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40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 5
It seemed my answer hadn't struck the chord Megan was hoping for. Her face darkened like a storm cloud rolling in, and she slammed her plate on the table with a force that rattled the dishes. Without another word, she turned and marched into the bathroom, leaving me alone with the mess of her temper. As I sat there, her phone lit up on the table. The young girl at the law firm's words echoed in my mind. I picked up the phone. No password, no lock—just sitting open on a chat with that scoundrel, Zack. [12:09: Are you coming today?][12:34: Not sure.][One minute ago: Come.] I glanced at the bathroom door, ears tuned for the sound of water or movement, and swiftly forwarded the messages to the law firm's young clerk. The moment I set the phone back down, a strange sense of lightness settled over me, like a great weight had finally been lifted.The next day, a message came through from the girl at the law firm. The divorce papers were ready, and they'd already started the p
40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 6
I took the tissue and turned my gaze to the person beside me. Her hair was neatly tucked behind her ears, her face carrying a few wrinkles but no sign of weariness. She looked to be about my age. On her wrist was a modest yet elegant watch, matching her understated and refined demeanor. "The first time I saw a view like this, I cried too," she said, her voice casual and unintrusive. She didn't ask why I was crying, and her natural way of speaking put me at ease. "I'm Dolores Spencer. And you?" "Sam Chandler," I replied. We stood there together, watching the sea until the sun dipped below the horizon. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "The restaurant on the yacht's top deck is quite good. Want to grab a bite?"Before boarding this yacht, the travel agency staff had explained that the top-deck restaurant was the most expensive onboard. For simpler meals, there were complimentary options on the middle deck. Nervously rubbing my hands together, I admitted, "I've never been to an
40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 7
Hearing my response, Dolores's expression softened, her brow unfurrowing ever so slightly. "Ah, so it's the ex-wife clinging on for dear life, refusing to sign the divorce papers," she said, her tone calm but cutting. Then, she handed me a business card. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to contact me." I took the card, gave her a small nod, and watched her walk away. The moment Dolores disappeared from sight, Tommy turned his eyes toward me, his face twisted with disdain. "You've got a lot of nerve even mentioning that divorce agreement," he spat. "Mom has worked just as hard for this family as you have for the past forty years. What gives you the right to demand she leave with nothing? Is it because she never held a formal job? You think that means she won't fight back?"It was high time he heard the truth. My face remained calm as I replied, "I demanded your mother leave with nothing because, for forty years—every single year, every single month—she was unfaithful." I
40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 8
The law firm sent me word: Zack wanted to settle out of court. Now, I confess, the prospect intrigued me. I was curious to see what sort of yarn he'd spin. When I entered the meeting room, it didn't surprise me one bit to find Megan sitting alongside him. They looked like two peas in a pod, those two, after spending so much time together, thick as thieves for years. I took a seat across from them with my lawyer. Looking at them now, side by side, they resembled nothing so much as a couple forged in mutual mischief. Megan broke the ice first. "Sam, all of this is my fault. Can we not drag Zack into this? I'll compensate you." I brushed a hand over my freshly dyed black hair. "No." Her eyes narrowed. "Why not?" "Because," I said, my gaze flicking over the pair, "you're not the sort to take responsibility."I smiled faintly and leaned back. "If you truly had any spine, you'd have refused our arranged marriage outright and eloped with Zack back then. But you didn't. You coul
40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 9
Not long ago, Megan had been held up as a shining example of domestic bliss. Both her and Zack were portrayed as a model couple, paraded around as an emblem of marital success. So when this scandal broke, it rippled through the air like a stone tossed into still water. People who once called her a friend were now stunned to discover that the couple they had admired was nothing more than a pair of cheaters, caught in their own tangled web of infidelity. Her gambling parlor, the pride of her so-called successful life, folded under the weight of her transgressions. But what really took me by surprise was seeing her waiting for me at the hotel entrance. I led her to my room's door, and before I could speak, she broke down in tears, snot running down her face. "I know I've wronged you, Sam. Can you ever forgive me?" she wailed. "I swear, I'll spend the rest of my life taking care of you."She was terrified I wouldn't believe her, it seemed, for she suddenly dropped to her knees in
40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 1
For forty years, my wife had been deceiving me. I sat there, frozen on the couch, flipping through the stack of remittance slips, each one a punch to the gut as I slowly came to grips with the truth. The slips ranged from handwritten notes to printed forms, and I looked over them again and again. What hit me was undeniable: Since the day we got married, forty years ago, my wife had been secretly sending money to some unknown account. Finally, I found the first page in the stack. Back in 1984, Megan Gibson and I had gotten married. The marriage was set up by our parents. We'd barely known each other for two months before tying the knot. After the wedding, she quit her job and stayed home to run the house. I'd always been touched by her sacrifice. I promised myself I'd work hard and give her the best life I could. Then luck struck, and I landed a job as a university lecturer. I couldn't wait to tell her, so I rushed home, all excited, and handed her an envelope. The envelop
