The CEO's wife, Scarlett Sterling, hoping to ensure her childhood sweetheart, Asher Hayes, could successfully inherit his family's vast fortune, pressed me to agree to a sham divorce. She expected me to walk away from our marriage with nothing, yet promised me 50% of her company shares upon signing. Asher Hayes watched her, his eyes narrowed with jealousy. "Scarlett, are you truly giving Liam Carter the shares?" Scarlett scoffed, "Him? Please. The stock transfer agreement he's holding is fake. Besides, with his brain, he'll probably never figure out the truth before he dies." Asher's eyes flickered. "You're not actually going to remarry him, are you? What about me? You promised we'd get married." Scarlett paused, then sneered, "That's even less likely. Don't worry, I always keep my promises. I won't let you down." Standing just outside the study door, listening to my wife's unmasked words, I lowered my gaze to my leg – broken by her when I refused the divorce. With a flat expression, I pushed open the study door, offering no rebuttal. I remained calm, signing the divorce agreement without a fuss. Scarlett beamed. "I knew Liam would understand. Here, take this transfer document. The paperwork will be finalized in three days." I smirked, taking the document. She had no idea. Asher's supposed massive inheritance was nothing more than a glittering façade, hollowed out from the inside. The moment she married Asher, all she'd be left with was financial ruin, losing everything she had! 1 I clutched the share transfer document, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. To think, Scarlett Sterling and I had been married, only for it to come to this. Seeing my expression, Scarlett and Asher exchanged a knowing glance, their gazes momentarily filled with mocking amusement. As I reached the door, Asher's impatient voice cut through the air behind me: "Scarlett, since you're divorced, shouldn't Liam move out? It's just not right for a divorced man to still be living in his ex-wife's house. What would people say?" I turned, looking at Scarlett. She was engrossed in her phone, offering no reaction. "Don't worry," I said coldly, "I'll be out today. I won't be an eyesore." When I emerged from my room again, Asher was already directing the Sterling household staff: "Change the decor in this place. It's so tacky, so ugly. Clearly Liam's taste. Seven years married into the Sterling family, and he still hasn't shed his provincial tastes. So uncouth." I surveyed the surroundings. While I had overseen the renovation, Scarlett herself had chosen this style, claiming it had a charming Old World feel and that she'd want to live here forever. "Forever" had lasted a mere seven years, it seemed. Asher pointed around, then caught sight of me. He grinned. "Hurry up and clear out Liam's room. I'm going to turn it into a bathroom—" The butler, Mr. Davies, looked up, thinking he'd misheard. Asher's hand lashed out, slapping him. "You old fool, are you deaf? Get that room cleared out now!" Under duress, Mr. Davies bowed. "You heard him. Pack up Mr. Carter's belongings, now!" But Asher stopped him. "Who are you calling 'Mr. Carter'? I'm the man of the house now, you blind, deaf idiot!" Mr. Davies lowered his head, apologizing. Asher wouldn't let up, insisting on supervising personally. He turned to me. "I'll watch myself. Let's see who dares to sneak Liam anything that isn't his. I'll skin them alive!" Meeting Asher's triumphant gaze, I ignored him, turning my wheelchair toward my room. Asher stood in the doorway, looking at Scarlett's bedroom down the hall. He sneered. "Liam, you probably don't know this, but it was my idea for Scarlett to move out of your room. "I heard you two argued about it. Well, your spot in that room? It's mine now." Scarlett and I had indeed argued, not just about separate rooms, but her insistence on keeping a room for Asher: "Liam, Asher doesn't have much family. What's so bad about him moving in? We're all friends; it's just adding an extra plate. Why are you making such a big deal?" Seeing Scarlett's firm expression then, I couldn't argue, so I let her have her way. Just then, a sharp crash jolted me from my thoughts. Ceramic shards scattered across the floor. It was the handcrafted mug Scarlett had made for me, her first gift. Asher jumped, then kicked the fragments near him. "What a worthless piece of junk." "Hurry up and clean this mess. I have things to do." He stood by the door, watching. I