The Husband She Loved Too Late

Goodbye, Oliver

When I was alive, Oliver and I had clashed more than once.

We clashed once on a film set. That time, I was invited as the client to participate in the casting for a production the company was investing in, and Oliver was one of the auditionees.

Frankly speaking, his acting was terrible. But with Samantha backing him, he still managed to secure the most fully developed supporting role.

If performed well, this role would undoubtedly be a breakthrough role for tens of thousands of struggling extras.

In my opinion, every auditionee should compete for the role based on their own ability. And so, I dismissed Oliver on the spot and replaced him with the newcomer who had delivered the best performance.

This matter reached Samantha's ears. I had no chance to explain because she did the same thing as now, kicking me out of the company and slapping me across the face, in order to vent her anger for her wronged lover.

My skin was thick, so it did not hurt much. All I remembered was that the slap was loud, and I had a metallic taste in my mouth as if a fishbone had scratched the inner lining of my mouth.

Now Oliver was the one being slapped. He covered his face, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

Nonetheless, he quickly switched back to an innocent expression and asked anxiously, "Samantha, what did I do wrong to upset you?"

Samantha shook her hand, then bent down and patted his face with the back of her fingers. With foundation on, his face looked even smoother and fairer than usual.

"I've said this before. You can provoke Joshua however you like, but only he can be my husband," she said. "You've crossed the line this time."

Samantha straightened up, her aura chillingly cold. Without looking at Oliver again, she added, "Go to Alex, take a check, and get lost."

As for me, I was puzzled when I saw my wife, who had always loathed me, would actually turn against her young lover of three years for my sake.

Oliver went weak at the knees and dropped to the floor with a thud. Grabbing Samantha's sleeve, he cried, "I'm not leaving, Samantha. I'm sorry. I made a mistake. Please let me stay. I'll never do it again. Samantha, I can't live without you!"

Samantha got annoyed and slammed down the office intercom.

Shortly after, two security guards came up and dragged Oliver away.

As she listened to the cries, Samantha slumped back into her office chair and massaged her temples, looking utterly exhausted.

Her secretary, Alex Harper, stepped forward. After observing her expression, he hesitated before speaking. "Ms. Cole, why don't you go back to Restmeadow Estate to see Mr. Davidson? He seems to have something to discuss with y—"

"I'm not going back!" Samantha rudely interrupted him upon hearing him mention me. She had only just calmed down, but now she was agitated again.

"I've spoiled him! I was just spending a little more time with Oliver, but he dares to act all high and mighty with me. Besides, it's not like I'm not going home. Must he make such a big deal out of it?"

As soon as she finished speaking, she seemed to remember something, and the gloom on her face disappeared. With a smile, she said, "Alex, I remember that young model who sent me flowers last time. He was quite cute. Ask him to meet me."

Samantha then gave him the address of a restaurant.

I smiled self-mockingly.

In our five years of marriage, Samantha had a string of lovers, each lasting no more than three months.

At first, I thought Oliver would be an exception. Unexpectedly, her driving Oliver away in the name of protecting me was a lie. The real reason she did so was that she was tired of him.

Samantha met with her new lover.

The young model had a sharp, assertive aura and a crew cut. Although he seemed unapproachable, in reality, it was all just a facade.

"Ms. Cole, I'd like to propose a toast to you.

"Ms. Cole, do you have any dietary restrictions?

"It's too formal to keep calling you Ms. Cole. Shall I call you Samantha instead?"

Honestly, he looked cheap.

He was grinning from ear to ear all night, but Samantha seemed distracted throughout. Although she would respond briefly to topics that interested her, she would drift off into her own thoughts most of the time. She did not even bother maintaining basic etiquette.

Meanwhile, I sat down next to the young model and studied him for a while. Suddenly, a realization hit me. His features were rather rugged, and he was not exactly Samantha's usual type.

Judging from the lovers she had flaunted in front of me in the past, Samantha seemed to prefer the type with ethereal and refined features.

Perhaps this young model should start by lowering his nose bridge a little. His current nose looked sharp enough to hurt someone.

Truth be told, never once did it cross my mind that one day I would be sitting next to my rival in love and genuinely considering his future.

I burst out laughing. Then I quickly stopped myself. However, I immediately realized that it was unnecessary.

I was already dead, anyway. Nobody could see me.

The young model was still chattering away.

Somewhat tired, Samantha waved her hand, signaling someone to summon the manager over. "Why does this soup taste off? she asked.

Upon hearing that, the manager flinched. Without hesitation, he ordered the soup to be served again.

However, Samantha gripped the rim of the bowl tightly, preventing him from taking it away. After that, she slammed the spoon onto the plate, making a piercing sound.

The air in the room became still.

Samantha glanced coldly at the manager, her eyes swirling with emotion.

"Cut the act. Is Joshua not here? I've known all along that he was the one who made the creamy shrimp and corn soup I had whenever I came here."

The manager trembled with fear as he replied, "Ms. Cole, Mr. Davidson didn't show up today."

Samantha tightened her fingers, crumpling the napkin in her palm into a ball as if she were squeezing and toying with my sincere heart.

Still, what a surprise. So she had known all along. She had known I was the one behind the soup she drank.