He Pretended Poor, Was Stingy to Me, Spent 30M on Her, I Dumped Him

To buy my husband a decent birthday gift, I took a secret job as a delivery driver. One day, when I handed over a brown paper bag containing ultra-thin condoms to a female customer, she unexpectedly asked if I could give her a massage. Her reason? Her boyfriend had been so rough in bed that her entire body was sore and barely holding together. My immediate instinct was to turn her down. Today was the day I finally regained my hearing. I was filled with excitement, desperate to rush home and share this miracle with my husband. Then she made an offer I couldn't ignore: one thousand dollars for a single session. That was half my monthly paycheck. With that kind of cash, I could afford a much better birthday gift for my husband. Thinking of my husband, who was still working late, I followed her into the room. The lavish presidential suite was littered with discarded clothes, the air thick with the scent of lingering passion—a silent testament to just how intense their night had been. "Oh, you know what men are like," the woman sighed. "He's just obsessed with thrills and intensity. Good thing he bought me an entire collection of designer silk sleepwear, or I never would've been able to keep up with him." I glanced down at the torn silk nightgown strewn across the floor, then quietly hid my worn-out cuffs behind my back. I had seen that brand at the luxury mall before. Even the cheapest piece in their line cost at least three thousand dollars. "Mandy, did you get it?" A voice came from the bathroom, one I recognized immediately. My breath hitched. My head snapped around by instinct. When I saw him, I froze, the blood draining from my face. Standing there barely dressed was Vincent, the very man who had been my husband for five years, the man who shared a cramped, rundown apartment with me: my husband, Vincent Harrison. …… Outside, a storm battered the windows. Inside, the room was drowned in a suffocating silence. A flicker of panic crossed Vincent's face. His eyes immediately went to my ears, searching. I knew exactly what he was looking for. I wasn't wearing my hearing aids today. The moment he realized I was seemingly deaf to the world, the tension melted from his posture. He picked up a plush robe, threw it over his shoulders, and visibly relaxed. "Vince, you finished showering so fast?" Amanda Vaughn stepped out behind him, wrapped in a skimpy slip dress. Her delicate skin was covered in violent, dark love bites. "Why are you letting strangers into our room?" Vincent chided her softly. His tone was gentle, but the words hit me like a blade dipped in venom, carving deep into my flesh. I was his lawful wife, yet in his mouth, I was nothing but a nameless stranger at that moment. A sharp, throbbing agony radiated from my heart. Tears rushed up, blurring my vision into a misty haze. "Oh, come on. It's all your fault for wearing me out so badly," Amanda purred, clinging to his arm with half her weight. "I just thought she could help loosen up my muscles." "She's just a delivery driver. Her hands are probably as rough as sandpaper. What if she scratches your skin?" Vincent stroked her hair reassuringly. "Alright, go on and take your bath." My blood ran cold. My chest tightened until every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass. I stared down at my hands, rough and calloused, feeling as though my heart were being torn apart. There had been a time when my hands were soft and porcelain-white. But Vincent suffered from a chronic stomach condition and couldn't eat takeout. To take care of him, I taught myself how to cook, faithfully preparing homemade lunches for him. For five years, I never missed a single day. My hands carried the scars of countless small cuts and oil burns. He earned five thousand dollars a month. Three thousand went toward paying off debts, leaving only two thousand for our expenses. To ease his burden, I took extra delivery shifts and accepted tedious handwork jobs. Calluses slowly covered my hands. Yet I never complained. I never felt resentful. I had always found happiness in taking care of him. How foolish I had been. He wasn't moved by my sacrifices. He had grown disgusted with me long ago. The moment Amanda disappeared behind the frosted glass, Vincent turned around and began signing frantically. "Greta, why are you delivering food again? "You can't hear anything! What am I supposed to do if something happens to you out there?" Watching him sign angrily, I felt nothing but rage. "So this is the overtime you've been working?" I signed with sharp, angry