looked at the scattered pieces. I said nothing. We were divorced now; it didn't matter if it shattered. Of all the things Scarlett had given me in our seven years of marriage, this mug was the only one I treasured. Because back then, she truly had cared for me. Then Asher returned to the States, and her attitude toward me changed overnight. Even her gifts became laden with ulterior motives. Later, whenever Mr. Davies brought me a gift, I knew Scarlett was with Asher and wouldn't be home that night. Our seven years of marriage meant so little to her; it couldn't hold her heart, which swayed so easily toward Asher. Just for a word from Asher, she'd divorce me, even concocting a fake agreement to keep me placated. Thinking of her words in the study, my heart clenched. I looked down at my leg, numb with pain from the injury, and felt only coldness. I had only refused the divorce, and she had utterly disregarded our years together. In her eyes, perhaps only Asher had ever truly existed. With that thought, I glanced at the bedroom, then turned my wheelchair, heading downstairs. My luggage consisted of a few sets of clothes and nothing else. But Asher suddenly appeared behind me, pushing my wheelchair. It careened out of control, heading straight for the stairs. Too late to recover, I tumbled down the staircase, a sickening crunch of bones echoing in my ears. The loud thud drew Scarlett from the study. "Liam! What have you done now to frame Asher?!" My words of accusation caught in my throat. She didn't even look at me, immediately rushing to Asher's side. This wasn't the first time. She grabbed Asher's hand, examining it carefully, noticing a slight scrape on his palm. Her brow furrowed in anger. "Liam, you always resort to these pathetic tricks! Do you really think I'm a fool who can't see through you? "Last time your hand mysteriously broke, you claimed Asher pushed you. And what happened? It turned out you did it yourself. Are you trying to say Asher pushed you again this time?" I wanted to argue, but the words wouldn't come out. Asher had pushed me that time, causing my hand to break, but the surveillance footage showed me intentionally smashing it. Scarlett had instantly declared I was framing Asher. She not only shielded Asher but also confined me to the house, punishing me by refusing to let me see a doctor, even forbidding the staff from helping. My hand missed its critical treatment window, leaving a permanent tremor. Seeing my silence, Scarlett became even more convinced. "Liam, we're past this. How long do you plan to sit there acting out a scene?" I managed a bitter smile. When I tumbled down the stairs, my other leg had hit the marble banister, surely fracturing it. I couldn't move even if I wanted to. Just then, Mr. Davies wheeled my luggage out. "Ms. Sterling, the custom order has been placed at the front door." Scarlett's expression instantly softened. 2 It was the custom artwork she had commissioned. Thinking of it, she smiled. "Mr. Davies, get two careful staff members to bring that in. Don't damage it." Then she glanced at me, her voice cold. "If he wants to lie there, let him. No one is to help him." She took the first-aid kit from a staff member, sat on the sofa, and meticulously tended to the scrape on Asher's palm. Seeing the triumph in Asher's eyes, I turned my head, unable to bear the sight. I tried to move, to struggle up, but the slightest shift sent a jolt of pain up my leg, leaving me speechless. I fumbled in my empty pocket, remembering my phone had shattered a few days ago, and I hadn't replaced it yet. Now, I couldn't even help myself. The next moment, all the photo frames on the living room wall were stripped bare. Photos of Scarlett and me were tossed onto the floor like garbage. I looked at the scattered photos, reminders of happier times with Scarlett. She had said time passes quickly, and when we were old, these photos would be proof of all the storms we'd weathered together. She'd never throw them away, she'd promised. I scoffed. It seemed I was the only one who took her words seriously. When I looked up again, new photos adorned the wall. Scarlett still smiled beautifully, but the person beside her was no longer me. It was Asher. Just then, the staff brought in the artwork, promptly framing it on the most prominent empty wall in the living room. Seeing this, I understood. That blank wall had always been reserved for Asher. I had suggested making it a wall of relief sculptures, but