Money Can't Buy Back a Dead Heart

Peter Crowley finds out that it's been three days since I last lodged a purchase request from him. Thinking that I've finally learned how to become a good wife, he decides to text me as a form of reward. "I've already restored your adoptive mother's treatment privileges. You should be more docile from now on. Don't keep lying just to ask for more money from me. "I know that it's tough, being from the bottom rung of the society and all, but I'm not a gullible idiot, you know." What Peter doesn't know is that I've already finished drafting a divorce agreement by the time I receive his text. Before leaving the manor, the only thing I can take with me is the white T-shirt and the jeans I wore when I first married into this family. No one will ever believe that I, the glamorous and radiant Mrs. Crowley, don't have enough decent clothes to take up an entire closet. Every cent meant for any private expenses needs to go through a corporate approval system. All of the fancy clothes and jewelry are locked up in a safe, too. If I ever need money, I'll have to submit a request to Peter's secretary, Cara Harden. This is all because Peter looks down on my background. He thinks that I'll somehow develop a bad habit of spending money excessively just because I've married rich. But three days ago, my adoptive mother was in critical condition. I quickly put in a request for 200 thousand dollars for her surgical bills, only for Cara to drag out the approval system's procession. In the end, my adoptive mother died in the hospital. Peter has no idea that the only reason why I can tolerate his behavior for so many years is for the sake of the medical resources that can cure my adoptive mother. Now that my adoptive mother is dead, there's no need for me to continue staying in this marriage. Chapter 1 I brought up divorce to my husband, Peter Crowley, but he didn't agree to it. "Don't be such a drama queen," he said coldly without even taking his eyes off the laptop screen. It was as if he found those boring electronic data more interesting than talking to me. I lowered my eyes and said firmly, "I'm being serious. I want a divorce." Peter took a deep breath and stood, his expression icy. "I was the one who agreed to suspend Mom's treatment. It had nothing to do with Cara. She was just carrying out orders. If you hadn't gone to the company and made a huge scene, I wouldn't have needed to teach you a lesson. "I already had someone resume the treatment yesterday. My time is precious, so I don't have time to watch you throw a tantrum." Without waiting for my reply, he turned and walked away. He was certain that before long, I'd shamelessly submit and grovel, and continue to fawn over him just like before. Even when he said to my face, "Don't be such a simp. It makes me sick," I'd just smile and say nothing, continuing to work like a tireless, uncomplaining maid. But now, it no longer mattered whether the treatment was resumed. If Peter had picked up my call three days ago, I might still be bowing and scraping, desperately trying to please him. But he was never patient enough to answer my calls. At the time, I begged him not to hang up and to hear me out, but it was no match for a single word from Cara Harden. "Could it be that Ada is upset because I reminded her to follow proper procedures earlier?" she asked Peter pitifully. "I didn't mean anything by it. I just didn't want her to keep that bad habit of having no plan at all, like she used to when she was just scraping by. "That's why I enforced the process a bit more strictly—so that she'd learn her lesson and develop good habits." Hearing this, Peter grew even more impatient with my call. Ignoring my pleas, he ordered coldly, "Do as Cara says." In the past, whenever I went to him for something, he would behave the same way. "I'm busy. If you need something, go to Cara. "Listen to Cara. "Just do whatever Cara tells you to do." I was his wife, yet I had not the slightest shred of dignity. Not to mention going out normally—even for social engagements I was required to attend as his wife—I still had to submit an application for Cara's approval. Every single time, Cara would smilingly reject these ridiculous applications with a light, dismissive attitude. "Ada, the application description isn't detailed enough. Please rewrite it. "The gala only goes until 10:00 pm tonight. How can you put it down at midnight? "Ada, why do you always do this? Just look at what you wrote on the form. Didn't I say to submit it unless everything is in order?" Chapter 2 Cara would always delay approval until the very last moment, then watch with a beaming smile as I scrambled pathetically to the venue for a piece of jewelry or a gown. Occasionally, I'd end up being late because of this, and Peter would look at me with displeasure. "Ada Patton, have you no sense of time? You can't even handle such a simple task. Look at yourself—in what way can you possibly measure up to Cara?" But the reason I couldn't handle these trivial things and was always unable to arrive on time was entirely because of Cara. Yet, Peter couldn't see it, nor did he care. Just as he knew full well that Mom couldn't stop taking her medication or delay her treatment, he still impatiently snapped at me over the phone, as if it were perfectly justified. "How many times have I told you? If you need money urgently, just ask Cara. It's not like she'd say no to you." Getting money from Cara was as difficult as ever. "What kind of emergency requires a one-time payment of 200 thousand