Seeing Me Live A Good Life, My Ex-Wife Found Her Conscience

After a heartbreaking funeral for my mother, I went south alone during what should have been my honeymoon and stayed for a month.

During that time, I never once resented Kelly. After all, she was a pearl that had been covered with dust. A child who was burdened by a tragic fate but powerless to change it.

Before leaving, I entrusted Leo to care for her.

And he did an excellent job. In our newlywed apartment we shared, he cooked with practiced efficiency. He prepared five dishes and a soup that looked absolutely exquisite.

I was sincerely grateful to him.

That year, the bond between the three of us grew stronger than ever.

Kelly treated me even better. She spent all the company’s first major profit on buying me the gemstone cufflinks I had admired. She lit fireworks across the entire city to celebrate my birthday. She always took a few days off every month, pushed off all offline meetings and accompanied me to work from home.

So, I never doubted that she truly loved me.

Until one day, by chance, I went to her office alone.

From the half-open, hidden door inside the office came the sound of rapid, labored breathing.

When I pushed the door, the scene before me stabbed into my eyes like a knife.

I screamed uncontrollably.

Her protective move toward the man was swift and decisive.

“Who let you in!”

“Get out!”

Like a madman, I grabbed everything within reach and hurled it at them.

Blood flowed from Kelly's forehead, but he still remembered to protect the man in his arms.

I smashed everything in the room. But I didn't dare to approach them. After all, the two of them were the people I loved the most in my life.

Fear penetrated my bones and my teeth chattered as I tried to calm myself.

"Leo, look at me."

With face red from crying, the man knelt toward me from beneath the tangled blanket.

"Mac, I'm sorry. Kelly and I shouldn't have done this, but our love has grown beyond control.”

“Please, just let us be together.”

His groveling posture mirrored the posture he had made at the first year we met, when he'd been cornered by thugs at the alley entrance.

It was also in the same year that, to protect him, I—a model student—had completely offended that gang. For a long time afterward, I dared not take shortcuts.

I once had Kelly personally hand him the wedding bouquet, wishing him the happiness he deserved.

And now he was lying in my wife's arms, begging me to give them a blessing.

Tears streamed down my face as I murmured, "When did it start?”

His lips trembled, unable to speak.

But someone answered for him.

“Does it matter? Are you done making a scene? This is the company, not your home.”

“Does it not matter?  Kelly! Does it not matter?” I asked her hysterically.

She stood there naked, but her gaze was unflinching.

“Fine! I'll tell you!”

“Last March, when you abandoned me and fled to the south, we were together.”

“I didn't mean to hide it from you. You'd just lost your mother and I didn't want to hurt you further. So I let you have your way and kept up this marriage.”

“Leo has suffered enough. I didn't want to see him worry about me anymore. I planned to ask you for a divorce after your mother's death anniversary.”

“Since you've found out, I might as well tell you.”

“Let's divorce. You can have whatever you want. I only want Leo.”

Only then did I fully comprehend. How heavy the slap I delivered to my mother when I sided with Kelly.

Before I divorced her, I still made a scene.

I photographed their disheveled forms in bed with my phone, printed countless flyers with captions and distributed them to every employee at her company.