Chapter 4
1075 Words
Early the next morning, I returned home to pack my belongings.
A group of Ezekiel’s relatives were already gathered in the living room, clearly preparing to gang up on me again.
The harsh words they had thrown at me in my past life were still vividly etched into my memory.
"You’re damaged goods already. What right do you have to ask for a divorce?"
"If you hadn’t been flirting with every man you saw, you wouldn’t have been kidn*pped and sexually assaulted."
"If you still had even a shred of decency, you’d stay home and fulfill your duties as a wife and mother instead of causing trouble!"
With a loud bang, I pushed the door open and walked in.
The tense, twisted expression on Ezekiel’s face immediately relaxed as relief washed over him.
But he quickly forced his smug expression back into place, still maintaining his arrogant attitude in front of me.
"You’ve got some nerve coming back. Because you didn’t come home yesterday, no one changed my mother’s diaper. Her leg is completely covered in a rash!"
"Kneel down and apologize to her, and I’ll forget everything. I’ll even be generous enough to forgive you."
I swept my cold gaze across the room.
It had only been one day since I left, yet the entire house already reeked of stale urine, thick and suffocating in the air.
Greasy dishes and chopsticks were piled messily across the table.
His relatives immediately began their usual sarcastic and passive-aggressive remarks.
"Zoey Whitmore, you graduated from a top university, didn’t you? How can you have zero sense of responsibility as a wife? Leaving all the housework undone just to laze around at your parents’ home."
"You’re already damaged goods, and you still refuse to tolerate your husband. Throwing a tantrum over nothing!"
"You’d better behave. Evan won’t love you when he grows up, and he definitely won’t take care of you when you’re old!"
Each word struck deeper than the last, piercing straight into the most painful part of my chest.
In the past, the timid version of me would have stood there silently, crying while enduring their humiliation.
But not anymore. I raised my hand and pushed away Ezekiel’s third Aunt, Aurora Whitmore, who had leaned in too close and was practically breathing down my neck.
One cold word slipped from my lips, "Get out."
Her face instantly turned red with rage, and she rolled up her sleeves, ready to explode.
At that moment, my mother-in-law, Margaret Whitmore, raised her voice, her shrill words slicing through the room.
"Zoey! You little slut! Hurry up and clean me up!"
"What kind of curse did our family commit to end up with such an ungrateful daughter-in-law!"
"Aren’t you ashamed of what you did? Everyone in town knows you were sexually assaulted! If it were me, I would’ve crawled into a hole and never come out!"
Even now, I still couldn’t understand why she hated me so deeply.
In my past life, she had been paralyzed for decades. I was the one who bathed her, changed her, and cleaned up after her every mess.
I gave her dignity and care when no one else would.
Her own son refused to even pour her a glass of water.
Her own grandson wouldn't even step foot in her room; he stayed as far away as possible.
And yet, she never once dared to criticize them. All her cruelty was reserved for me alone.
When I stayed silent, Ezekiel assumed I was afraid. That only made him more smug.
"From now on, you’ll stay home and behave. Take care of the old lady and the child. We’ll pretend nothing ever happened, and I won’t hold it against you."
His shameless, self-satisfied expression made my stomach churn with disgust.
My son and the relatives immediately stepped forward one by one, crowding around me.
"Mom, Dad is already being very generous. Just accept it. Stop being stubborn."
"Evan’s mom, just live your life properly. Don’t push Ezekiel so far that he actually divorces you. Then you won’t even have anywhere to cry."
They spoke as if they were offering me a way out.
But the truth was, they were terrified I would actually go through with the divorce.
Because they all knew one thing clearly: Ezekiel would never find another fool like me.
Someone willing to sacrifice everything and slave away for this family.
I didn’t respond to any of them. Instead, I pulled out the divorce agreement I had already prepared and slammed it onto the table.
"I’m filing for divorce."
Silence fell instantly over the entire room.
Ezekiel’s face darkened so much it looked like a storm was brewing. His jaw clenched tightly, and with a sudden, violent motion, he tore the divorce papers into pieces.
"She’s gone insane!" he shouted. "Lock her in a mental hospital for treatment! She’ll come back to normal!"
Then he lunged toward me with a twisted expression.
My heart shot into my throat.
He was trying the same method again.
I struggled violently and screamed, "Let go of me! I’m not insane!"
My son stood frozen, staring at me helplessly, unable to move.
Margaret clapped her hands and let out a triumphant laugh, clearly reveling in my predicament.
"Lock her up for a few days! Beat that rotten woman’s bad habits out of her!"
Ezekiel ignored my resistance completely and dragged me out toward the car.
When he noticed the neighbors gathering to watch, he immediately put on a helpless, righteous expression.
"She lost her mind after that incident. We’re taking her to get treated."
As he spoke, he tightened his grip around my throat and tried to force me into the car.
My heart hammered so hard it felt like it would burst through my ribs, and my face turned purple from lack of air.
Just when it seemed that history was about to repeat itself, loud, blaring sirens suddenly pierced the air.
A sharp screech of brakes followed as police cars rushed in and stopped directly in front of Ezekiel’s vehicle, blocking him completely.
- Writer
