He Chose His Assistant — I Chose Divorce

The day my father was kidnapped, I called my billionaire husband in tears, begging him to save my father.

After listening, he chuckled lightly. "I already transferred three million to you. Make sure you stop bothering Luna."

I hurriedly agreed, and the money was immediately sent to the kidnappers' account.

But just as they were about to untie my father, my husband used his influence not only to reverse the ransom payment, but also to freeze the kidnappers' account.

Feeling deceived, the kidnappers completely snapped. They tortured my father for three straight hours before finally killing him.

On the way to collect my father's ashes, I saw every giant advertising screen across the city covered with photos of him and his newly hired assistant, Luna Henderson.

After returning home and settling my father's ashes, I called my husband.

"Let's get divorced."

On the other end of the line came his teasing laughter with Luna.

"This again? Luna said you've been spending too recklessly, so I punished you a little. You're not actually mad over something this small, are you?"

I gripped my phone as my stomach churned violently, acid burning its way up my throat.

Jeff Ellison's lazy voice continued through the speaker.

"It's not enough? Fine, I'll give you another million.

"Say something. What, are you mute now? One million isn't enough for you to waste?

"I'm giving you this money so you can uphold the Ellison family's reputation. Don't embarrass me outside. And stop pulling this divorce nonsense. I don't like hearing it."

The call disconnected.

A second later, my screen lit up with a bank notification.

Looking at the endless string of zeros, I felt nothing but irony.

Three days ago, the kidnappers had held a knife to my father's throat. In the video call, his face was covered in blood, yet he still shouted for me not to worry about him.

I knelt on the floor, begging Jeff to save my father.

At that point, I had already prepared myself for humiliation. Even if he'd told me to kneel down and polish Luna's shoes, I would have done it.

Unexpectedly, Jeff agreed without much fuss.

The moment the money arrived, I thought dawn had finally come.

The kidnappers loosened the ropes. My father collapsed onto the ground, grabbed the phone, and cried as he spoke to me.

"Sweetheart, Dad's okay now. From now on, I won't be a burden to you anymore. Live well with Jeff…"

Those were the last words my father ever left me.

Right after that came the kidnappers' furious roar.

"The money was reversed?! You think you can screw with us?!"

"You're a bastard, Jeff Ellison! Fine. Let me show you the price of messing with me!"

The video abruptly went black.

I lost my mind trying to call Jeff.

Once. Twice. A hundred times.

All I got was nothing but a busy signal.

I called his assistant, his driver, even the Ellison family's butler.

Every reply sounded like a machine set on repeat.

"Mr. Ellison is busy."

"Mr. Ellison is in a meeting."

"Mr. Ellison instructed us to wait until he finishes handling his matters."

Like a madwoman, I rushed to the Ellison Corporation building, only to be pinned to the floor by security guards, my face pressed against the freezing floor as I stared at Jeff's private elevator stopping at the top floor.

After a full three days, I received a call from the police, asking me to identify my father's body.

The coroner told me my father had been tortured for three hours before he died. Every bone in his body had been broken. Not a single patch of skin had been left intact. He had been tortured to death alive.

When I walked out of the funeral home, the urn in my arms felt light, yet the weight of it bent my back.

I looked up.

Across every LED screen in the city rolled photos of Jeff Ellison and Luna Henderson.

In the pictures, Jeff smiled with unbearable tenderness while Luna leaned against him beneath a sky full of fireworks.

The headline stabbed into my eyes.

[Ellison Corporation CEO Spends Five Million to Celebrate Luna Henderseon Joining the Company]

The date was the very night my father had been murdered.

So this was what he meant by "busy."

Jeff had been busy taking romantic photos with Luna. In his eyes, my father's life wasn't even worth a fireworks show for Luna.

The one-million-dollar transfer sat in my phone like a cruel joke.

He had reversed the life-saving three million, then turned around and spent five million renting every screen in the city for Luna.

And now, he tossed another million at me like scraps thrown to a beggar, telling me to "uphold the Ellison family's reputation."

I raised my phone and stared at the photo of him with Luna.

'Jeff, this is what you called being "busy"?'

The place where my heart had once ached so fiercely now felt completely hollow. Not numb; just dead silent.

I carefully placed my father's urn in the passenger seat and fastened the seatbelt around it.

"Dad, we're going home," I murmured.

The engine started, leaving behind the citywide display of their love.

As I drove across the river bridge, I almost threw my phone into the water.

But then, I remembered my father's screams before he died.

I couldn't throw it away. It was evidence. I had to keep it, even if holding it burned through my chest.

When I got home, I settled my father's ashes safely.

Hours later, my tears finally ran dry. I stood up and dialed Jeff's number.

This time, he answered quickly.

In the background came Luna's laughter and the crisp clink of champagne glasses.

"What? Finally come to your senses?" His voice dripped with condescension. "Now that you got the money, behave yourself."

I looked at my father's memorial photo and spoke calmly.

"Jeff, my father is dead."

Silence lingered on the other end for a second. Then came his mocking laugh.

"Don't be ridiculous! To get me to come home, you're even cursing your own father now? That's low, even for you.

"You used to fake illnesses. Now you're pretending your father died. What's next? Are you going to fake your own death too?"

I said nothing.

I simply listened as the man I had loved for five years used the cruelest words imaginable to mock the pain of losing my father.

"Luna was right. You just have too much free time, so you keep thinking up all this nonsense.

"One million isn't enough? Fine, I'll transfer another five hundred thousand. You're a real eyesore.

"We're going to try on formalwear now. Hanging up."

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone blankly for a while.

Then I opened my messaging app, found the profile picture I had pinned to the top for five years, and blocked him.

After that, I dialed my attorney's number.

"Benson, help me draft a divorce agreement."

"Yes. Right now."

"The reason?"

"Cheating."