Divorce Finally Made Him Break

I was determined to conduct a detailed investigation on Monday and root out the traitor at the company. But the next day, I got a call from a company executive. "Josie, our investor has pulled out because of the leak, and we can't even cover payroll. I'm really sorry, but you don't need to come to work anymore."

I stood there in shock for a long time, clutching my phone.

I had accepted Timothy's proposal after graduating from college and had gotten pregnant soon after. My dream job at a news outlet fell through, and he'd held me close, saying, "Don't be sad, Josie. How about I invest in them? No one would dare reject you then."

I had refused, not wanting to be a nepotism hire. Instead, I had joined the chaotic entertainment media industry and worked my way up to editor-in-chief in three years with my excellent performance. Now, I'd been fired over something like this.

The man who had once offered to throw money to secure my dream job was also the one who had made me lose the job I'd gotten.

The disparity between love and indifference was painfully clear. A person's heart could change beyond recognition.

I stormed out of my room and went to the private chapel. Timothy was there, meditating as he kneeled on a custom cushion with his rosary in hand.

In the past, I had adored his serene, ascetic demeanor. I used to love his refined air that seemed untouched by worldly matters. Even when his devotion to religion meant that I had to follow strict rules, I'd never complained.

I marched over, grabbed the rosary from his hand, and demanded, "Is this how the gods have taught you to treat your wife? What gives you the right to meddle in my job?"

He frowned slightly at being interrupted mid-prayer. "That kind of low-class job isn't worth keeping. I'll give you money if that's what you need."

A low-class job?

I had stayed up nights writing articles and hustled for promotions. This was my hard-earned career we were talking about. How could he dismiss it so easily?

I clenched my fists and growled, "You had better get to the bottom of this leak! I'm not taking the blame for it!"

Timothy lowered his eyes. "Yasmin has already let it go. You should know when to quit."

I refused. "Has she let it go, or is she just scared to pursue the matter? Is she afraid that someone will uncover her little staged drama? Are you thinking with your manhood, Timothy?"

He scowled. "Watch yourself, Josie. Remember where you are!"

At that moment, Yasmin, who was ever-present, appeared with a cup of freshly brewed tea for Timothy. She turned to me and said, "Ms. York, Tim stopped you from doing that job to spare you the indignity. I haven't been in the entertainment industry long, but I've seen paparazzi get chased and beaten."

Her lofty tone made it sound like I was beneath them.

I retorted, "Then, have you seen mistresses get their hair pulled and faces slapped? You play the homewrecker with such 'dignity', and you have the nerve to say that my honest work isn't respectable enough?"

She paled, and tears instantly filled her eyes. She choked back a sob.

Just then, Daphne's anxious voice came from outside. "Mommy, Mommy, where are you? I woke up and couldn't find you!"

Yasmin hurried out, and Timothy, who rarely showed his anxiety, quickly followed.

I watched them silently. Then, I returned to my room and started submitting my résumé on a job-hunting app. Being Timothy's wife was less fulfilling than the "lowly" job he had sneered at.

After sending out about 30 applications, I ordered my old favorites—steak, pizza, and foie gras. It had been three years since I'd eaten these.

I was diagnosed with iron-deficiency anemia as a child, and the doctor said that eating iron-rich foods like lean meat was the best remedy, aside from medication.

But to follow Timothy's rules, I had pushed my anemia to the point of fainting just from standing up. All he had done at the time was have a doctor give me an IV drip. He had never once bent his vegetarian principles.

And what had I gotten from that?

…

When my food delivery arrived, lunch was ready.

The well-paid vegetarian chef Timothy had hired was on duty. He personally served the dishes he'd spent all morning preparing, making sure to explain each one in detail.

When Timothy saw me, he said to the chef, "You're very professional. I'll leave my food in your hands from now on."

Was that a jab meant for me?

The lunch seating was the same as the night before. Yasmin and Daphne sat on either side of Timothy, silently declaring that I was an outsider.

This time, however, I didn't sit next to Daphne just to get some food. I calmly carried my takeout to the far end of the table and sat.

No matter how lavish the vegetarian spread was, I didn't want a single bite of it. Why would I stick to grass when I had meat? I wasn't addicted to playing a herbivore!

Yasmin secretly shot me a taunting look to signal that she'd pushed me out of the picture… until I slowly opened my takeout bag, revealing the fragrant steak, foie gras, and pizza I'd ordered.