Chapter 8 No More Pretending

"Not as thick-skinned as you to ditch work to go on vacation with your mistress. I can't compete." As soon as Calvin spoke, I understood what was going on. It seemed our business partner had finally tracked him down. If I remembered correctly, the design draft for this project had been finalized long ago. The fact that they had sought me out likely meant the design needed revisions. I had been the one handling this project months ago, but after my health had deteriorated, work had been the last thing on my mind. I couldn't remember if Emily had been in the picture back then, but it was clear that someone had been by Calvin's side, so he hadn't cared about me. He'd assigned someone else to take over my project and instructed the finance department to withhold my wages. Yes, that's right. I was supposed to receive a salary, but now I had nothing. Calvin must have thought I'd be desperate and have to back down since I'd have to rely on him for survival. But he was wrong. I wasn't the type to back down, especially when I wasn't at fault. When we'd dated, he'd never been able to win an argument against me. Now, even though I was sick and my body was weak, my mind was still as sharp as ever. He stood no chance. "You come running to me when there's trouble. You only reach out when you need me, don't you? You're just a jerk who relies on your wife to clean up your mess. "Can't you even handle one project on your own, Mr. Pierce? Pathetic. Or maybe you just can't live without me? Can't you manage without me? Stop being disgusting." I'd been feeling much better these past few days, especially now that I had the money for my treatment. My confidence had returned. Last night, I'd looked into it again. It wouldn't be illegal even if I broke into his safe and took the money. We hadn't signed a prenuptial agreement before we'd gotten married. Even if I'd never worked, half of his assets were mine. At most, I'd be accused of damaging my personal assets. There was nothing the police could do about it. So what was my choice? Was it to die a slow death or tolerate him berating me? Obviously, the latter was easier since it didn't involve death. With my newfound confidence, I found my voice growing louder. Calvin clearly hadn't expected me to speak to him like this, especially after I had been silent for three years. He was at a loss for words. I wasn't interested in dragging out the conversation. Just as I was about to hang up, he sneered, "As expected of you. You're finally showing your true colors, huh? I wondered how long you could keep up the act. "You're even telling people you're in the hospital and acting all pitiful to gain sympathy. You really are something." "Calvin, I really am in the hospital." The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted it. He would never believe it. Sure enough, his laugh grew louder. "Stop acting. I asked the doctor, and it was just one stitch. What hospital stay? You think a little scratch is going to make me pity you? Dream on!" I closed my eyes as pain tugged at my chest again. Emily had gotten a minor cut, and Calvin had called for a doctor. I'd needed a stitch, and he thought it was nothing. But why hadn't he asked Ralph why I'd been in his office? Why hadn't he asked why I'd been in the oncology department? Why hadn't he questioned why the police had been the ones to call him and not me? Because he didn't care. So, there was no need for him to ask. All he could see was that I'd gotten one little stitch, yet I'd expected him to drop an important deal to come to the hospital. Worse, I was the reason his precious Emily had gotten an allergic reaction. I took a deep breath and said in a flat tone, "Fine, I'll go to sleep then. Maybe I'll dream." He yelled furiously, "Wait a minute! You've been handling this project from the start, and you have to see it through." "I quit." I hung up the phone. His commanding tone made me mad. His call came a few minutes later. When the phone rang for the third time, I yelled, "Calvin, are you stupid? I said I quit. Why are you still calling me?" The nurse hurried over to steady me, worried that I'd tear my stitches. I heard Calvin mutter under his breath, but I didn't catch it. Then, he repeated himself coldly, "You've been in charge of this project from the start. You need to see it through." I felt much calmer after yelling. I'd indeed led the project, and only the construction phase remained. Handling the project meant working again, and working meant earning money. After a few seconds, I asked, "How much will you pay me? You never gave me my share of the previous project's commission." I hadn't seen the project through back then, so my commission had been docked. "Is money all you care about, Summer? Is that all you ever think about? Does money mean that much to you?" I could practically picture him gritting his teeth, nearly grinding his molars to dust. Whenever he was mad at me, he would always bite down hard and enunciate every syllable of my name. I calmly answered, "Yes. What else is there?" If I had money, I could survive. I'd die without it, and it would be a painful death, too. If money wasn't important, what else was? I closed my eyes for a moment and waited for his response. After what felt like a minute, he finally spoke. "Fine, if money is all you care about, I'll give you the full commission." I exhaled in relief and added one last thing. "And the base salary and overtime pay." "I'll give you everything!" He angrily hung up the phone, and I felt much better. Great. With the project commission, I wouldn't need to break the display cases for now.