My Wife's True Love Owns Our Home

"Charlene, I feel awful. I can hardly breathe," Travis moaned.

Charlene's expression changed instantly, and she quickly leaned over to check on him. "Travis, what's wrong?"

"I-I think I might be having an allergic reaction to eating peanuts," Travis stammered, pain evident in his voice.

Charlene's gaze snapped toward me, sharp with accusation.

"Javier, you knew full well Travis is allergic to peanuts, so why didn't you tell the kitchen in advance?"

Her question caught me off guard. Since when did I know about Travis' peanut allergy? And why would I ever instruct my father-in-law's kitchen staff about a stranger's dietary restrictions?

Not to mention, the dishes were already on the table by the time we arrived.

"I didn't know he was allergic to peanuts," I replied coldly.

"You didn't know?" Charlene's voice rose sharply. "You clearly did this on purpose! Do you really hate him that much?"

I was so furious I almost laughed. "So? What do you want me to do? Take responsibility for his allergic reaction?"

"I'll let it slide this time," Charlene said through gritted teeth. "But he'll be living with us from now on, so you better be more careful. Don't let something like this happen again."

I could hardly believe my ears—she actually wanted me to look after Travis from now on? Was there no end to her shamelessness?

Before I could respond, another groan of pain came from the back seat.

Charlene's composure shattered instantly.

"I have to get him to a hospital now!" She started the car and turned to me urgently. "Get out."

I stood there, unmoving. "You expect me to walk back?"

We were in the wealthy suburbs where public transport was sparse and cabs were nearly impossible to find at night.

Charlene slammed her hand against the steering wheel in frustration. "The hospital isn't on the way home. I don't have time to drop you off now. Travis' situation is more urgent. Find a way to get home yourself. Just bear with it for tonight."

With that, she hit the gas, leaving me behind in a cloud of foul-smelling exhaust fumes.

I stood alone on the empty roadside. The night wind swept by, carrying a biting chill.

"Just bear with it for tonight." She made it sound so effortless.

Yes, I supposed I had been "bearing it" for years now.

I took out my phone and called her personal driver, Jeff West.

"Jeff, could you come pick me up from Downing Villa?"

Jeff arrived ten minutes later.

He looked slightly surprised to see me alone. "Mr. Townsend, where's Mrs. Townsend? I thought you were both having dinner here."

I opened the car door and got in before replying calmly, "Something urgent came up at the company, so she had to leave early."

But I was actually scoffing inwardly, knowing all too well that she was actually rushing off to take care of Travis.

Not long after I returned home, my phone chimed with a new message.

I tapped it open, and my pupils instantly contracted.

A photo showed Charlene in a hotel bed, sleeping deeply in a bathrobe. Across her fair skin, from her neck down to her collarbone, were scattered intimate red marks.

Along with the photo was a taunting message, "Javier, Charlene won't be going home tonight. She said it's only when she's with me that she can truly relax."

It turned out the whole "allergy emergency" was just an excuse for them to check into a hotel.

Charlene really outdid herself this time.

Expressionlessly, I took a screenshot of the photo and message and sent it to Louis. Then, I forwarded them to Charlene as well with a message of my own, "A house wasn't enough, so now you're paying him back with your body as well?"

The moment she received the message, Charlene rushed back in a panic, a flicker of guilt visible on her face.

"Javier, let me explain. It's not what you think. Travis and I—"

"Shut up." I cut her off coldly, unwilling to hear those worn-out excuses again.

She stepped closer and took my hand. "Come on, don't be upset. There's really nothing going on between us."

I shook off her hand in disgust, then went into the study to retrieve a thick stack of debt collection notices.

"Charlene, look at these!" I pointed at the pile of notices, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. "Do you remember when your family went bankrupt, and it was me who stayed with you in that windowless basement, surviving on one meal a day?

"To pay off tens of millions of dollars in debt, I emptied all my savings, worked a corporate job by day, and drove rideshare until dawn! When you passed out drunk on the street, it was me who carried you home.

"When your old friends humiliated you, it was me who stood in front of you and fought them off. Where was Travis then? And now? Now you've made your comeback. You're the high-and-mighty CEO again. You have your precious Travis, and suddenly I'm just in the way?"

By the end, I was almost shouting. I hurled the stack of notices straight at her face. "This is what you owe me! How are you going to pay it back?"