The Fine Art of Misunderstanding

Thinking of what Grandma always said—that once a woman marries, she should put her husband's family first—I added, "I'm doing this for your own good. If something happens to you, at least you'll still have half your assets. Otherwise, you might end up with nothing."

He clenched his teeth and shouted that I was cursing him.

Wendy stepped in, looking aggrieved.

"Matt, this is all my fault. I was too foolish and messed up during practice. Lily must be blaming me; that's why she wants to divorce you."

She sobbed as she spoke, then said she would give her life to repay my mother. Crying, she even made as if to rush toward the window.

Matt grabbed her and coaxed her gently. "Wendy, don't do this. It hurts me to see you like this."

As he comforted her, Wendy fainted. His gaze toward me grew even more hateful as he swept her up into his arms.

Then he barked at me viciously, "There's no way I'm giving you half. If you want compensation, I can give you a little—some assets. But anything related to the company? Don't even think about touching it!"

Unhappy, I went back to the lawyer and explained the situation.

The lawyer gave me another divorce agreement. This one no longer divided the assets in half.

Matt's company was worth billions, with enormous cash flow and monthly net profits in the millions.

He also owned a great deal of fixed property.

This new agreement divided the fixed assets, giving me two-thirds of them, and allocated another portion of liquid assets. Compared to company shares, it was less—but far more practical.

I didn't understand, so the lawyer explained: first, ask for the moon; then, when you make a second demand, they're more likely to agree.

I took the new divorce agreement and went to Matt.

He glanced at it impatiently, then even praised me for being sensible.

After signing, he said, "This is your compensation. Hurry up and sign the death certificate paperwork and take your mom away."

The divorce proceedings take one month to complete.

Hearing that, I truly didn't understand.

Hadn't he even looked at his mother's face during the dissection?

I said, "Matt, I can't sign this, and I can't take her away. You're her son—only you can sign."

"Take her or don't. If you don't, she'll stay in the morgue forever!" Matt impatiently drove me out.

I went home, packed a few changes of clothes, and left.

He never contacted me again. Instead, Wendy kept posting on social media, showing off how well Matt treated her—where they traveled, what they did.

She said it was because her practice surgery had failed, and he was taking her out to relax.

A month later, the divorce proceedings were finalized, and all assets had been transferred.

Matt and Wendy arrived at the courthouse hand in hand.

As soon as he got the divorce certificate, Wendy immediately registered their marriage.

She flaunted the marriage certificate in front of me, deliberately hugging and kissing Matt right before my eyes.

Just then, a doctor called Matt, urging him, "Mr. Rayden, your mother's body has been in the morgue for a month now. When will you come to claim it?"

Matt's expression changed instantly.