I Signed the Divorce and Cut Them All Off

Chapter 2 The Outsider's Rise

The Wood family held a storied legacy within the chess community, yet young Mark, noted for his autism, was somewhat sidelined as the family's anomaly.

Determined not to let his exceptional abilities fade into obscurity, my father took him under our wing.

From that moment on, the Stone household became his sanctuary, a place where he found a spot at our dinner table, a desk for his academic pursuits, and a bed to call all his own.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, made him a guest only on Christmas's Eve. Back then, he wasn't a champion but rather a neglected soul by those who were meant to care for him.

It all shifted dramatically when Mark seized his first world championship title. Instead of returning to the Wood family, he knelt in front of my father, offering profound gratitude.

"Mr. Stone," he proclaimed, "my eternal gratitude is owed to you and Linda in this life."

With a warm smile, my father offered words of wisdom.

"This is just the start. Stay humble and grounded. The journey ahead is long."

Nodding in agreement, Mark would occasionally steal glances at me.

Officially, I was his training partner, but truth be told, I had been his assistant for quite some time.

I kept a notebook detailing his preferences, dietary needs, pre-match rituals, and training schedules.

Reviewing those details, he was no longer the withdrawn child he once was. Instead, he was a vulnerable figure, teary-eyed, clinging onto my hand.

As a teen, Mark publicly acknowledged my support. By his twenties, my assistance was something he accepted with ease and a sense of belonging.

During Mark's fifth championship run, a car accident changed everything. His father took the impact, landing him in a coma.

That same year, I married into the Wood family, becoming Mrs. Wood, while carrying twins.

It was all for the children.

Elizabeth, who never really accepted me, stayed silent, setting up an agent for Mark.

As we sat together that evening, he gently touched my growing belly and raised a hand in promise.

"Wendy's a seasoned agent, here to take some load off your shoulders."

He pressed a tender kiss to my forehead, eyes full of love.

"You're carrying twins. It's hard enough. I hate seeing you worry about me."

He meant every word.

In three months, I was dealing with relentless nausea, a shadow of who I once was.

Meanwhile, Mark's life grew more hectic, his visits home less frequent.

Whenever I asked, he would mention training.

I understood his dream of seven consecutive wins, so I held back further questions.

I confided in Wendy, even though she remained distant.

Through my pregnancy fatigue, I prepared soups for her or sent thoughtful gifts.

I trusted her with Mark's well-being.

And she proved dependable.

But on the night I nearly lost my life delivering twins, headlines screamed a scandal. Mark and Wendy shared a night at a hotel.

My newborns' umbilical cords were barely cut.

Elizabeth thrust a phone and microphone at me, insisting I face the media.

My mind was spinning.

Blood pooled on my tongue, words evading me.

Elizabeth pinched me sharply, whispering a menacing order, "Linda, if you wish to hold your babies again, you speak up now!"

With trembling fingers, I followed her lead, voicing scripted trust in him, my voice shaking.

That night, social media branded me the "archaic meddler."

And as soon as I emerged from the operating room, Elizabeth claimed the twins.

My marriage crumbled.

My reputation was left in shambles.

My father became a vegetative patient.

My babies were my sole anchor.

Later, when I faced Mark about the custody of our children, he showed no remorse. Instead, he brusquely pulled away from my grasp.

"They deserve a first-rate education with my mom. What can you offer them? Lessons on being a leech? Why have I been unfaithful? Why not examine those stretch marks on your belly and see how you measure up to Wendy?"

With that, he tossed a folder at my feet, pointed at it, and added, "This is Wendy's competitive analysis. Maybe consider learning from it instead of acting like a crazy woman every day."

His disdain and icy indifference cut deep.

Overwhelmed and heartbroken, I fled, crashing into a pillar in my anguish.