My Ex Broke Down After My Son Turned Five

He adjusted his cuff and spoke casually.

“Stacy’s back, so I’m going to pick her up.

“Clean up the mess at home. She’s not like you and doesn’t adapt to things as easily. She’s very innocent.”

William’s tone held no obvious contempt, but that calmness felt like a hard slap across my face.

I watched him rush out the door without looking back.

At that moment, I wanted to ask him something.

What exactly did I mean to him?

Was I a girlfriend he planned to marry, or a living toy he could summon and discard at will?

But I did not dare ask because I feared the truth, and I feared that I could not bear it.

In the end, I refused to give up.

I refused to believe William felt nothing for me. I believed even less that he could desire someone he did not love.

I waited from morning until afternoon. When he finally returned, it was with Stacy.

She stood at the door and pointed at me.

“I don’t like her. Make her leave.”

In that instant, I finally understood what it meant to be spoiled rotten.

She did not need schemes or tricks.

One sentence was enough for William to throw me out, along with my luggage.

That day, heavy rain flooded Harbor City as I dragged my luggage through the streets, unable to flag down a single cab.

By the time the moon rose, William found me.

He booked a presidential suite for a month and pulled me into his arms without hesitation.

That night, he wanted me again and again. He whispered my name in my ear.

In a daze, I held his shoulder and asked him if he loved me.

William froze and was silent for a long time before he said, “Emma, if I ever get married, the bride will be you.”

I forgave him just like that because I loved him too much.

I loved him enough to accept that I was not the only woman in his life.

I loved him enough that even knowing certain truths, I would still run to him the moment he called, like a dog desperate to please.

I would roll over, wag my tail, do anything just to earn his favor.

After that, William and I seemed to silently agree that marriage was inevitable.

I began looking at wedding venues, dresses, and rings.

I sent him what I chose, and he replied while accompanying Stacy.

Most of the time, his responses were short.

[Whatever you like is fine]

[I’m good with anything.]

Other times, he did not even reply.

Stacy would take his phone and curse at me. She always accused me of being shameless.

Then, William would take the phone back and send me a cold voice message.

“She’s still young. Don’t take it to heart.”

I found that funny, but I agreed that I was indeed shameless.

And yet, I enjoyed it.

A few days later, William suddenly suggested we go look at rings.

Stacy came along.

I picked out more than ten designs. Stacy rejected every single one, always with some absurd excuse.

“This ring brings bad luck to the husband, so we can’t take it.”

“This ring makes me uncomfortable, so it won’t work.”

Even the sales assistant could not take it anymore and asked us who was getting married and who was actually buying the ring.

Stacy’s pride was bruised, and she curled up in William’s arms, crying softly.

“William, I don’t want you to get married! If you marry, you won’t care about me anymore, and then anyone can mistreat me. You can’t get married!”

William’s eyes reddened.

He restrained himself, and his voice trembled.

“How could I not care about you? I’ve always been your… brother…”

“That’s not true!” Stacy shouted. “Ever since Emma showed up, you sent me abroad and wouldn’t let me come back!

“It’s all Emma’s fault. It’s all her fault! If she disappears, will you treat me like before?”

She suddenly looked at me, and madness flashed in her eyes.

She grabbed my head and slammed it hard against the counter.

The sound of shattering glass exploded in my ears, and blood blurred my vision.

But Stacy was not satisfied.

She lifted her four-inch heels and drove them into my abdomen. Pain exploded through me.