movements, but before I could finish what I wanted to say, tears spilled down my face. "It's not what it looks like, he signed back urgently, his eyes pleading. I'm doing all of this for you, for our future. "Go home first. I'll explain everything to you later." As he saw my tears, a flick of guilt washed over his features, but it was quickly replaced by an anxious urge to push me out the door. "Vince, is this the surprise you were planning for me?" Amanda's delighted squeal burst from the bathroom. Like a breathless butterfly, she bolted out and threw herself straight into Vincent's arms. On her slender finger, a breathtaking sapphire ring blazed under the chandelier lights, casting dazzling, hypnotic reflections. "If I'm not mistaken, isn't this 'My One True Love', the masterpiece from the foreign auction a while back?" She gasped, her eyes glowing with ecstasy. "I was wondering who dropped 30 million dollars on it. I never dreamed it was you! Oh, I love it so, so much!" Every single word spilling from her mouth was a poison needle driving into my soul. My rain-soaked clothes clung to my skin as the cold seeped into my bones, sending shivers through my entire body. So... he had spent 30 million dollars at an auction for a ring named My One True Love. What a bitter joke. I lowered my head, staring blankly at the plain nine-dollar ring on my left ring finger, a cheap trinket he had ordered online years ago. My mind went completely numb. I still vividly remembered the night he proposed five years ago. Back then, he had held my hand, his eyes shining with sincerity. "Greta, I'm so sorry. After the bankruptcy, I only have twenty dollars left to my name. This ring might be dirt cheap, but my love for you is priceless. Marry me, and I swear I'll work my fingers to the bone to earn a fortune and buy you the biggest diamond in the world!" People always said that a man's willingness to spend money on a woman revealed how much he loved her. I used to sneer at that shallow belief. I genuinely believed that our bond transcended material wealth. Yet reality had just slapped me violently across the face. It turned out that, to Vincent, I had been cheap and disposable from the very beginning. "Vince, just give her a thousand dollars," Amanda said, casually resting her head on his shoulder. She looked up, her gaze locking onto mine with a faintly curled lip. "Even though she didn't get to massage me, let's just treat it as charity." Her expression flickered with a strange blend of mock pity and quiet triumph. "Sure, Mandy. You really have a soft heart," Vincent said gently. He pulled out his designer wallet, withdrew a stack of crisp bills totaling a thousand dollars, and handed it to me, gesturing in sign language at the same time. "Greta, it's pouring outside. I don't feel safe letting you ride your scooter home. "Take the money and call a cab. Message me when you get home safely, okay?" His expression softened with that familiar warmth and gentle concern. A day ago, my heart would have melted. Now, it was just sickeningly absurd. I had sacrificed my pride and rubbed my hands raw just to earn a thousand dollars. To him, however, it was merely pocket change to throw away as a tip. "I don't want it." I gestured. The money was meant to buy him a birthday gift anyway. Now, it didn't seem like he'd need anything from me ever again. Seeing that I was turning to leave, Vincent stepped forward aggressively, shoving the wad of cash straight into my coat pocket without taking no for an answer. "Greta, I know you're furious right now, but I swear things aren't what they seem. "Be a good girl, go home safely, and don't make me worry." Before I could shove the money back, he firmly ushered me out. Amanda's sweet, airy voice drifted through the remaining c***k before the latch caught. "Vince, was it a bit harsh when you said her hands were rough? She might just be a delivery driver, but that must have hurt her feelings." "Don't worry about it. She's completely deaf. She couldn't hear a word." Then, with a "bang", the heavy mahogany door swung shut, sealing off the room and cutting off all sound. But I had caught every last word Vincent said. "Your only job now is to fulfill the agreement and give birth to the child safely. Don't worry about trifles like that." Then, the world fell dead silent once more. Heavy, scalding tears rolled down my cheeks, sinking into the plush hallway carpet and disappearing without a trace. Slowly, I bent down, pulled the thousand dollars out of my pocket, and slid it back through the narrow gap under the door. It reeked of another woman's perfume. It made me sick.