dollars? Ada, you're not making excuses to ask for money, are you? 200 thousand dollars is no small amount. Please attach a detailed list of expenses, and I'll approve it then. For now, it's rejected." I explained to her that it was an advance payment and that the itemized bill wouldn't be available until Mom was discharged from the hospital. Cara smirked, feigning sudden understanding. "Oh, I see. Everyone in my family is quite healthy, so I really had no idea at all. But purchase requests are very strict, and bending the rules like this won't do. "Why don't you get an official policy document from the hospital and attach it, and then I'll approve your request? In the meantime, I'm rejecting this." Later, she added, "Hospitals can apparently help with falsifying documents, you know. I'm not saying you would do that. I'm just saying that it's a possibility. How about this—why don't you attach the industry regulation instead?" And so, the critical window for emergency treatment was delayed again and again by Cara. By the time I finally got the money, even the most outstanding medical team could do nothing to save Mom. A continuous tide of hatred and anguish pierced my heart like countless fine needles, while an inexpressible sense of suffocation filled my chest. I had to break out of this prison of a marriage. Once I figured out what I needed to do next, I suddenly felt like a weight had lifted off my shoulders. It was as if the invisible shackles that had weighed on me all these years had vanished in an instant. So when I saw Cara's provocative Instagram post, I remained utterly unmoved. In fact, I was even calm enough to save a screenshot and give it a like. Whenever Cara was involved, Peter's messages always came swiftly. "Cara has been doing good work lately, so I thought I'd treat her to a meal. You know, as her boss. So, don't you go stirring up trouble. Otherwise, people will take this the wrong way." I wondered if Cara had said something to him again. He continued matter-of-factly, "You already liked her post. If you take it back now, people will get the wrong idea about Cara. Leave a comment praising her work. Consider it an act of encouragement from both of us as a couple." I hadn't planned on engaging at first. But the more I turned it over in my mind, the harder it became to swallow my resentment. Thus, I complied with Peter's request and commented under Cara's post. "Cara is so diligent and dedicated. She treats the employees and me with complete impartiality, using her little corporal approval system to flex every ounce of bureaucratic power. "I hope you keep it up and continue to pile up your misdeeds. Every penny you save for the company today will be joint marital property when you step up as the next Mrs. Crowley. Kudos to you." After hitting "send", I tossed my phone aside and began calmly packing up my things. Throughout this, my phone rang incessantly. However, I paid it no attention. It didn't take me long to finish packing. After all, all the valuable items that belonged to me were locked tightly away inside a walk-in closet secured with top-grade passcode and a safe with triple security locks. All these years, I had been like a temporary guest. Even the traces I left behind were only shallow and faint. Now that I saw things clearly, it all suddenly made sense. Peter arrived home very quickly. I marveled at this once again. Whenever it involved news about Cara, he was always so prompt. Never once did he dilly-dally. He acted as if he hadn't noticed the small suitcase by my feet, his brows still furrowed with anger. Chapter 3 "I called you—didn't you hear?" Peter asked. "I did, but I didn't want to answer," I replied indifferently. Peter looked as if he had heard something utterly ridiculous, speaking to me as though he couldn't comprehend what I'd said. "Didn't I already tell you? Cara has been performing well at work lately, and that's why I treated her to a meal. Do you have any idea how many people in the company already have the wrong idea about her? How is she supposed to face everyone after that comment you posted?" I couldn't help but sneer at this. "It looks like not everyone is blind after all. So, some people do know exactly what no good she has been up to." I turned to look at Peter. "Besides, I'm not her mother, so why should I worry about whether she has it easy at the company?" In an instant, Peter's expression darkened. "Ada, since when did you become this kind of vulgar person who believes every rumor they hear? You know perfectly well how difficult it is for a young woman to climb the corporate ladder, so why would you slander and insult an outstanding woman like Cara? "If you hadn't gone to the company and caused a scene last time, would Cara be in this position now?" His gaze toward me was filled with exhaustion and reproach. "I don't fault you for wanting to be a freeloader who does nothing productive, and I'm willing to provide you with a life of luxury. "But not all women are as shortsighted and incompetent as you. If you continue leveling this kind of malice and defamation at Cara, don't blame me for what happens next. Just think about your mom." I finally couldn't help but laugh out loud, my voice brimming with hurt and anguish. I opened my suitcase right in front of Peter. "A life of luxury? Take a look at the kind of luxurious life I've been living in your house. I'm leaving, and I can't even pack four decent outfits from the wardrobe. Even getting a haircut requires going through the corporate approval system. A housekeeper