Divorce

I’ve been stalking my husband’s mistress.

She lives a glamorous life-she resides in a villa in an upscale neighborhood, drives a car worth millions, and is a pampered heiress.

Even when she’s out on a date with my husband, she has to be home by a certain time.

“I’m sorry, my father is very strict,” she would say.

To defend my marriage, I secretly took some photos and sent a message to that strict father of hers.

“Did you know your daughter is someone’s mistress?” It took a long time before he finally replied. “I know.” “I’m the one she’s cheating on.”

I committed suicide.

On New Year’s Eve, when families gather together.

But I never expected that my ex-husband, who had always been indifferent to me, would go mad with revenge against those who treated me badly after my death.

He even wanted to die for me.

Yet when I was alive, he clearly didn’t love me.

When Nie Feng and I were about to file for divorce, he was in a car accident and lost his memory.

His memory was stuck eight years in the past.

Eight years ago, he loved me the most.

On the day the divorce was finalized, I booked a high-speed rail ticket back to my hometown. A phone, an ID card, and a bank card with a meager balance were all I had left.

When the butler called to say the young master was crying for his mother, I finally understood that the son I had borne and his father loved the same woman.

Before the train left, I made one last promise: I would never disturb him again.

I picked up my boyfriend’s phone by mistake, only to see a message his ex had just sent: “I forgot to take the morning-after pill that night.”

Those few short words left me chilled to the bone.

The night before last, I had a sudden bout of acute gastroenteritis. He was supposedly working overtime at the office, and I called him over a dozen times, but I couldn’t get through.

Enduring the piercing pain, I eventually took a taxi to the hospital alone at three in the morning.

As it turns out, the reason his phone was off and he never came home that night was that he was with his ex-girlfriend.

Fifteen years after getting married,

My husband suddenly wanted a divorce.

He said women over twenty-five are basically sixty-five.

I’m already thirty-eight. He said I’ve got one foot in the grave.

I was heartbroken.

Every time I thought about a future filled with money but no husband, sadness nearly suffocated me.

My husband found me annoying. He yelled at me.

“Would you seriously die without a man?”

I nodded. “I would.”

“Then just go die.”

I was miserable. I grabbed the 1.5 billion yuan I got in the divorce and ran out, crying.

I didn’t want to die, but I am a traditional woman at heart.

And a traditional woman simply can’t live without a man!

So, clutching all that money, I set out to find a new man.

But now my husband wasn’t happy about that either.

When the earthquake struck, Zhou Yan instinctively shielded me with his body, ending up with multiple fractures all over.

In the hospital room, the girl next door said enviously, “Your husband risked his life to save you. He really loves you.”

I forced a smile. “Yes.”

But just last night, after I had fallen asleep,

He slipped into the bathroom and gently comforted the young girl he kept outside.

“I’m fine, don’t cry, be good.”

“As long as I think of you, I’m not afraid of anything.”

Zhou Yan and I grew up together, from each other’s first love to today-it’s been ten years.

We’re the model couple everyone praises.

No one knows he keeps a stand-in outside.

Someone who looks just like me at eighteen, when we first got together.

The West Coast-style video I filmed of my son has gone viral.

But I’m not the one who’s famous.

It’s my son.

Netizens recognized him at a glance as a mini version of Liang Jingnian.

That man is the head of Xiyue Group and the renowned Crown Prince of the Jing Circle.

The more the internet dug, the more they found.

They even unearthed a video of Liang Jingnian and me breaking up, leading everyone to conclude that I’m the ex-girlfriend who ran away with his child.

I sighed. They’ve got it all wrong.

Liang Jingnian and I weren’t just dating-we were actually married.

After my husband cheated on me, I jumped. I threw myself off the twenty-eighth floor.

The wind howled past my ears as I closed my eyes. I had already done the math. Each floor in our complex was three meters high, making the twenty-eighth floor eighty-one meters up. From the moment I leaped until I hit the ground, I would have roughly four seconds.

Minutes earlier, my final conversation with Bai Yan had ended in disaster. I had screamed and ranted hysterically; I had begged and pleaded like a dog wagging its tail for scraps; I had even cursed him with the most vicious words and venomous language in existence. By the final moment, both of us were utterly drained. I sat on the edge of the balcony with my eyes rimmed red and my legs dangling in the air, asking him weakly, “Are you really set on this divorce?”

He looked at me calmly. The first time I had threatened suicide, he had been frantic with panic, but now his face held nothing but exhaustion. He asked me, “Are you quite finished making a scene?”

I said quietly, “If you leave today, I’m jumping.”

He gave me one long, deep look before turning to walk away. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang, and then I heard the sound of him waiting for the elevator.

My husband had an affair with the Married Woman downstairs.

I hid in the hallway, smoking with the Married Woman’s husband.

We didn’t dare return until they’d finished.

Later, they became even more brazen.

The Married Woman’s husband said, “I’m going to catch them in the act. What about you?”

I kept nibbling on my skewer, unconcerned.

“You go catch them, I’ll come too!”