgravia Heights. That was the location of Wyatt's estate. Excluding their wedding day, this marked only her second time visiting the property. The housekeeper who answered the door failed to recognize who she was and insisted on checking inside before granting entry. Waiting by the entrance, the bright sounds of laughter drifted to Lyra's ears through a crystal bead curtain. The voices belonged to a woman and a young boy. While the female voice was unfamiliar, she knew the boy had to be Zane Bloodsworth, the son Wyatt had taken in. The thought of the boy brought a sudden warmth to her heart. Even though they shared no blood relation and she had only ever seen his face in pictures rather than in person, her role as his legal mother sparked a deep, instinctive wave of maternal affection. She was just beginning to muse over what presents she might buy him when the laughter inside abruptly ceased. The maid returned to escort her into the residence. Upon walking into the main parlor, Lyra discovered three individuals gathered on the couch: Wyatt, a sophisticatedly dressed woman, and young Zane. Wyatt was clad in a deep-colored suit and a coordinating tie, his hair neatly swept back. With his defined brows, piercingly bright eyes, and stark, angular features, he commanded the room with the undeniable presence of a powerful leader. The past three years had lent him an air of greater maturity and a far more intimidating gravity. Yet, as she approached, he offered no greeting whatsoever. His gaze never left his mobile device, keeping his head firmly down. Though his screen was inundated with corporate notifications, he casually bypassed reading them and tapped to grant bulk approval. The lady seated next to him remained equally quiet, sweeping an icy, analytical gaze over Lyra. Her look held no confusion, proving she knew exactly who Lyra was. Instead, it was Zane, perched beside the woman, who broke the silence: "Mom, who's that? She looks so plain and heavy. Is she a friend of yours and Dad's? You always tell me that we should only mix with people from our own class. Why would you ever be friends with someone like her?" A child's blunt remarks possess a brutal honesty that cuts the deepest. Lyra flushed with intense humiliation. Her demanding career over the last few years had forced her into endless overtime and terrible eating habits, wrecking her health and causing her weight to balloon by dozens of pounds. However, the physical insult paled in comparison to the shock of hearing Zane utter the word "Mom." If that title belonged to the stranger sitting on the sofa, then what role did Lyra play? Before Lyra could vocalize her confusion, the elegant woman intervened. Stroking Zane's hair with calm patience, she corrected him softly: "Zane, remember what we talked about? I'm not your mother. You should address me as Aunt. Your real mother is right over there." She extended a finger directly toward Lyra. The boy's expression instantly soured with revulsion. Folding his arms with blatant arrogance, he sneered, "Hmph. She's definitely not my mom. There's no way I'm letting this hideous, overweight old lady be my mother. Make her leave." An icy stillness instantly locked the room. Rather than trying to smooth over the child's hostility, the woman merely cast a smug, provocative glance at Lyra. As Lyra opened her mouth to address the situation, Wyatt finally broke his silence. "Maddy, bring Zane up to his room," he instructed. Lyra had never once heard him employ such a soft, gentle tone. A wave of bitterness washed over Lyra's tongue as the puzzle pieces fell into place: this woman had to be Maddy Bloodsworth, Wyatt's younger sister and the adopted daughter of the household. Maddy had been absent during their wedding, meaning Lyra was aware of her but had never looked upon her face until now. Meeting her face-to-face, Lyra noted that she mirrored Wyatt's disposition-distinctly frosty, detached, and utterly unyielding. Curiously, her facial features bore a striking seventy-to-eighty percent resemblance to the boy beside her. Obeying Wyatt's directive, Maddy promptly guided Zane toward the staircase. Once they had departed, Wyatt finally shifted his focus toward Lyra, their eyes locking in a heavy stare. Right at that exact second, a chime rang out from Lyra's phone-a system notification confirming that her request to resign had officially been processed and approved.