After my First Love Returned, I Decided to Divorce novel Chapter 3

"Useless, stupid woman!"

The old man was furious, his cane thudding against the polished hardwood floor as his face twisted in rage.

"Didn't I tell you to take care of Ethan?!"

"You should be grateful you even got to marry into the Johnson family!"

"I gave you one job—to keep Ethan in check—and you can't even do that!"

"You might as well be dead!"

The slap came out of nowhere.

The sting burned across my cheek, leaving me frozen in place.

Even Ethan's so-called friends, a bunch of rich kids who had seen it all, looked shocked by the scene unfolding before them.

People in our circle liked to mock me behind my back. Sure, they sneered at how much I let Ethan get away with, but for years, I had been the one handling all his messes.

The company he had no interest in running?

That was me, keeping it afloat.

The scandals, the disasters?

I was always the one cleaning them up.

So they could laugh all they wanted—no one could say I hadn't done my job.

But this?

This was the first time I had been humiliated like this.

Not even back when I was a kid in St. Mary's Orphanage had I been treated like this.

Tears burned at the edges of my vision, but I forced them down, lowering my head, pretending I couldn't feel the eyes on me.

Dignity. Pride.

Whatever I had left was now crushed beneath their feet.

I knew that after today, I would never have a shred of respect left in this city.

Word would spread.

By tonight, everyone in New York City would know I had been slapped across the face in public.

The tension in the room remained suffocating until Ethan was wheeled out of his hospital room.

He looked confused for a split second, glancing around at the unexpected gathering, but quickly recovered.

Ever the charmer, he said a few words to his grandfather, making the old man laugh, and just like that, all was forgiven.

A few more pleasantries and the old man left, taking the dark cloud of his anger with him.

The others took that as their cue to leave.

One by one, they made their excuses and disappeared until it was just the two of us.

I let out a long breath. Finally.

Then I remembered last night.

"You… you came here like this?"

I glanced down at myself, realizing I was still wearing a set of borrowed clothes.

I must have looked ridiculous.

Ethan, noticing the same thing, softened slightly before speaking again, his voice deliberately casual:

"Come push me back to my room. I'm tired."

When we had first gotten married, I had fought back.

I hated his cheating, his recklessness.

I argued, I yelled.

But then his grandfather called me to the Johnson estate.

Showed me what they meant by "family discipline."

"A Johnson wife must be gentle and obedient," the old man had told me.

"You dare defy your husband? Make my grandson unhappy?"

"What good does that do you?!"

If I hadn't lived through it, I wouldn't have believed things like that still happened in this day and age.

At first, I tried telling Ethan.

I thought maybe, just maybe, he'd stop it.

That he'd care.

But he never even let me finish before he brushed me off, rushing off to his next party, his next woman.

So, over time, I stopped trying.

Predictably, he sighed and said, "But Grandpa's an elder."

"You shouldn't go against him."

"If he hits you, just take it."

"Don't talk back and make it worse."