Practice Marriage in Poverty? Say Hi to Real Poverty

My laughter startled Jared and Edwin. They probably expected me to either explode in rage, curse them out at the top of my lungs, or fall to my knees and beg.

Laughter was the only thing they didn't expect from me.

"Why are you laughing?" Jared questioned, his brow furrowed.

"It's nothing," I said, my expression stilling after my laughter died out. "I just thought you guys proved to be great actors as well."

I walked into the bedroom and dragged out several storage boxes from under the bed. I bought them a few days ago. My plan was to use them to organize our off-season clothes in preparation for our new life following the end of our hard days.

"Oh? Have you come to your senses and decided to pack up so you can get the hell out of here?" Jared called out mockingly as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

I ignored him.

One by one, I methodically sorted through all of the expenses I'd covered in the last five years. During that time, I'd printed out the bank transaction records of my income from the three jobs I worked.

I also compiled my credit card statements and the detailed transaction records for the supplementary card used to make payments for Naomi's so-called heavy debts.

Jared's expression went from scornful to confused before eventually growing wary.

"What the hell are you doing, Ian? Don't tell me you plan on using this pile of junk to extort money from us. Well, I'm telling you right now that it's not going to work. We have the best legal team there is."

I said nothing. From a dedicated document folder, I took out a thick stack of receipts and invoices. And finally, I took out the receipt for Shane's limited-edition toy robot. The receipt had been issued in my name, and my debit card was listed as the payment method.

I gently placed that receipt on top of all the evidence, as if it were the final mark to end these five absurd years of my life.

Once I was done with that, I closed the boxes. All three large boxes had been filled, but not with my personal items. They contained my blood, sweat, and tears spilled in the last five years—the entirety of my life during that time, which had been reduced to nothing.

I looked at Jared and Edwin, saying, "I'm taking these with me."

Evidently, Edwin found my actions inconceivable as well. "Those are records of the shared family expenses, Mr. Lewis. You have no right to take them all away. Besides, they can't serve as grounds for you to demand additional compensation."

"Who said I wanted additional compensation?" I tossed back at him.

I turned to Jared, who was eyeing me like I was some kind of madman. With a scornful smirk, he declared, "There's no changing you, huh? All you care about is money. You're a hopeless case, Ian."

"That's right." I nodded, admitting to it. "I'm a hopeless case who can't be changed. All I care about is money."

After all, money was the only thing in this world that wouldn't betray me. I lugged the boxes of "junk" to the doorway and changed into my shoes.

Up until now, I didn't even bother looking at Shane.

The only things I took with me were my passport, debit card, social security card, and the boxes of evidence that mattered more to me than my life.

As I opened the door to leave this "home" that I'd dedicated five straining years of my life to, Jared spoke up behind me.

His voice wasn't that loud, but it was clear enough for me to hear as he said to Shane, "See that, Shane? I was right, wasn't I? A man like him isn't worthy of being your father. Money is the only thing he sees."

Even as the door closed, I heard them laugh.