I Married Him to Save My Mom, Then Destroyed Him

Chapter 3 How Miserable

"Jeffrey, are you busy? I had dinner with some coworkers, but they've already left, and I can't get a car. Could you come pick me up?"

Camila's voice floated through the phone, sweet and soft and just a little pouty.

"Send me the address. I'm on my way."

Without a single second of hesitation, Jeffrey grabbed his coat and headed for the door, not even bothering to spare me a glance.

The living room plunged back into a dead silence. The half-empty glass of red wine on the table, the one he insisted on drinking every night to help him sleep, suddenly looked violently offensive.

I grabbed the bottle, downed the remaining wine in one gulp, and violently hurled the bottle, the glass, and the expensive watch Jeffrey had given me years ago onto the floor. Watching the glass shatter into a million pieces brought a surprisingly satisfying rush of relief.

Having not slept for two days and nights, I slept incredibly deeply.

In my dreams, I saw Jeffrey the first time he accompanied me to the hospital to visit my mother. He was perfectly polite, endlessly patient. Even my mother had smiled and told me I was blessed to have found him.

Then the dream shifted. My mother's condition had rapidly deteriorated. He stayed by my side outside the operating room for an entire night, making countless calls, pulling strings to fly in the most authoritative specialists for a consultation. In that moment, he felt like an invincible giant standing between me and the cruelties of the world, shielding me from all suffering.

The final image in my dream was his secretary. His voice was cold. He clearly and explicitly informed me that Jeffrey had decided to terminate all financial support for my mother's medical treatments.

I hadn't believed it. I called him over and over, frantically, desperately. He didn't answer a single one.

When I opened my eyes, the morning sunlight was spilling over me, the distant skyline shrouded in a soft, hazy mist.

It was rare for me to sleep all the way through until dawn.

I got up and walked into the living room. The red wine I had smashed the night before was pooled all over the floor, and the divorce agreement on the table was stained with it. Even if he signed it now, it would be invalid.

I had absolutely zero motivation to clean up the mess. I was just turning toward the study to print a fresh copy when I heard the front door click open.

Jeffrey walked in wearing a sharp, sapphire-blue suit. Right beside him, clinging to his arm, was Camila, dressed in a matching, coquettish skirt set.

Camila was leaning affectionately against Jeffrey. The second she saw me, she pulled her arm back with a look of faux panic, hastily trying to cover a glaringly obvious hickey on her neck.

'First thing in the morning, and she's practically broadcasting what they did last night?'

"Oh! Lori, you're here too! I'm so sorry. Jeffrey had a bit too much to drink last night, and I was so worried about him, so I just tagged along. You don't mind, do you, Lori?"

Camila's voice was sweet and gentle, but the malicious provocation in her eyes was completely undisguised.

"Don't worry about her. Your foot is sore. Sit down first."

He guided her farther inside, utterly blind to the way she was provoking me.

Or perhaps he wasn't blind at all. Perhaps he saw it and simply permitted it.

Jeffrey was a notorious neat freak. The moment he turned and saw the disaster zone on the floor, his brows knitted together furiously. He finally graced me with a look. "Clean this up."

He obviously wasn't talking to Camila.

That condescending, commanding tone, the one used for a servant, was reserved exclusively for me.

But...

"Why should I? This is my house. If I want to smash things, I'll smash them."

I raised my hand and casually flicked a crystal decanter off the side table. It hit the floor, sending another shower of glass shards flying.

I already smashed the wine and the glasses, might as well finish the decanter.

"Lori! What the hell are you doing?"

I had been obedient and submissive for so long. This was probably the first time he had ever seen me act like this. He looked absolutely livid, yet he still made sure to shield Camila, terrified that a piece of glass might scratch her. He stood there, glaring at me with pure rage.

Behind him, Camila put on a wounded little pout. She said softly, "Jeffrey, you always told me Lori was so gentle... This isn't what you described at all. If your grandma saw how miserable your marriage was, it would break her heart..."