takes home more money in a month than I do!" As I spoke, I forcibly dragged Peter to the walk-in closet and pointed at the combination lock on the door. "Do you know how to open this lock? You have to enter a passcode first, then scan a fingerprint. Even your company's documents aren't locked up this tight! What kind of pampered, well-kept wife has to live like this? In fact, I'm more like a mistress scrabbling for survival under your secretary's thumb!" Peter looked utterly baffled. "Is this why you're jealous of Cara? So much so that you went all the way to the company just to ruin her reputation?" he asked me incredulously. My heart sank instantly. Everything I had just said was nothing more than casting pearls before swine. If Peter had ever, even for a moment, thought this was wrong and that it was an insult and degradation to me, he wouldn't have spent all these years going along with Cara's one absurd suggestion after another, placing every aspect of my daily life under the corporate approval system. I lowered my eyes slightly. "Forget it. Think whatever you want. Let's get divorced." Hearing the resolve in my voice, Peter actually laughed. With an expression of smug comprehension, he said, "Enough already. I don't have the energy to keep mollycoddling you. Isn't all this fuss simply because you're jealous and competing with Cara for my attention? Don't assume all women are narrow-minded and petty like you." He gently smoothed out the clothes I had rumpled just moments ago. Then, as if making a concession, he said, "Tomorrow, I'll arrange for a top-tier international medical team to come treat Mom. In a bit, I'll have Cara give you the passcode for the walk-in closet and the safe, and I'll change the fingerprints to yours as well. "From now on, I'll have the finance team transfer you ten thousand dollars every month, so you don't need to go through the corporate approval system anymore." After many years as husband and wife, I knew Peter reasonably well. For him, going this far was already the biggest compromise he was capable of making. By all logic, I should quit while I was ahead. However, I was truly tired of this love triangle. No, perhaps I had never been part of it to begin with. Just like now—for all the promises he'd just made, he still hadn't said a single word about what Cara had done. Even though we both knew perfectly well that this ridiculous approval system was her idea, proposed as a joke in the first place. Chapter 4 The fact that Peter agreed to Cara's suggestion so casually was simply proof that he didn't care about me. This meant that if I accepted his arrangements now and went back to being his wife, Cara would continue to appear in our lives going forward. "I don't want a single thing. All I want is to end this marriage." It dawned on Peter that I wasn't just throwing a tantrum. Not only was I unwilling to accept his overtures, but I was also hell-bent on getting a divorce. The irritation in his chest boiled over into anger in an instant. "Ada, have you forgotten our agreement? If you divorce me, you won't get a single cent! And what about your family's business? Your mom's treatment? Do you honestly believe that without me, your stepfather, Eric Patton—who's already got himself a new flame—would bother to take care of your mom?" Of course he wouldn't. I knew perfectly well that if it weren't for that ungrateful Eric turning his back on Mom and refusing to care for her, leaving me desperate and with no other choice, I would never have agreed to this laughable arranged marriage. Peter and I had always been two parallel lines. Now, I was simply letting everything return to its proper course. I zipped up my suitcase once more and said coldly, "Do whatever you want." Peter was struck dumb. He couldn't fathom why the tactic that had always worked without fail on me in the past no longer had any effect. However, his pride wouldn't allow him to lower himself any further. Thus, he watched in silence as I walked toward the door. It wasn't until I pulled the door open that he could barely contain the panic rising in him. He almost called out to stop me, but then he remembered what Cara had said to him before he came. "Ada is just too bored at home, so she wants to stir up drama, like something out of a TV soap. I've seen plenty of women like this who've grown accustomed to the good life. "As long as you ignore her and leave her hanging, it won't be long before she comes slinking back on her own. And when she does, she'll even apologize to you." Thinking of this, Peter felt a surge of irritation. He reached into his pocket for a homemade honey-lemon cough drop. Maybe it was the dry weather, but he always coughed a little whenever he smoked. So, I tried all sorts of ways to make it easier on him. Peter figured that I wasn't entirely useless after all. When the time came, he would make sure I apologized properly and sincerely repented, so that I'd never dare threaten him with divorce again. He quickly convinced himself of this. After leaving Peter, I hesitated for a long time but eventually went to see my mentor, Miranda Shor. The gray-haired woman saw me dragging my meager suitcase and simply stepped aside to let me in without saying anything, just like she had during every visit of mine before. My eyes stung despite myself, and the tears spilled over. Back when I gave up on further studies to get married, Professor Shor was the one who objected most vehemently. Even on the day of my wedding, she hadn't given up sending me messages. "Ada, hardship is only