Chapter 1

I broke up with my girlfriend, Abigail Bardot, at her lowest point. She clearly despised me, but when she became a CEO with a net worth of millions of dollars three years later, she pursued me, an ordinary office worker. I became the envy of others, but she ruined our loving and happy relationship three years into our marriage. She began bringing other men home, flaunting her affairs right before my eyes while laughing and flirting with them as if I were invisible. I became the fool she cheated on, but I never got angry. All I wanted was for her to be happy. However, Abigail got angry instead. Her nails dug deep into my skin as she yelled, "Are you even a man? Why won't you get mad?" … I stared at the ceiling blankly as I listened to their moans through the walls. The medical report in my hands became crumpled as I clutched onto it tightly. I was dying. I'd been diagnosed with a rare disease, so rare that it was even named after me—Gebb's disease. The doctors had offered me a spot in an overseas research trial. It was a slim hope that might buy me a few more years, though I'd be nothing more than their lab rat. But I'd already given up on treatments. My arms were marked with countless scars from needles. Even in the heat of summer, I had to wear long sleeves to hide them. I wanted a divorce. I wanted to leave this city and spend whatever days I had left seeing the world. Just then, my phone rang. "Hey, Samuel…" Abigail's sultry voice came through the phone. She was just in the next room, yet she couldn't even bother to call out to me in person. "Yes," I replied. I put away the medical report and then went to knock on the door of the next room. A handsome and muscular man opened the door. He was Ted Simmons, a new trainer at the gym nearby. He hadn't been to work for a week now, since becoming Abigail's new pet. Abigail had given him a luxurious car worth more than he could have made in his lifetime as a trainer. At that moment, sweat glistened on his muscular body. There were lipstick marks and traces of her kisses on his neck. He took a drag on his cigarette and blew a puff of smoke at me. I instinctively held my breath and swallowed down a wave of nausea. He threw me a disdainful and mocking glance as he said, "I'm going to take a shower. Remember to cook later. She wants to eat at home today." I ignored him and entered the room. The bed was a mess. Abigail sat casually on the armchair beside it, her silk robe slipping off one shoulder as she twirled a cigarette between her fingers. "Take a seat," she said flatly. A wave of smoke hit me once I approached. I gulped hard in disgust as I sat down. I'd always hated the smell of cigarettes. As a child in the orphanage, I was constantly bullied. The older kids, especially those who enjoyed picking on timid kids like me, would press burning cigarette butts into my palms before forcing me to swallow the ashes and filters. I could still remember the bitter, foul taste of them. Ever since then, the mere smell of smoke would make me nauseous. But even after three years of marriage, Abigail never noticed this. Or maybe she simply didn't care. Abigail glanced at me and tapped the bottle of red wine on the table. "Make lamb chops with red wine tonight. It's Ted's favorite dish." "Okay." I nodded blankly. The smell of lamb also turned my stomach, but my preferences had long since ceased to matter. Besides, there wasn't any point in saying anything now. After all, it would all be over soon. "Then, I'll go make dinner." "Stop right there!" Abigail frowned and asked, "Didn't you say that you had something to tell me? I didn't come all this way back just to hear you say a few words." I forced a smile and explained, "I was planning to tell you after cooking you one last meal. Abigail Bardot, let's get a divorce." For three years, I'd called her honey, baby, and Abi endearingly. Now, it seemed fitting to address her by her full name to put a clean end to this relationship once and for all. Abigail's face twisted in rage after I spoke, and the atmosphere became tense. She then grabbed the bottle of wine from the table and smashed it against my head. "What did you say?" Red wine mixed with my blood trickled down my forehead, and a ringing echo filled my mind. But Abigail wasn't done yet. She picked up the broken bottle and pressed the jagged edge against my throat. The sharp glass bit into my skin, and a stinging pain jolted through my body. With just a little push, it would pierce my neck. In the past, I could have easily brushed off her attacks, but now, in my weakened and sick state, I was as helpless as a lamb to be slaughtered. "I said, let's get a divorce." I remained calm, even in the face of death. Abigail suddenly burst out laughing. She tossed the wine bottle aside and gave me a maniacal smile. "You want a divorce? In your dreams! You'll never escape from me as long as you live." She grabbed my chin and forced me to look her in the eyes. They were filled with hatred and disgust. The pain in my head intensified, making it hard to think. I asked, "Why? There's no reason for us to keep this marriage." She had obviously never loved me, but she kept me trapped in this marriage for three years and refused to let me go, even now. "No," she said, shaking her head with a taunting smile. "I have every reason to do so. Watching you suffer with nowhere to go gives me great satisfaction. "Where were you when my family went bankrupt and my parents were dying? You heartless bastard! You ran the moment things got tough! "Now, I'll make sure that you can't escape even if you try. Even in death, I'll preserve your body just to keep you by my side forever!" I froze in place, and a bitter feeling surged within me. Three years ago, when Abigail had reappeared in my life and started pursuing me, I had thought that it was love. But now, every shred of love and tenderness that we had once shared felt like a stab to my heart. "Is this revenge?" I smiled bitterly. Abigail didn't answer immediately. She stood up and walked to the door, then said, "You deserve everything that's happening to you now. Get up and clean that disgusting wound of yours. Don't let any of your blood drip onto Ted's lamb chops!" I forced myself to my feet before tending to my wounds and cleaning up the mess in the room. Abigail had already gone off to take a shower. Ted was sitting on the couch, and he exhaled a puff of smoke as he glanced at me. "Samuel, a man should know his place. Abi doesn't want to get a divorce. It's not because she loves you. Instead, it's because she hates you that she won't let you go. "The longer you stay here, the worse it will be for her. You should leave if you have any sense. She doesn't need you. All she needs is me." I said nothing and walked into the kitchen to cook the lamb chops. Of course, I also wanted to leave and stay far away from Abigail. But unless we got divorced, the news of my death would definitely be a disturbance to her in the future. I just wanted to die quietly and alone. As I cooked, my heart twisted painfully. This had once been our home, filled with warmth and happy memories. Abigail had slowly torn it all apart, turning every memory into a source of pain. She had brought countless men to sleep in the bed we had once shared. Meanwhile, all I could do was cook them meals after their wild nights together. I wondered when she would finally let me go.