40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 2
The photograph captured the both of them smiling sweetly, their heads tilted toward each other in an unmistakable display of intimacy. On the back, their names were inscribed in neat handwriting: Megan Gibson and Zack Taylor. Beside Zack's name, there was a poetic note in the same familiar handwriting: "No one compares to you." Beneath the photo, a small line of red print caught my eye:—Victoria Photo Studio. That was the first photography studio in our town. I had once suggested taking a family portrait there with Megan and our son, only to be chastised in the middle of the street. "Do you know how expensive one photograph is? That money could buy enough meat to feed our son for days!" she had snapped. I never brought it up again. Now I understood why she had already known the price of a photograph without asking. She had gone there before—just not with me. As I examined the photo, my eyes were drawn to the suit she wore in it. It was one of those premium pieces from
40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 3
My heart felt a pang of bitterness as my eyes fell upon Tommy's bag, left behind on the sofa. Recalling that the restaurant they'd mentioned wasn't far, I quickly slipped on my shoes, worried he might lack money to settle the bill, and hurried downstairs to deliver it. When I arrived at the restaurant, just as I was about to step inside, the scene through the glass window froze me in my tracks. There they were—my son, his wife, my wife. And, seated among them as if he belonged, my wife's first love. The four of them sat together, laughing and chatting with a warmth I could hardly remember being a part of, like they were the real family and I was a forgotten shadow. Swallowing my anger, I walked in and handed the bag to Tommy. "You left your bag behind. I was afraid you wouldn't have money to pay." He crossed his arms, his tone sharp. "Weren't you not coming?" His words stung, but I masked my pain, turned to leave, and was halfway out when I heard his sneering voice behind
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40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 9
Not long ago, Megan had been held up as a shining example of domestic bliss. Both her and Zack were portrayed as a model couple, paraded around as an emblem of marital success. So when this scandal broke, it rippled through the air like a stone tossed into still water. People who once called her a friend were now stunned to discover that the couple they had admired was nothing more than a pair of cheaters, caught in their own tangled web of infidelity. Her gambling parlor, the pride of her so-called successful life, folded under the weight of her transgressions. But what really took me by surprise was seeing her waiting for me at the hotel entrance. I led her to my room's door, and before I could speak, she broke down in tears, snot running down her face. "I know I've wronged you, Sam. Can you ever forgive me?" she wailed. "I swear, I'll spend the rest of my life taking care of you."She was terrified I wouldn't believe her, it seemed, for she suddenly dropped to her knees in
40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 8
The law firm sent me word: Zack wanted to settle out of court. Now, I confess, the prospect intrigued me. I was curious to see what sort of yarn he'd spin. When I entered the meeting room, it didn't surprise me one bit to find Megan sitting alongside him. They looked like two peas in a pod, those two, after spending so much time together, thick as thieves for years. I took a seat across from them with my lawyer. Looking at them now, side by side, they resembled nothing so much as a couple forged in mutual mischief. Megan broke the ice first. "Sam, all of this is my fault. Can we not drag Zack into this? I'll compensate you." I brushed a hand over my freshly dyed black hair. "No." Her eyes narrowed. "Why not?" "Because," I said, my gaze flicking over the pair, "you're not the sort to take responsibility."I smiled faintly and leaned back. "If you truly had any spine, you'd have refused our arranged marriage outright and eloped with Zack back then. But you didn't. You coul
40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 7
Hearing my response, Dolores's expression softened, her brow unfurrowing ever so slightly. "Ah, so it's the ex-wife clinging on for dear life, refusing to sign the divorce papers," she said, her tone calm but cutting. Then, she handed me a business card. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to contact me." I took the card, gave her a small nod, and watched her walk away. The moment Dolores disappeared from sight, Tommy turned his eyes toward me, his face twisted with disdain. "You've got a lot of nerve even mentioning that divorce agreement," he spat. "Mom has worked just as hard for this family as you have for the past forty years. What gives you the right to demand she leave with nothing? Is it because she never held a formal job? You think that means she won't fight back?"It was high time he heard the truth. My face remained calm as I replied, "I demanded your mother leave with nothing because, for forty years—every single year, every single month—she was unfaithful." I
40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 6
I took the tissue and turned my gaze to the person beside me. Her hair was neatly tucked behind her ears, her face carrying a few wrinkles but no sign of weariness. She looked to be about my age. On her wrist was a modest yet elegant watch, matching her understated and refined demeanor. "The first time I saw a view like this, I cried too," she said, her voice casual and unintrusive. She didn't ask why I was crying, and her natural way of speaking put me at ease. "I'm Dolores Spencer. And you?" "Sam Chandler," I replied. We stood there together, watching the sea until the sun dipped below the horizon. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "The restaurant on the yacht's top deck is quite good. Want to grab a bite?"Before boarding this yacht, the travel agency staff had explained that the top-deck restaurant was the most expensive onboard. For simpler meals, there were complimentary options on the middle deck. Nervously rubbing my hands together, I admitted, "I've never been to an
40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 5
It seemed my answer hadn't struck the chord Megan was hoping for. Her face darkened like a storm cloud rolling in, and she slammed her plate on the table with a force that rattled the dishes. Without another word, she turned and marched into the bathroom, leaving me alone with the mess of her temper. As I sat there, her phone lit up on the table. The young girl at the law firm's words echoed in my mind. I picked up the phone. No password, no lock—just sitting open on a chat with that scoundrel, Zack. [12:09: Are you coming today?][12:34: Not sure.][One minute ago: Come.] I glanced at the bathroom door, ears tuned for the sound of water or movement, and swiftly forwarded the messages to the law firm's young clerk. The moment I set the phone back down, a strange sense of lightness settled over me, like a great weight had finally been lifted.The next day, a message came through from the girl at the law firm. The divorce papers were ready, and they'd already started the p
40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 4
When Megan heard my words, she let out a cold laugh. She gave me a slow once-over, her eyes brimming with mockery. I reckon she thought it was a grand joke. After all, a man like me, who'd spent his whole life being docile and obliging, suddenly saying he wanted a divorce? Who would believe such nonsense? She figured I was just throwing a tantrum, trying to stir up trouble for a bit of attention. "Stop making a scene," she said. "If you want my attention, don't use divorce as your excuse." With that, she turned and strode off to the bedroom, flipping off the living room lights as she went. I was left standing in the pitch black, blinking like a fool. Now, my eyes—ruined from years of squinting over calligraphy work—don't take kindly to the dark. Without light, I can't see a blessed thing. I'd told her this more times than I could count, yet here I was, abandoned in the shadows like an old coat.I had no stomach to share a bed with her that night. The other rooms were dus
40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 3
My heart felt a pang of bitterness as my eyes fell upon Tommy's bag, left behind on the sofa. Recalling that the restaurant they'd mentioned wasn't far, I quickly slipped on my shoes, worried he might lack money to settle the bill, and hurried downstairs to deliver it. When I arrived at the restaurant, just as I was about to step inside, the scene through the glass window froze me in my tracks. There they were—my son, his wife, my wife. And, seated among them as if he belonged, my wife's first love. The four of them sat together, laughing and chatting with a warmth I could hardly remember being a part of, like they were the real family and I was a forgotten shadow. Swallowing my anger, I walked in and handed the bag to Tommy. "You left your bag behind. I was afraid you wouldn't have money to pay." He crossed his arms, his tone sharp. "Weren't you not coming?" His words stung, but I masked my pain, turned to leave, and was halfway out when I heard his sneering voice behind
40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 2
The photograph captured the both of them smiling sweetly, their heads tilted toward each other in an unmistakable display of intimacy. On the back, their names were inscribed in neat handwriting: Megan Gibson and Zack Taylor. Beside Zack's name, there was a poetic note in the same familiar handwriting: "No one compares to you." Beneath the photo, a small line of red print caught my eye:—Victoria Photo Studio. That was the first photography studio in our town. I had once suggested taking a family portrait there with Megan and our son, only to be chastised in the middle of the street. "Do you know how expensive one photograph is? That money could buy enough meat to feed our son for days!" she had snapped. I never brought it up again. Now I understood why she had already known the price of a photograph without asking. She had gone there before—just not with me. As I examined the photo, my eyes were drawn to the suit she wore in it. It was one of those premium pieces from
40 Years of Betrayal Chapter 1
For forty years, my wife had been deceiving me. I sat there, frozen on the couch, flipping through the stack of remittance slips, each one a punch to the gut as I slowly came to grips with the truth. The slips ranged from handwritten notes to printed forms, and I looked over them again and again. What hit me was undeniable: Since the day we got married, forty years ago, my wife had been secretly sending money to some unknown account. Finally, I found the first page in the stack. Back in 1984, Megan Gibson and I had gotten married. The marriage was set up by our parents. We'd barely known each other for two months before tying the knot. After the wedding, she quit her job and stayed home to run the house. I'd always been touched by her sacrifice. I promised myself I'd work hard and give her the best life I could. Then luck struck, and I landed a job as a university lecturer. I couldn't wait to tell her, so I rushed home, all excited, and handed her an envelope. The envelop
