Chapter 12 Yvette's Crush at Her Home

A dismissive laugh was heard through the phone, followed by a voice that dripped with arrogance. "Owen, it clearly states you're walking away with nothing in that divorce agreement you drafted. "It's only been a few days, and now you're asking for compensation and separation fees. Let's be real; isn't this all about money?" Yvette's tone was scornful, and I could imagine her smug, superior smile through the line. I kept my voice calm but cutting. "All about money? Yvette, that's rich coming from you. I don't have time for your games. You can think whatever you want, but you're paying that separation fee." "And why should I?" she shot back coolly. "Because for a whole year, I cooked every meal you ate, handled everything around the house, and took care of your parents. If you'd hired someone to do all that, it would've cost a small fortune. I was your housekeeper. So, a parting fee doesn't sound unreasonable, does it?" In truth, after everything I'd done for her over four years in this lifetime and the last, even two million wouldn't make up for it. But Yvette remained unfazed. "That's your job as a husband. And you're bragging about it?" My face flushed, embarrassed and angry. I never wanted her money, but right now, my uncle urgently needed financial support. Legally, I had a right to part of our shared assets—if anything, I was already being generous. "Yvette, yes, a husband is supposed to care for his wife. But a wife should also care for her husband. You've never done that. If I hadn't been looking out for you, who knows what state your health would be in by now? "Let's put it this way. A lot of our assets are marital property. Shouldn't I get a share?" There was a long pause before she finally said, "So?" "So, you'll give me my share of the money, and I'll make sure you never have to see me again. We can both move on." She gave a derisive laugh. "Your dad already called me about a new business project he wants me to invest in. Isn't that why you're so eager to divorce—to get money?" "I'll fund his project if you come with me to a family dinner," she added. My mood darkened instantly. My dad had been pestering her again, despite my warning. And now, he was dragging me into it too. Noting my silence, she continued, "Grandpa likes you. If you come to this dinner, I'll fund your dad's project, and you can stop making a fuss over this divorce." Alex genuinely cared about me. He'd even introduced me to her, declaring that I'd make a good husband and urging her to marry me. He'd always encouraged me to tell him if she treated me poorly, but I'd never felt comfortable complaining. Which was why she had grown bolder over time, treating me worse. "What if I refuse?" I challenged. Her tone softened slightly, "Over the past year, you've come to me so many times asking for help with your dad. I've never refused you. When you add it up, it's a huge sum—almost nine figures. What makes you think you're in a position to go against me?" I fell silent. She was right. My dad was greedy, constantly taking her support for granted. It was a huge amount that I couldn't afford, even if I sold my organs. And I had to admit that she had never let our family down, even if she didn't treat me well personally. Still, I hated that my family had taken so much from her. No matter the arrangement, once there was this much financial entanglement, even real feelings started to feel shallow and performative. "Fine," I replied. "But I'll amend the deal. You'll pay me two million in separation fees, and as for my dad's project, you can handle that however you want. Deal with him directly; leave me out of it." Another cold laugh sounded. "Whatever. I'll pick you up tomorrow." "Fine. I'm at—" I began, but she cut in smoothly, "Kenny's place." I was stunned. "How did you know that? Are you tracking me?" She scoffed, "You're broke, you don't stay in hotels, and you're not at your own place. So that leaves your one loser friend." Was she looking down on my friends now, too? Gritting my teeth, I retorted, "We're business partners now. Show some respect. Insult my friends again, and I won't hold back." She gave a dismissive hum, clearly not taking me seriously. As I hung up, I clenched my jaw, seething. Being a doormat for someone rich, powerful, and calculating was the worst kind of defeat. They could crush you financially, look down on you mentally, and leave you with no self-respect. Why did I ever fall for someone so cutthroat? And yet, would I have been as captivated if she weren't? I took a deep breath. "Fine. Pick me up tomorrow at ten." She murmured her agreement. In my last life, that family dinner had been humiliating. People ridiculed me as her "kept man", useful only as a housekeeper. They said our marriage was a business move, that any other man would have been better for her. She could've just kept me as a fling rather than marrying me. I was embarrassed but endured it as I loved her a lot. I didn't want her to have any conflicts with her business partner, but she hadn't defended me at all. She probably thought what they said made sense. Once, Lucas publicly humiliated me, saying I was impotent and suggesting we try for kids via IVF. Yvette just let me bear the humiliation without saying anything. Now, I knew she'd be even harsher since I'd just argued with Lucas about this very issue. I wanted to ask her what she took me for. Did she marry me just to satisfy her family? But then I heard a calm voice beside her. "Ms. Jenning, where did you leave the medicine? Your stomach's getting worse—you can't keep ignoring it…"