Scarlett had always reacted with unusual irritation. I'd thought she was just tired from work, planning to bring it up again later. But after a few more attempts were met with firm rejections, I'd dropped the idea. Now, it was clear she had plans all along; she just hadn't wanted to tell me. The staff's hushed whispers reached my ears. They thought Asher and Scarlett were a better match, more like a proper couple. "Look, his posing is exactly like the former son-in-law's. They really are a perfect match." I looked up at the artwork, noticing it for the first time. Asher's pose was indeed identical to mine in old photos. Was this what he meant by "replacing me"? Just as the framing was complete, Scarlett finished bandaging Asher. Scarlett nodded, satisfied. "Be careful when handling these. These artworks are worth a million dollars." She paused, then looked at Asher, smiling. "Also, Asher says you all worked hard. Your salaries are doubled this month." The staff, hearing this, immediately showered Asher with praise. "Ms. Sterling is so generous to Mr. Hayes, casually spending millions. I heard Mr. Hayes gets a huge inheritance when he marries. Is it true?" "Don't call him 'Mr. Hayes' anymore; it should be 'Mr. Sterling,' like the son-in-law. Ms. Sterling always told us to prioritize Mr. Hayes's requests. Who would have thought…" "It's about time. Liam was never a good match for Ms. Sterling. He got off easy enjoying a few years of luxury. To dream of a lifetime with Ms. Sterling? Impossible!" Listening to them fawn over Asher, I didn't bother to speak. Right or wrong, it was all just their gossip, useless beyond mere chatter. Asher basked in the staff's adulation, his gaze turning even more smug as he looked at me. Their chatter faded as several formally dressed individuals entered. The lead one spoke: "These are the three-million-dollar jewels Mr. Hayes ordered. Please confirm receipt." The staff gasped again. Asher, beaming, took the box and handed it to Scarlett. "Scarlett, do you like them? I had them specially custom-made for you." Asher emphasized "specially," his eyes provocatively flicking to me. Scarlett's eyes welled up. "Thank you, Asher." Asher's eyes twinkled. He feigned surprise. "Did Liam never get you proper jewelry?" Before Scarlett could reply, the onlookers from the staff chimed in: "We've never seen anyone treat Ms. Sterling as well as you do, Mr. Hayes! We're so happy for her." Asher looked at Scarlett with feigned heartache. "Scarlett, don't worry. I'll treat you even better from now on. I won't disappoint you." He suddenly remembered the grand wedding he'd been planning for so long. He turned to me, a wide grin spreading across his face. "In three days, it's my wedding with Scarlett. You're welcome to attend." "No need for a gift, though. Your signature on the divorce papers is the best gift I could ask for." "But do you even have proper clothes? Wouldn't want you to make a fool of yourself. Scarlett and I wouldn't care, but I'd be worried about you getting pointed at." I froze for a moment. They were getting married so soon. "Fine," I said, a cold laugh escaping. "I'll be there." How could I miss this spectacular show? It seemed they had no idea that "inheritance" was nothing but a front for a mountain of debt. I couldn't wait to see their faces when they learned the truth. 3 Scarlett frowned. "Asher, don't let him ruin the mood. Besides, he'd only make a spectacle of himself!" Asher shrugged. "What are you afraid of, Scarlett? Look at him now. What kind of trouble can he cause? "It'll be good for him to see what a real wedding of the century looks like!" With Asher's words, Scarlett had no rebuttal. She shot a disdainful glance at my blood-stained pants. "Mr. Davies, take him to the hospital. Don't let this delay the wedding in three days." Mr. Davies immediately called for help to take me out. As I was wheeled past them, they both recoiled with expressions of disgust, as if something utterly vile had passed by. They didn't know that same expression would soon be directed at them, only this time, it would be from everyone else. Wedding day. Scarlett was already preparing backstage. When she saw me, her smile instantly froze. "Liam, I thought you were just talking. I can't believe you actually had the nerve to show up." "Since you're here, take a good look. Asher's wedding is far grander than yours ever was. This is what a wedding of the century looks like!" By then, many guests