Money Can't Buy Back a Dead Heart

Cara would always delay approval until the very last moment, then watch with a beaming smile as I scrambled pathetically to the venue for a piece of jewelry or a gown.

Occasionally, I'd end up being late because of this, and Peter would look at me with displeasure.

"Ada Patton, have you no sense of time? You can't even handle such a simple task. Look at yourself—in what way can you possibly measure up to Cara?"

But the reason I couldn't handle these trivial things and was always unable to arrive on time was entirely because of Cara.

Yet, Peter couldn't see it, nor did he care.

Just as he knew full well that Mom couldn't stop taking her medication or delay her treatment, he still impatiently snapped at me over the phone, as if it were perfectly justified.

"How many times have I told you? If you need money urgently, just ask Cara. It's not like she'd say no to you."

Getting money from Cara was as difficult as ever.

"What kind of emergency requires a one-time payment of 200 thousand dollars? Ada, you're not making excuses to ask for money, are you? 200 thousand dollars is no small amount. Please attach a detailed list of expenses, and I'll approve it then. For now, it's rejected."

I explained to her that it was an advance payment and that the itemized bill wouldn't be available until Mom was discharged from the hospital.

Cara smirked, feigning sudden understanding. "Oh, I see. Everyone in my family is quite healthy, so I really had no idea at all. But purchase requests are very strict, and bending the rules like this won't do.

"Why don't you get an official policy document from the hospital and attach it, and then I'll approve your request? In the meantime, I'm rejecting this."

Later, she added, "Hospitals can apparently help with falsifying documents, you know. I'm not saying you would do that. I'm just saying that it's a possibility. How about this—why don't you attach the industry regulation instead?"

And so, the critical window for emergency treatment was delayed again and again by Cara.

By the time I finally got the money, even the most outstanding medical team could do nothing to save Mom.

A continuous tide of hatred and anguish pierced my heart like countless fine needles, while an inexpressible sense of suffocation filled my chest.

I had to break out of this prison of a marriage.

Once I figured out what I needed to do next, I suddenly felt like a weight had lifted off my shoulders. It was as if the invisible shackles that had weighed on me all these years had vanished in an instant.

So when I saw Cara's provocative Instagram post, I remained utterly unmoved. In fact, I was even calm enough to save a screenshot and give it a like.

Whenever Cara was involved, Peter's messages always came swiftly.

"Cara has been doing good work lately, so I thought I'd treat her to a meal. You know, as her boss. So, don't you go stirring up trouble. Otherwise, people will take this the wrong way."

I wondered if Cara had said something to him again.

He continued matter-of-factly, "You already liked her post. If you take it back now, people will get the wrong idea about Cara. Leave a comment praising her work. Consider it an act of encouragement from both of us as a couple."

I hadn't planned on engaging at first. But the more I turned it over in my mind, the harder it became to swallow my resentment.

Thus, I complied with Peter's request and commented under Cara's post.

"Cara is so diligent and dedicated. She treats the employees and me with complete impartiality, using her little corporal approval system to flex every ounce of bureaucratic power.

"I hope you keep it up and continue to pile up your misdeeds. Every penny you save for the company today will be joint marital property when you step up as the next Mrs. Crowley. Kudos to you."

After hitting "send", I tossed my phone aside and began calmly packing up my things.

Throughout this, my phone rang incessantly. However, I paid it no attention.

It didn't take me long to finish packing. After all, all the valuable items that belonged to me were locked tightly away inside a walk-in closet secured with top-grade passcode and a safe with triple security locks.

All these years, I had been like a temporary guest. Even the traces I left behind were only shallow and faint.

Now that I saw things clearly, it all suddenly made sense.

Peter arrived home very quickly. I marveled at this once again.

Whenever it involved news about Cara, he was always so prompt. Never once did he dilly-dally.

He acted as if he hadn't noticed the small suitcase by my feet, his brows still furrowed with anger.