temporary. There is no obstacle in this world that can't be overcome. Your difficulties can be resolved in other ways. Don't let one moment of foolishness cost you your entire life. The life of a wealthy man's wife only looks glamorous from the outside. "The sacrifices you'll have to make are all invisible. A degree might give you a brief shine, but ultimately, you're still asking someone else for money. And as long as you're taking someone's money, you're always going to be under their thumb." Later, time proved that Professor Shor had been right about everything. In the beginning, Peter was quite satisfied with my academic credentials. But then Cara came into his life. She said that before Mom adopted me, I was nothing more than someone from the lowest rung of society. And even now, despite having a degree, I still couldn't shake the bad habits ingrained in me since childhood. Thus, I needed to learn the rules of their social class and develop proper spending habits. I depended on Peter for money. He could grant it, withhold it, or dispense it in whatever absurd manner he saw fit. Once I had cried my fill, Professor Shor finally said calmly, "I hope you haven't let your professional knowledge slip away. I have a job here that requires going into the mountains and wading through rivers to collect data. Do you want to take it?" For a moment, I was stunned. I never expected that not only would she not blame me, but she would also be willing to give me a job, which was exactly what I needed most at this moment. Chapter 5 Professor Shor frowned imperceptibly. "What? Don't tell me you've gotten too used to the good life of a wealthy wife and can't handle the hardships we working folks have to put up with?" With tears still clinging to my cheeks, I smiled from the bottom of my heart. "I can handle it, Professor Shor. For myself, I'm willing to put up with any hardship." Professor Shor smiled with genuine warmth and immediately set things in motion with swift efficiency. "Then hurry up and contact the team right away. Work isn't some soap opera. You don't get to sit around feeling sorry for yourself." Under her arrangements, I soon embarked on the work journey. At first, I struggled to adjust. But as time went on, the knowledge and operation procedures etched deep in my soul began to surface from the recesses of my mind, and I grew more and more adept. The stern and taciturn team leader, Riley Becker, gave me a thumbs-up. "At first, I was worried you'd be too soft. But now, I can see that it's true what they say—great mentors make great proteges." I smiled and replied, "It's because everyone has been looking out for me. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to adjust so quickly." Just as everyone was chatting and laughing, an ill-timed call rang out. "Ada?" I turned around. It was Cara, dressed in the height of fashion, clutching the latest designer handbag. She swept a dismissive glance over the others beside me and said, "I was wondering why you suddenly kicked up such a fuss about divorcing Peter. It turns out you're back to your old ways, mixing with these low-class people again." As she spoke, she wrinkled her brows, as if even speaking to us was a charitable act. My expression turned icy. Sure, we might look a bit rough around the edges after hauling ourselves through the wilderness collecting data. But that still didn't give her the right to insult us. "What are you? A cockroach? You're everywhere!" I said to Cara. Cara immediately turned red in the face. From behind her emerged an all-too-familiar man. "What's going on?" With reddened eyes, Cara replied pitifully, "Nothing much, really. It's just that Ada recklessly ran away from home for a long time. "So, when I saw her out here today following us around with that dodgy crowd she's fallen in with, I couldn't help trying to talk some sense into her. Who knew she'd take it the wrong way?" It was only then that Peter noticed me standing across from him, and a barely perceptible frown flickered across his face. His eyes held a knowing look. "Ada, are you picking on Cara again? If you've come to say sorry to me, you must first apologize to her!" I rolled my eyes at him and turned to leave, taking everyone with me. The woman beside me, Sarah Humphrey, asked quietly, "Ada, who was that?" I snorted coldly and replied, "My blind and brainless ex-husband." Peter's expression darkened as he demanded, "Ada, you've already followed me all the way here, so how much longer do you intend to keep this up? You've been away from home for so many days without a care! "You didn't even bother to ask about Mom! Have you no conscience at all? Are you really going to push me into stopping payment for Mom's treatment?" I looked at him wearily, my tone icy. "Go ahead and cut it off. Isn't that what you do best?" Peter was stung by the loathing and coldness in my eyes. He couldn't tell whether what he felt in that moment was anger or panic at what he was about to lose. He pulled out his phone decisively, not noticing the panic that flickered across Cara's face. "Peter, let's not do this." Peter pushed down Cara's hand, which was resting on his arm, and said coldly, "Ada must be taught a lesson. Otherwise, she'll never learn how to be my wife." On the other end of the line, his assistant, Cory Morrow, hesitated upon receiving the order. "Mr. Crowley, Mrs. Crowley's adoptive mother passed away last month. Her medical expenses had already been cut off before her death." Peter froze on the spot, murmuring in disbelief, "How is that possible?"