Flaunting My Ring? Too Bad Your Man Is My Husband—and I Hold the Pen to His Fortune! Chapter 05
Severin stared at me.
He stood up, turned, walked to the
penthouse window, and yanked it open.
The cold city air rushed in.
“Stop!” I shouted.
He froze, half his body hanging out over the
dizzying drop.
He looked back at me, his face full of despair.
“Elara… without” you, none of this means
anything. Business. Money. Power. None of
it.“”
“Wait.”
A flicker of pathetic hope lit up Severin’s
eyes.
But then I turned, walked to the old suitcase,
and pulled a yellowed document from the
hidden pocket.
The agreement we’d signed in our second
year of marriage.
Back then, we lived in a cramped safe house.
We couldn’t even bring ourselves to replace
a broken lamp.
That night, he held me and said what he
feared most wasn’t poverty or death–it was
that one day I’d stop believing in him.
So he wrote the agreement himself.
Neat handwriting. Simple terms.
If Severin ever cheated, we’d divorce immediately. He’d leave with nothing. Every marital asset in his name would go to me.
He’d pressed his fingerprint, slid the paper
toward me, eyes red.
“Elara, if I ever betray you, I’ll give up
everything.”
I believed it then.
I really did.
Looking back, it’s almost funny.
I threw the agreement in front of him.
“Read that before” you jump.
Severin looked down at the paper. The color
drained from his face.
His hand slipped off the window frame. He
stepped back slowly.
“Elara…”
“Don’t.”
My voice was calm.
“Didn’t you say business, money, and power
meant nothing?”
“Then follow the agreement you wrote back
then.”
“Divorce.”
“Leave with nothing.”
“Give back everything you owe me.”
He stared at me blankly, like he was just
realizing he wasn’t just losing a wife.
“Of course, if you think this agreement
doesn’t count, that’s fine too.”
I picked up my phone.
“We’ll go see a lawyer right now. I don’t
mind making this very public.”
“No!”
He grabbed my wrist, his voice cracking.
“Don’t do this, Elara. Please.”
“I was wrong. As your husband, I failed
you.”
“I’ll cut” Mirella off completely. From now
on, ““everything is yours.”
“Accounts. Territory. Assets. Everything. I’ll
hand it all over to you.”
“I swear I’ll make it up to you.”
““Every dollar I spent on Mirella, I’ll pay
back a thousandfold.“”
I looked at him.
What was the point of making it up now?
My mother wasn’t coming back. Those ten
years weren’t coming back.
But making him bleed, making him watch
himself lose everything… that was at least a
start.
I pulled my hand back, folded the
agreement, and put it in my bag.
“Then start now.”
“Severin, don’t let me catch you again.
“Next” time, I won’t listen to your excuses.”
Severin took me to his real home.
Not the safe house apartment. The
fortress–like mansion. The true seat of
Vescari power.
Every luxury Mirella had bragged about was
now mine. And more.
I had walk–in closets. Actually, several of
them, organized by style and cessen
them, organized by style and season.
If I complained too much, a personal stylist came every day to dress me. A hair and
makeup team analyzed my features and
customized everything. Skincare was
custom–mixed in a lab based on weekly skin
scans.
Severin hesitantly asked if I wanted any cosmetic surgery. The family doctor could arrange everything.
I said no.
No wonder Mirella looked so perfect. What woman would age inside this gilded cage?
Even the calluses from ten years of
scrubbing floors were softening. A young
woman like Mirella would be just fine.
Severin stopped “working late.” Sometimes.
he’d look at me with a shy expression.
“I’m sorry,” he’d say. “I’m sorry I wasted so
much of your time.”
He looked like the Severin I’d once loved. But
I couldn’t bridge the gap between us. No
matter how many times he knocked on my
door at night, I never let him in.
I’d look at the elegant woman in the mirror.
Then I’d hear the ghost of my mother’s
cough.
I’d think: You have all this. Why did you keep me in poverty and fear?
