He Sold My Parents' Lives for Wealth

Chapter 4

In the afternoon, Chris came home.

Clara had just finished washing a huge pile of dirty laundry when he roughly grabbed her and dragged her upstairs.

He threw a tube of burn ointment and a steamship ticket at her, his voice softening a little. "Clara, I know you're upset. But you really were too clumsy today. Luckily, Liam is fine. The ship leaves this afternoon. Pack your things now and leave immediately."

Clara's hand holding the ticket shook uncontrollably. She already knew the answer, but she still asked, unable to help herself. "I'm leaving alone?"

"Yes. You're used to living back home. Europe isn't for you." Chris looked away.

Clara stared at him. "I want you and the children to come back with me. Can we do that?"

Chris's face froze. "Clara, I haven't established myself firmly here yet, and besides—"

"And besides what? Besides, Yara can't live without you? Or are you just enjoying this life too much?" Clara retorted.

"Clara Monse! Don't you dare insult me!" Chris's face turned hideous in an instant.

"Insult you? I've been kept in the dark for five years, used as a breeding machine, a housekeeper, a nanny, a tool to make money. Who exactly is the one being insulted? You told me to wait, so I waited for five years. You told me to have children, so I gave you three. You told me to prop up the Monse family, so I did. But what about you? You've been living in luxury, holding another woman in your arms, making my children call her Mummy!" Clara let out a cold laugh, all the pent-up grief and anger pouring out.

"Enough!" The veins on Chris's forehead bulged. He reached out and shoved her hard. Clara stumbled backward, and the vase behind her crashed to the floor with a loud bang.

A baby's cry came from the next room. The door opened, and Yara walked in holding the crying newborn Noah. She looked at the broken porcelain shards all over the floor, her face darkening with anger. "Mabel! Tie her up and make her kneel in the yard! If she breaks anything else in this house, I'll throw you out!" she shouted downstairs.

Chris looked away, not stopping her. He let Mabel drag Clara downstairs. The foreign night was long and suffocating. The rain started falling without warning. Clara knelt in the middle of the courtyard, her burned legs going numb with pain, her whole body soaked through.

Directly above the courtyard was the window of the master bedroom. As the night grew deeper, a dim yellow light shone through the window. The shadows of two people swayed and overlapped in the lamplight. She heard Yara's low, coquettish laugh, and Chris's gentle, soothing voice. The sounds drifted down to her, broken and intermittent, like knives cutting into her heart again and again.

Clara bit down hard on her lips, remembering the words he had said when he married her. "Clara, I will only ever love you for the rest of my life."

She remembered the night he had taken Liam away, holding her and saying, "Wait for me. When I come back from Europe, our family will never be apart again."

Every lonely night, she had lain awake, her heart aching for him, thinking he was suffering alone in Europe. Now, looking back, it was all so laughable. When the first light of dawn painted the sky, the rain stopped.

Chris walked out, dressed in a sharp suit, his diamond-studded lapel pin glinting blindingly in the light. "Have you made up your mind? Are you leaving or not?"

Clara knelt in the mud and rainwater, looking as wretched as a stray dog. She lifted her head, her lips pale with a hint of purple. "If I don't leave, what will you do to me today? Make me kneel another night, listening to you two together all night?"

Chris's face changed drastically. "Clara Monse! Haven't you caused enough trouble? I'm at a critical point in expanding my business here. Yara is my most capable assistant! Your position as my wife will never change, but you have to accept that Yara is here to stay!" He grabbed her by the collar, shaking her hard.

Clara shot back, "I thought you said this was all just an act for business? Now you want me to accept her? Me, your legal wife. I wonder if your Yara would be willing to be your mistress. Why don't we go ask her right now?"

Chris was rendered speechless and shaking with anger. He raised his hand—

"Chris! Why are you getting into a fight with a clumsy nanny? Just train her slowly. Don't get so worked up. The storage room hasn't been cleaned in ages. Make her go tidy it up." Yara's voice came from behind him. She was wearing a silk nightgown with a polite smile on her face.

The storage room was deep in the backyard. Clara pushed open the door and began tidying up mechanically. A stack of receipts on the desk was blown open by the wind. Her body froze suddenly.

"August 3: Purchased a villa, paid a deposit of 7.32 million dollars, final payment of 2.93 million dollars."

She remembered the 7.32 million dollars! It had been three months after Liam had been taken away.

She had received an urgent letter from Chris, saying that their child, Liam, was seriously ill and needed a huge sum of money for life-saving treatment. She had been so worried that she had sold off all the remaining family property her parents had left her, along with all of her dowry, and sent the money to Europe through a friend. So that money had been used to buy this very villa. Clara's hands began to shake.

December 12: New winter handbag, 29,300 dollars.

December 18: Banquet for local business celebrities, 117,200 dollars.

January 16: A new piano, 87,900 dollars.

After every number, the source was written: Funds received from back home.

That money had been saved penny by penny over five years. He had written to her, saying he needed money for business cash flow.

She had lived frugally, gritted her teeth, and sold off her possessions to send him money. He had written to her, saying the children were weak and needed nourishment. She had taken out bank loans to send him more money.

But all that money had turned into Yara's designer handbags, jewelry, and piano. Clara squatted on the floor, holding the receipts in her arms. A cold chill seeped out from her very bones.

The sky grew dark. Clara finished tidying up the storage room and walked out step by step. The pain in her legs had gone numb. She felt as if her whole body had been hollowed out. She walked to the back of the garden, leaned against the rockery, and tried to catch her breath. She had just closed her eyes when a young, shrill voice of accusation exploded in her ear like a thunderclap.

"It's this bad nanny! She deliberately broke Mummy's bracelet!"