In the tenth year of my AA-marriage into a wealthy family, before I could fully wake up from the illusion of love, Ryan’s payment QR code was shoved right in my face. “The suite for tonight, you’re splitting the bill with me.” I barely had time to get dressed, fumbling for my phone. On the screen, my bank account balance showed a paltry thirty dollars. I awkwardly asked, “My paycheck doesn’t come until tomorrow. Could… could I pay you then?” Ryan just smiled at me, a hint of something unreadable, perhaps mockery, in his gaze: “That million dollars you used to betray me ten years ago, is it all spent? If you don’t want to split the bill… then just pretend you’re a street girl. We’ll go again, and I won’t charge you.” My eyelashes fluttered down. I said nothing more, just silently transferred the money. Only then did he get up to shower. What exactly happened ten years ago was a complete blank in my memory. When I woke up in the hospital, everyone told me that after Ryan and I eloped, I couldn’t stand the hardship. I’d gone to his mother, demanded a million dollars, and promised to leave him. A few blurry fragments flashed through my mind, and my head throbbed. Just then, Ryan’s phone chimed a few times. As if possessed, I picked up the phone and unlocked it. On the screen were a few suggestive photos from his secretary. “Mr. Howard, when are you divorcing that old hag?” My hands trembled as I morbidly scrolled through all their chat history, from their explicit flirtations to discussing rendezvous points. My tears dried and re-wet on my cheeks. Finally, I typed a reply: “Tomorrow.” 1. At two in the morning, I tiptoed out of bed. It was time to clean the restrooms at the Howard Group building. Ten years ago, I’d agreed to an AA-marriage with Ryan, but the expenses of high society were far more exorbitant than I’d imagined. Even if I ate nothing but plain pasta, just living in that villa meant monthly maintenance fees that were a colossal sum to me. And Ryan’s mother had “kindly” offered me a job: a restroom cleaner at the Howard Group. Even though I knew it was an insult, I accepted. Because I didn't know where else I could find a fifty-thousand-dollar-a-month job to maintain my chance of staying by Ryan’s side. Luckily, starting tomorrow, I wouldn’t need to. Today’s cleaning solution was particularly acrid, and my eyes stung repeatedly. It wasn’t until nine in the morning that I finished cleaning all the restrooms in the entire building. This was Ryan’s mother’s requirement. She’d looked at my clean, unblemished hands with a smile then, saying softly, “Ophelia, before everyone starts work, all the restrooms in the building need to be sparkling clean. You can manage that, can’t you?” I’d gritted my teeth and agreed, even though my hands were once meant for painting. Exhausted, I huddled in the last utility closet in the restroom for a break. “Bang bang bang!” A loud knocking startled my heart. I opened the door, and there stood Ryan’s secretary, Laura. She was dressed impeccably in a professional suit, looking down at me. “Oh, Mrs. Howard, so you’re hiding out here, are you? The ladies’ room in the second stall is clogged. Could you please clear it?” Her words were polite, but her sarcastic gaze pierced straight through my faded cleaner’s uniform. My fists clenched tightly, my nails digging deep into my palms, though I barely felt it. Finally, I put on my mask and numbly nodded. Seeing me take out a long pair of tweezers, Laura raised a hand to stop me. “Mrs. Howard, the company’s toilets are all new. Each one is a smart toilet worth a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Using tools like that might damage it…” I frowned, “Then what do you want me to do?” “You figure something out. Just no tools…” The implication couldn’t have been clearer. I knew she wouldn't give up unless I did as she wished. Thinking my paycheck hadn’t arrived yet, I didn’t want any more trouble. I mechanically knelt down. My stomach churned, whether from the smell or the emotion, sour bile rising in my throat. Tears silently fell, hidden by my mask. Under her watchful, amused gaze, I began to work. As the foreign object was pulled from the toilet, I heard a few clicks of a camera behind me. “Mrs. Howard, I’ve sent your hard-working picture to the company group chat, okay? Your spirit of not fearing hardship is truly inspiring!” Laura said, smiling at me. I paid no mind to her words, staring blankly at the purple sheer thong in my hand. It was the one she’d worn in the photos she’d sent last night. Laura’s delicate brow furrowed, feigning embarrassment: “Oh, how did this end up here? Could it be with Mr. Howard that day…” She said, “I’m so embarrassed! I was going to Mr. Howard’s office to report, and he wanted to see me in it!” “Mrs. Howard, could you do me a favor and run a quick errand? There’s a self-service store a few blocks away. Could you pick one up for me?” She pulled a few thousand dollars from her pocket and, without asking, shoved it into my hand. As I walked from the restroom to the main entrance of the building, people I passed avoided me as if I carried a plague. Those who walked by me covered their noses and chuckled lightly. I heard someone say, “These gold-diggers are really working for it!” As I carried the item back towards the Howard Group, I clutched my numb heart, thinking: What have I gained? Ten years of marriage, only zero in savings, and a lover who didn’t love me. With a notification of a payment received, I felt all the strength drain from my body. The spirit and feelings that ten years hadn’t managed to extinguish now vanished into thin air. I took the thong and the two documents I had prepared, walking towards Ryan’s office. One was a resignation letter, the other a divorce agreement. 