The Day My Childhood Sweetheart Came to Kill Me

After all these years of marriage, I still hadn’t heard Ivy say even once, “Mom.”

What angered me most wasn’t just her words—it was her life, her space, which felt like it belonged to someone else.

My gaze drifted past her and landed on a photo hanging on the wall. It was a family portrait—of three people. Ryan held Ivy tightly in his arms, smiling like the happiest man alive.

Ivy immediately noticed my expression and hurried to block my view. “Ethan, listen to me,” she pleaded. “What I said at the banquet—I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I thought I didn’t love you, but after all these years together, I’ve developed feelings for you. Can’t you understand? What’s done is done. You just have to accept it…”

“I don’t accept it,” I cut her off sharply. “If you never liked me, why did you agree to the proposal? Why did you hide behind a lie about being allergic to men? Do you know what that did to me?”

My voice trembled, filled with bitterness. “Because I loved you, I tolerated everything. I even kept quiet when my mother begged for a grandchild, afraid you’d be angry. And you—” my tone broke—“you had a child with Ryan, then let him humiliate me at my own birthday.”

“Ivy, you’ve gone too far.”

Her face darkened, and her voice rose in defiance. “Because I loved Ryan!”

Her confession sliced through me like a blade.

“My company was going bankrupt,” she continued coldly. “Only by marrying you could I secure the funding to save it.”

She looked straight into the camera, her expression indifferent. “Ethan, it’s all in the past. What more do you want?”

At that moment, something inside me went completely still.

Whatever affection I had left for her—every fragile remnant of love—burned to ashes.

If she had shown even the slightest regret, a single word of apology, maybe I wouldn’t have hardened my heart. But she hadn’t.

“I’ll have the divorce papers sent to you,” I said flatly. “Sign them when they arrive.”

Before she could respond, I hung up.

But not long after, my phone buzzed again—with a message from Ryan.

It was a video.

My stomach turned as I watched. The humiliation at the banquet hadn’t been enough for him—he had to rub salt in my wounds.

In the video, Ivy, who once claimed she was incapable of intimacy, was laughing and affectionate, teaching Ryan everything she’d denied me. The sight made my blood boil.

She had treated me like a fool, pretending disgust for physical contact while giving herself completely to another man.

I thought of the whispers behind my back—the relatives mocking me for not having a child, the pitying looks. I had endured it all because of her. Because I loved her.

Then another message arrived from Ryan, filled with smug cruelty.

“Hahaha! See? Ivy’s not allergic to men. She’s just allergic to you.”

“Look—we already have a child.”

“For the last three years, while you thought she was yours, she came to my house every night. She let you believe her little lie. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“Oh, and one more thing—Ivy’s leaving all her property to my son.”

I read his words without blinking. My hands trembled slightly, but there was no more anger left—only a cold, consuming desire for revenge.

I realized then that both of them deserved what was coming.

That night, I barely slept. The betrayal replayed in my mind again and again, but instead of pain, I felt clarity—icy and absolute.

The next morning, my phone rang.

It was my assistant, voice tense.

“Sir, there’s an urgent matter,” he said breathlessly.