Charging My Wife by the Hour Chapter 03
Vivian pulled Elliot and Eleanor behind her and scoffed. “Vincent, didn’t you say you’d rent out anything as long as the price is right? I’ve already transferred the rent for your mother’s grave. What are you making a scene about now?”
I was so furious that even my teeth were chattering. “How can you be so heartless, Vivian?”
Vivian shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m clearly playing by your rules, so how does that make me heartless? Or is it that in your mind, everyone else’s feelings are sacred, while our marriage is dirt cheap—something that can just be bought and sold?”
My fingernails dug deeply into my palms; I was so consumed by hatred that I could barely feel the pain.
I couldn’t understand how the woman who had once stayed up all night caring for my mother by her hospital bed could have turned into this person today. Vivian had once smiled sweetly as she promised my mother that she would build a good life with me.
Elliot, who was cradling the memorial photo of a dog in his arms, choked out, “Forget it, Vivian. Even though Lucky was family to Ellie and me, an animal is still an animal. It isn’t right to take up Vincent’s mother’s grave.”
Noticing his tears, Vivian’s voice turned cold. “Move, Vincent.”
I gritted out, “In your dreams!”
She paced over to my side and whispered into my ear, “Vic is having his surgery next month, so you’d better behave during this period of time.”
My entire body went cold. “Isn’t Vic your son? Why are you threatening me with your own child?”
Vivian casually reached out and straightened my collar. “He is, but Ellie is my own flesh and blood, too. During our first year together, Elliot reached out to catch up with me.
“We had one too many, and we made a mistake… Look, you and Vic have the wealth and the status, so you really should be the bigger people here.”
I was nearly drenched in cold sweat. No wonder she had suddenly gone abroad to study right after we got together and absolutely refused to let me visit her under any circumstances.
Images of Victor collapsing from his sudden myocardial infarction flashed through my mind over and over again. Slowly, I lowered the hoe in my hands. My legs felt as though they had been filled with lead as I stiffly moved aside.
Eleanor lunged forward. “Yay! That old hag made way for Lucky!” Then, she tore the black-and-white photo from my mother’s tombstone, grabbed the cremation urn, and prepared to smash it!
“No!” My mind went completely blank, and I darted forward. To shield my mother’s urn, my head slammed heavily against the tombstone. As the world spun around me, my vision turned blood-red.
“Vincent!” Vivian hurriedly helped me up. Her hands were trembling as she tried to wipe the blood away from my forehead. “Does it hurt? Are you alright?”
I shoved her away and thrust the documents from my bag right in her face. “The rent you paid isn’t enough. Sign it.”
After catching clear sight of the large words “Property Ownership Transfer Agreement” on the document, her face hardened in a heartbeat. “Very well, Vincent!”
Vivian swiftly took out a pen and signed her name on the document. Then, she fiercely hurled both the pen and the documents onto the ground, linked arms with Elliot and Eleanor, and strode away.
The body of the pen snapped into two pieces upon impact. It was the third-anniversary gift I had given her when we were dating. The first document she had ever signed with this pen was our marriage certificate.
I picked up the document and pulled out the divorce agreement tucked behind the property transfer contract. As I looked at her graceful signature on it, I laughed and sobbed at the same time. Then, I staggered to my feet with my mother’s urn in my arms.
Once Victor’s surgery was over, everything between us would be over for good.
…
Having finally endured until the day of the surgery, I let out a sigh of relief as I watched Victor being wheeled into the operating room. I sank to my knees by the door and prayed, begging heaven to have mercy and bless Victor with a successful operation.
However, before the operation was even over, my phone lit up with another notification—more money had hit my account. Before I even had the chance to read the note clearly, the doors to the operating room suddenly swung open. The doctors hurried out without taking off their blood-stained gloves.
My hands and feet went completely numb as I desperately grabbed the coat of the last remaining doctor. “My son’s surgery isn’t over yet. Where are you all going?”