2. Before pushing open the door to Ryan’s office, I glanced at his secretary’s desk outside. It was empty. Seeing me enter, Ryan looked up, his face flushed with an ambiguous color. “What are you doing in here?” His voice was hoarse, his tone carrying an underlying restraint. Ten years ago, he’d used that same tone, tenderly and lingeringly, to call me: “Lily.” “Ophelia?” he called me. The coldness in his voice snapped me back to reality. I placed the items in my hand on his desk. “Your secretary asked me to buy these panties. Said you needed them urgently.” Ryan scoffed, raising an eyebrow: “You really can tolerate a lot to be Mrs. Howard, can’t you?” “This is my resignation letter…” Ryan looked at me with surprise, his cold remarks still unsaid. Then he heard me say calmly, “The other one is our divorce agreement.” Ryan’s eyes instantly cleared, filled with a sharp, scrutinizing coldness. His hand gripped the leather armrest of his chair tightly. He took several deep breaths before speaking, his face looking less than pleased. “Ophelia, playing hard to get won’t work on me.” If I didn’t know who was currently beneath his wide office desk, I truly might have mistaken his words as an attempt to keep me. “Mr. Howard, I’m tired.” “Tired?” Ryan laughed, his handsome features utterly devoid of emotion. “Ophelia, for ten years you couldn’t bear to leave the Howard family’s gilded cage. What makes you willing to leave today? Or have you found another sugar daddy with your looks?” “Don’t think I’ll go soft.” His words were like sharp blades, stabbing into my heart again and again. He picked up my divorce agreement with just two fingers, glanced at it dismissively, then flicked it into the air. The paper drifted lightly to the floor, like my dignity and my heart. His thin lips opened and closed, uttering cruel and vicious words. “I’m not agreeing to a divorce, Ophelia. I’m not done with you yet.” “Ow!” No sooner had the words left his lips than Ryan winced in pain. Perhaps his little mistress, upset that he wouldn’t divorce, was causing a scene under his desk. I let out a self-mocking laugh in my heart. After the brief amusement, ten years of pent-up grievances surged to the surface. I struggled to speak calmly, to maintain my last shred of dignity, but what came out was a trembling whisper, laced with tears: “Ryan, please, let me go…” 3. Ryan’s face changed. He slumped backward, utterly drained, hitting the backrest of his chair with a thud. He spoke, his voice carrying a suppressed anger: “Is being with me that unbearable?” “Please, let me go? I don’t want anything anymore…” The title of Mrs. Howard, I don’t want it. Ryan himself, along with our relationship, I don’t want it anymore. Even why I left him with a million dollars in the first place, I no longer care to investigate. That memory, that relationship, after I discovered his infidelity, it all became irrelevant. Ryan’s gaze dimmed, like a murky pool of black water. “Why? It’s always been you coming and going as you please. Did you ever consider my feelings for a single moment?” Every word sounded squeezed from between his back teeth; he clearly hated me. “My family disagreed, yet I eloped with you. The Howard Group blacklisted me, I couldn’t find work. I was willing to work construction, just so you could paint freely in your studio, but what did you do?” Ryan laughed, his eyes reddening without warning. “You played me like a dog. One day you swore eternal love, the next you went to my mother for a million dollars to go to the Northside.” “In your heart… I was only worth a million.” The Northside… A dark, damp basement, a sticky sensation flashed in my mind. I suppressed the uncomfortable feeling and forced a bitter smile: “I’ve already repaid you for ten years, Mr. Howard, isn’t that enough?” Ryan was about to say something else when someone pushed open the door and walked in. He quickly composed himself. The newcomer was Mr. Peterson, a key business partner of the Howard Group. “Mr. Howard, I saw the secretary wasn’t outside, so I came straight in.” Ryan grunted, biting his index finger slightly. Arguing with me had already drained a lot of his energy; he was now on the verge of exploding. Mr. Peterson, mistaking me for a cleaning lady, pulled out a contract from his bag. “Mr. Howard, we were very pleased with my last proposal. We’re here today to sign the contract.” He stepped forward with the contract, but Ryan raised a hand and growled, “Stop.” Mr. Peterson paused, startled, frowning slightly with displeasure. Ryan quickly amended, “I think the proposal could be even more perfect. Please wait while I gather everyone for a meeting.” Mr. Peterson chuckled, “Mr. Howard is certainly meticulous. Why don’t I call everyone to your office for a meeting now?” Saying this, Mr. Peterson, ignoring Ryan’s darkening face, called people to the meeting in the work group chat. Employees are always swift. Even though Ryan was on the top floor of the building, everyone arrived within a minute. They all looked expectantly at Ryan, wanting to know what still needed to be revised. Ryan was tense, suppressing his primal urges, and began discussing the proposal with everyone in a rigid, formal manner. I took out a rag, pretending to clean, moving from the office desk to the display cabinet behind it. Under the desk, I met Laura’s eyes. She glared at me venomously. I pulled out the purple thong I’d retrieved from the toilet that morning and, without hesitation, tossed it onto her. The damp, soiled fabric touched Laura, and she let out a disgusted gasp, scrambling out from under the desk. Just like that, dishevelled, she stood face-to-face with everyone.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "394924", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel