Abandoning My Beloved Wife and Daughter, Not Without a Reason

The moment Sharon saw me, a flicker of panic flashed through her eyes. She quickly walked over.

“Dean, don’t get the wrong idea. The hotel medics just came and gave me my medication,” she explained, flustered.

“Sorry for worrying you, I swear it won’t happen agai—”

“It’s fine,” I said, before she could finish her excuse. I walked past her and tossed the bottle of medicine into a nearby trash bin. Then, I pulled out the divorce papers I’d printed the night before and handed them to her.

“The property manager said the HVAC cleaning requires the owner's signature.”

Sharon froze for half a second. Then, without reading a single word, she grabbed a pen and signed the papers.

Once I had her signature, I turned around and walked off without another word. But Elroy called and approached me with that fake-friendly attitude of his.

“Long time no see, brother,” he greeted.

“Why the rush? Did you know we’re throwing a huge party today to celebrate the company going public? You’re already here—why not stick around and celebrate with us?”

I had zero interest in entertaining him.

“Besides,” he added casually, “isn’t this company Aunt Ruth’s life’s work?”

His words stopped me cold.

This company… it was the only thing my late mother left behind. If it hadn’t been for that accident five years ago, I would have been the one hosting this party tonight.

A sharp pain twisted in my chest. But somehow, I let the staff usher me to a seat—front and center, right in the spotlight.

The celebration started soon after. Elroy took the stage, dressed in a bespoke navy suit, Sharon clinging to his arm like a prize.

“Let’s raise a glass to Amoura’s successful IPO,” he announced, lifting the mic with that same smarmy smile. “And now, let’s take a walk down memory lane with a video honoring our ten-year journey.”

The room dimmed and the giant LED screens lit up.

Then came my scream.

The speakers echoed with my raw, guttural cry—the kind only pain could rip out of a person. My image filled the screen next. A man broken, covered in bruises and dark marks, barely recognizable.

The woman’s face in the video had been blurred, but my naked body—and the blood pouring from between my legs—was all too clear. Anyone watching it would instantly think I was some kind of sick pervert.

And just like that, the memories I had buried deep down came crashing back like a violent storm.

My whole body started to tremble and before I could even get up, a swarm of reporters rushed at me with cameras and microphones. The flashes were relentless, blinding me as they lit up my face.

“Mr. Frazier, is it true that five years ago you were hospitalized following... deviant sexual behavior? That it led to the removal of your kidneys—and your genitals? Would you say this is karma finally catching up to you?”

Another reporter leaned in, voice sharp as a blade. “Your late mother named the company Amoura, to represent integrity and self-respect. But after watching that video, do you really think you’ve honored her legacy? Don’t you worry she’s turning in her grave right now?”

And then came the cruelest blow, thrown in with a sneer. “How do you even look your daughter in the eye after this? Or the board of directors, for that matter? Honestly, if I were you, I’d have thrown myself into traffic already. You’re not fit to be a husband—let alone a father.”

Shame washed over me in crushing waves. I clutched at my clothes, gasping for air, unable to breathe from the humiliation.

But they had no intention of stopping. Someone even started a livestream, shoving the mic in my face.

“Mr. Frazier, you have no comment? Does it mean you agree with the public—that you're just a disgrace?”

Camera after camera fought to capture my pain and humiliation. Just as I was about to break, I heard two furious voices cutting through the chaos.

“Get the hell away from him! Who the hell gave you the right to film this, you damn vultures?!”

Sharon pushed through the crowd, ripping off her coat and wrapping it tightly around me, shielding me with her body.

And then Willow—who was supposed to be at school—ran in, spreading her little arms to shield me.

“Bad people! You all bad people! I won’t let you bully my dad!”