had arrived, and Scarlett's bridesmaids came over. Someone recognized me, sneering, "Isn't that Liam Carter? What's he doing here? Don't tell me he's planning to crash the wedding and win her back?" "Look at him. Does he even stand a chance? If Scarlett hadn't been waiting for Asher and her family hadn't pressured her to marry, he'd never have become a rich son-in-law. These past few years of luxury were a charity case for him." Laughter rippled through the crowd. It was then I realized. The reason she had suddenly changed her mind and married me overnight wasn't because she loved me, but merely to pass the time, waiting for Asher's return. I clenched my fists. "Scarlett, is what they're saying true?" Seeing my face darken, Scarlett looked startled for a moment, then admitted frankly: "So what if it is? Haven't you lived well in the Sterling family all these years? Haven't you enjoyed a lavish lifestyle?" So, she thought I was only with her for her money? All these years, I had abandoned my own career aspirations, willingly marrying into the Sterling family as a live-in son-in-law, wholeheartedly caring for her parents. And in the end, this was what she thought of me. I had been a fool for seven entire years. It was utterly ridiculous. Seeing my silence, she tossed a divorce certificate at me. "The paperwork is done. Here's your divorce certificate." I picked it up, dusting it off. "Scarlett, do you really think you and Asher are getting a huge inheritance?" "I'm telling you, it's nothing but an empty promise, a pipe dream." My words hung in the air. Scarlett immediately slapped me twice, pointing to the door. "Liam, get out! Now!" Asher brought her a glass of brandy. "Scarlett, the ceremony is about to start. Let's enjoy the show. Watch how some people turn green with envy." Others chuckled, saying I was just bitter and jealous. Amidst the chorus of well wishes, the ceremony quickly concluded. Scarlett and Asher stood on stage, waiting for Mr. Miller, the attorney handling Mr. Sterling's will. Guests whispered among themselves: "The Sterling family hit the jackpot! This son-in-law... I heard the Sterling inheritance is enormous, a truly astronomical sum..." "Why didn't that luck fall on me?" "You know, yesterday I dreamt of gold in the Sterling family. Who knew it would come true? But for someone else..." Asher listened, immensely pleased. He promised Scarlett, "Once we sign, we'll use a portion of this money to invest in your company, and get it listed on the stock exchange as soon as possible." Scarlett nodded, her eyes triumphant as she looked at me. The next moment, Mr. Miller, dressed in a sharp suit, appeared on stage. After a few polite words, he got straight to the point. Mr. Miller wasted no time, opening the sealed will envelope for all to see. I let out a cold laugh, shaking my head at the expectant expressions on Scarlett's and Asher's faces. Asher caught my eye. "Liam, green with envy, aren't you?" he taunted casually. "If you're willing to bark like a dog right here, right now, maybe I'll be generous and give you ten grand for the performance." The guests near me chuckled, their gazes at me turning to undisguised contempt. Mr. Miller took out the will and began to read aloud: "As per the wishes of the late patriarch of the Sterling family, Mr. George Sterling, I hereby publicly announce his last will and testament." "The Sterling estate comprises ninety-nine residential properties, thirty commercial plots, and forty-six percent of Sterling Enterprises shares…" Mr. Miller hadn't even finished when the room erupted in chatter. Some guests immediately began to flatter Asher, praising his boundless future and how his marriage to the Sterling family was simply icing on the cake. In an instant, Sterling Enterprises' valuation soared. Asher, full of himself, said, "What do you say, Liam? It's too late to bark like a dog now. How about you crawl like a dog, barking as you go? Maybe then I'll still give you that ten grand." The surrounding crowd roared with laughter, some even cheering him on. However, at that very moment, Mr. Miller's voice cut through the noise, clear and cold: "The inheritance designated for the deceased's distant relative, Asher Hayes, is zero—" The entire hall gasped, everyone dumbfounded. Only Mr. Miller's steady voice continued. He paused, looking at Asher. "And an additional one hundred million dollars in personal debt."
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