His $5.2, I Quit As His Wife

Chapter 2

Dead silence hung on the screen.

I’d already started to think I’d never get a reply when a notification ping blared out of nowhere.

But instead of my no good of a husband, it was Stacy who texted me.

Stacy Hayes: President Miller's asleep.

Stacy Hayes: With all due respect, this little attention-grabbing trick of yours is totally cheap and low-class.

Stacy Hayes: You don't know this yet, do you? President Miller loves it when I make the first move...

I didn’t type back. I didn’t even feel a spark of anger.

Instead, I just took a screenshot of the photos and the entire chat log I had with Stacy. Then, without a care in the world, I posted them on my i********: for everyone to see.

Right after that, I replied to the recruiter who’d been hounding me.

Me: I accept your offer. I’ll be there for onboarding in three days, sharp.

Then I shut off my phone and flopped straight into bed.

The next morning, the bedroom door came crashing open with a violent kick.

Sebastian stormed in, his face purple with rage. "Fiona, what the hell are you doing with your life? Are you seriously losing your mind over the holidays? Do you have any idea how much damage you’ve done to Stacy's reputation?"

He suddenly went for my phone and threw it back at me harshly. "Delete that i********: post right now! Admit you made the whole thing up out of jealousy, then go apologize to her in person."

Next to his hysterical screaming, I was eerily calm.

After all, I’d only just sent my tantrum-throwing son off to school by myself an hour earlier.

"Why would I apologize? Every single word came straight from her mouth, didn’t it?" I scoffed.

A flicker of awkwardness crossed his face, and his gaze darted to my computer, where the entire screen was filled with Spanish phrases. "When did you suddenly start learning Spanish?" He sneered. "You got all worked up because Stacy's so much better than you, huh? Don’t go chasing humiliation. She’s a top grad who studied in Europe. You can’t copy that just by faking it."

He had long written me off as a stay-at-home wife completely disconnected from the real world—he couldn’t even recognize the project introduction displayed on my screen.

But he’d forgotten. Before I married him, I held a dozen acceptance offers from overseas universities, one of them being Madrid.

One line from him, his startup needed me by his side, and I threw away my chance to go abroad. I stayed to build his empire from nothing, starting with nothing but our bare hands.

When we were dead broke, we lived in a damp, mold-infested basement apartment and had to split a single cup of instant ramen between the two of us.

Back then, Sebastian would even give me the last hard-boiled egg we had. But in the very first year after he made it big, he hired Stacy as his personal secretary.

He told me she had tons of overseas experience, perfect for helping the company expand into new markets.

I tried to trust him.

Afraid he'd get too busy with work and skip meals, I let a pot of chicken soup simmer for hours and personally brought it to his office.

The second I pushed the door open, I saw Stacey half-naked, on her knees with her back to me, right between Sebastian's legs.

I lost it. I dumped the entire pot of boiling soup over both of them, smashed every single thing I could get my hands on, and demanded he fire her on the spot.

What did I get in return? Even worse neglect and retaliation from Sebastian.

I bit my tongue and swallowed my pride for years. But I was done tolerating it now.

I let out a cold hiss. "Fine, go live with her then."

When I refused to back down, he blew an even bigger gasket.

"This is all over that same damn money transfer? We’re married! Is this really worth throwing a fit over?"

I pushed the divorce agreement across the table straight to his chest. "You’re right. There’s no point in fighting anymore. If you agree to the divorce, I won’t take a thing. I don’t want custody of our son, I don’t want the money, I want nothing at all."

He stared at me like he couldn't believe his eyes. "You're just a housewife now. How on earth are you gonna survive without me?"

"That's my problem, not yours. Don't you worry your pretty head about it." I huffed.

A strange, blank look washed over his face, like he was seeing me for the very first time.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but suddenly his phone blared out its ringtone.

Stacy's urgent voice crackled through the speaker. "President Miller, Matthew got in trouble at school! You need to get here right now!"

His face dropped instantly. "I'm on my way."

Sebastian insisted I come with him, and I couldn't talk him out of it. He hauled me roughly over to his Maybach.

The second, my hand landed on the door handle, he smacked it away hard. "Sit in the back. Stacy won't like it if you sit up front."

When we walked into the school office, I was shocked to find Stacy already waiting there.

I wrinkled my brow in disgust and turned to leave, but someone grabbed my wrist before I could move an inch.

Stacy's voice oozed with hurt innocence. "President Miller, I never thought Ms. Johnson would be the sort of person to do this." She turned towards me. "Matthew had already told us everything. How could you teach a child such terrible things?"

I blinked at her in complete confusion. "What the hell are you rambling about?"

My son pointed a trembling finger at me, tears streaming down his face. "Teacher, it was my mom who stole the money!"