PART 2
Austin stood beside my hospital bed wearing the same expensive watch he always adjusted whenever he wanted to remind people that he was “important.”
His mother, Eleanor, stood behind him, dressed in black, pretending to be grieving.
Neither of them asked how much pain I was in.
Neither of them looked at my cast.
They only looked at me like I was an inconvenience.
“Well?” Austin said again. “Are you ready to apologize?”
I stared at him.
“Apologize?”
“Yes.”
He leaned closer.
“For embarrassing my family.”
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood him.
I was lying in a hospital bed after a serious accident.
My leg was broken.
My body was exhausted.
And my husband was demanding an apology because I refused to cook.
Something inside me finally went completely quiet.
Not angry.
Not hurt.
Just finished.
“I think you should leave.”
Austin laughed.
“There it is. The attitude.”
Eleanor crossed her arms.
“This is exactly what I warned you about, Austin. She thinks because she had a little money before marriage, she’s better than us.”
I almost smiled.
A little money.
That was what they believed.
For three years, they believed I was a woman with no career, no ambition, and no power.
They never asked why I could afford our condo before Austin received his promotion.
They never questioned why his biggest business opportunities suddenly appeared after I started attending private company meetings.
They never wondered why his entire division received funding after my “family investment group” approved a strategic partnership.
Because Austin never thought I was someone worth understanding.
He only thought I was someone useful.
“Since we’re discussing finances,” Austin said, pulling out his phone, “maybe we should make things clear.”
The nurse near the door looked uncomfortable.
But Austin continued.
“When the divorce papers arrive, don’t expect anything.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“The condo is in my name.”
He smiled.
“The SUV payments come from my account.”
Then he lowered his voice.
“And the savings account? You know how much is there.”
He tapped his phone.
“Enough to make sure you regret leaving.”
I stared at him.
“Austin.”
“Yes?”
“Do you know whose money built that account?”
He frowned.
