My Wife's Lover Stole My Mother's Surgery Cash, So I Stole Back My Dignity

While Alberta was at work, I could barely reach her. Wilfred was always in the way.

When she came home, she stayed glued to the phone with Wilfred, video calls, the two of them laughing nonstop.

My monthly allowance had dropped from fifty thousand to two.

I'd argued with Alberta once about whether she'd gotten too close to Wilfred, while turning ice-cold toward me.

She'd just looked at me then, calm, her face empty of anything.

"Nathan, you only married into this family because you played dirty. Don't act sweet after you've already cashed in."

"Besides, Wilfred and I are just boss and assistant. We happen to get along. You're imagining things."

That was when it hit me. Whatever we had came purely from that one reckless night. She had never really loved me.

So I stopped arguing. I stopped asking about the two thousand, too.

But over the past six months, Alberta had gone further and further. Wilfred's feed was crammed with proof of how close they were.

Hot springs together, hiking to catch the sunrise, fancy synchronized ski runs.

And every time Wilfred and I clashed, Alberta took his side without a second's hesitation.

Just like today.

Every time, the cold of it stole the breath right out of my chest.

But at least I'd already booked tomorrow's flight to the States. I was taking my mother there for treatment, and I was leaving Alberta behind.

Right here. Right now.

I looked at Wilfred, standing behind Alberta.

His hands were still resting on her shoulders, his eyes daring me.

I stared at him.

"Alberta didn't give me arcade tokens. And I'm damn sure I'm not throwing dirt on you."

"Which means you're the one who swapped the cash for tokens, and because of that my mother's surgery was delayed and she's paralyzed from the neck down."

I couldn't hold it anymore. I lunged and slammed my fist into Wilfred's face.

But the next instant, a wine bottle smashed into the back of my skull.

I turned my head and saw the loathing twisting Alberta's face.

"Nathan, I won't let you hurt Wilfred."

She shoved past me and wrapped her arms around him, cooing soft words of concern.

And I just swayed, then went down.

When I came to, I was still lying on the freezing floor. The enormous mansion held no one but me.

The back of my head was damp. I'd clearly been bleeding.

Alberta had simply left me there.

What she'd done had sunk below even the lowest bar I'd ever set for her.

But none of it mattered anymore.

I glanced at my phone. In the post Wilfred had just put up, Alberta was nursing him in a hospital VIP room.

Dressing his wound with her own hands. Mouth to mouth, spooning porridge into him.

I laughed and started packing.

I was going abroad this time, and I wouldn't be coming back anytime soon.

So everything that could be thrown out, I threw out.

Including my wedding photos with Alberta, every gift we'd given each other across two years of marriage.

Last of all, I dropped my wedding ring into the toilet and flushed it away.

When it was done, I picked up my suitcase to leave.

Then the whole mansion plunged into darkness. The power had gone out.

I was still puzzling over it when two shadows appeared, closing in fast.

I sensed the danger and snatched up the suitcase to shield myself, but they struck me down with brutal precision and dragged me off.

Two masked men.

They threw me into a battered van, gagged my mouth, and then one of them backhanded me across the face while the other filmed.

They captured the most humiliating sight of my entire life, beating my face swollen, beating it bloody.

The bones in my face felt close to cracking.

"Ninety-nine slaps. That's enough." I don't know how long it had gone on, my face nearly pulped, before the one filming finally called a stop.

The one who'd been slapping me pried my eyelids open, forcing me to meet his eyes.