Chapter 4

After that night, Carter and I fell into a bitter cold war.

Eleanor, on the other hand, strutted around like a triumphant rooster, finding new ways every single day to stake her claim over the house.

She even swapped out all my high-end skincare products for her cheap, sketchy brands, declaring:

"Those luxury brands are loaded with harsh chemicals. They ruin your skin. Mommy is doing this for your own good."

I didn't even bother arguing. I tossed everything straight into the trash and ordered replacements online.

That weekend, I came down with a raging fever, lying in bed weak and shivering.

Instead of checking on me, Carter was summoned into the kitchen by Eleanor's shrill cry.

"Carter! Mommy cut her finger with the knife! It hurts so bad!"

Carter’s panicked voice echoed through the hallway: "Quick, Mom, let me see! You're bleeding! Come on, we're going to the ER right now!"

Supporting myself against the wall, I dragged my shaking body out. Eleanor’s finger had nothing more than a microscopic scratch—barely a speck of dried blood.

Yet Carter was acting like the sky was falling, scooping her up in his arms to rush out.

Leaning against the doorframe, I whispered weakly, "Carter, I have a 102-degree fever. Can you drop me off at urgent care on your way?"

Carter stopped, turning his head. His eyes were dripping with disgust and impatience.

"Chloe, stop faking it, will you? It’s just a fever! Take some Tylenol and sleep it off! Mom has an open wound! What if it gets infected?!"

Eleanor nestled in his arms, whispering feebly:

"Carter, don't worry about me... take Chloe first. She's a fragile princess who can't handle anything. These old bones of mine can take it."

A masterclass in playing the martyr.

Naturally, Carter lost his mind even more. "Mom! Stop talking nonsense! Your hand is the priority! She's just being an overdramatic brat!"

Without another backward glance, he carried Eleanor out the door.

The heavy entrance door slammed shut with a deafening bang.

My legs gave out, and I slid down against the floor. Tears finally spilled down my cheeks.

Not out of sorrow, but out of absolute disgust with myself.

How on earth had I been so blind to marry such a toxic mama's boy?

Gritting my teeth, I hauled myself up, poured a glass of water, and swallowed two fever reducers.

Then, I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time.

"Hello, Attorney Vance? It's Chloe. I want to consult you regarding divorce and asset division."

On the other end, Arthur Vance's voice was calm, sharp, and steady: "Chloe, are you certain?"

I looked around the cold, empty house, my gaze hardening into steel.

"Certain. And I don't just want a divorce. I want every single dime they stole from me returned with interest."

It was late evening by the time Carter and Eleanor returned.

Eleanor’s finger was wrapped in thick layers of gauze, looking as if it had been amputated.

Carter gently eased her onto the sofa, then barked at me:

"Chloe! Go get Mom some water! Don't you have any basic manners?!"

I sat curled up on the single armchair, holding a folder in my hands, not even sparing him a glance.

"Are your arms broken? Or did you lose your legs?"

Carter froze, clearly stunned that I had the guts to talk back.

He marched over, thrusting an angry finger in my face:

"What the hell is your problem?! Can't you see Mom is injured? What's so hard about serving your mother-in-law for once?!"

I looked up, my eyes dead and frigid.

"Carter, I'm saying this for the last time. I am your wife, not your family's maid."

"Here is the divorce agreement. Sign it."