Chapter 1

My mother was fighting for her life in the ICU, but my husband used my entire annual bonus to buy ten of the most expensive virtual "Universe" gifts for a TikTok female streamer.

Looking at the bank card with a balance of zero, I rushed to him.

"Did you touch my mother’s emergency medical fund?"

"Your mother is basically on her deathbed anyway. Why waste money on her?"

Martha, my mother-in-law, peeled off her face mask.

"It’s better to let my son spend that money to make himself happy."

My husband, Bradley, finally looked up, his tone incredibly nonchalant.

"Exactly. Why are you so obsessed with saving her?"

"She’s already sixty-eight. I’m doing you a favor by easing your financial burden."

Martha nodded. "My son is absolutely right."

Watching the two of them chime in together, I suddenly felt a wave of cold detachment.

I took out our marriage certificate, placed it on the table, and ripped it right down the middle.

"Tomorrow morning at nine. Meet me at my lawyer's office. We are getting a divorce."

Bradley’s face flushed with a fury I had never seen before.

"Divorce? Chloe, have you lost your mind? Over such a trivial thing?"

The "trivial thing" he was talking about was the money meant to keep my mother alive, which he had stolen to pamper some internet bimbo.

Behind him, Martha scoffed.

"What’s the big deal? Your mother is almost seventy. She already has one foot in the grave. Why throw good money after bad?"

"My Bradley is an only child. Do you know how much pressure he is under? What’s wrong with him spending a little money to blow off some steam?"

"Besides, since you married into our family, your money is Bradley's money. It is only natural for my son to spend his own money!"

In the three years of our marriage, I had covered every single household expense. I had never even seen his paycheck.

He told me that a man needed money to maintain his image and socialize for work.

And I, like a fool, believed him.

I pinched pennies, giving him the absolute best of everything. I bought him designer suits and luxury watches so he could walk out of the house looking prestigious.

Meanwhile, I hadn’t bought myself a single new piece of clothing in three years.

I thought our love was rock-solid. I thought we were each other's ultimate support.

Until the hospital bills and the freezing $0 balance on my banking app were slapped in my face at the same time.

Now, I wanted nothing more than to divorce him and take care of my mother.

"I’m going to say this one last time,"

I looked at Bradley, my voice completely devoid of emotion.

"Tomorrow morning at nine o'clock, in front of the attorney's office. Don't be late."

Bradley slammed his fist on the table and stood up, pointing his finger right at my nose.

"Chloe, you think you're so tough now, huh? Who do you think you are? If you leave me, how are you going to pay for your mother's hospital bills?"

"Don't think I don't know how much you make at that pathetic job of yours. If it weren't for me supporting you these past three years, you and your sick mother would be starving on the streets!"

"I’m telling you right now—kneel down, apologize to me, and I might just pretend this never happened. Otherwise, you and your mother can pack your bags and get kicked out of the hospital!"

Martha chimed in from the side, a sneer plastered across her face.

"Exactly. Don't throw away the mercy we're showing you. Having our Bradley marry you was the luckiest thing that ever happened to your miserable life."

"A useless woman who does nothing but lock herself in her room playing with old rags and threads. Do you honestly think you're some kind of artist?"

The "old rags and threads" she mockingly referred to were my passion, my soul—rare, gold-thread Gobelin tapestry weaving.

An inch of this tapestry was worth its weight in gold. It was a rare, ancient technique I had inherited from my grandmother.

But this craft was solitary, tedious, and took months of painstaking work. In this fast-paced modern world, it had been long forgotten by most.

They didn't understand it, and they looked down on it.

Aside from my regular job, I spent all my free time practicing and weaving at home.

In their eyes, I was just a useless housewife who depended entirely on Bradley.

Looking at their hideous faces, my heart went completely numb.

I didn't utter another word of argument. I turned around, went into the bedroom, and dragged my suitcase out from the bottom of the closet.

I didn't have many belongings. Just a few clothes I wore regularly, a wooden box containing all my weaving tools, and a scroll wrapped carefully in moisture-proof cloth that I had never shown to anyone.

"Oh, so you're actually leaving?"

Martha leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed as she spoke sarcastically.

"Don't you dare come back crying! My son is so successful, women who want to marry him are lining up from here to Paris!"

Bradley looked utterly smug. He lit a cigarette and blew a arrogant ring of smoke.

"Let her go. I want to see how many days she can survive without me. In less than three days, she’ll be on her knees, crying and begging me to take her back."