I married Mason Fleming, who comes from a prestigious family with a long line of lawyers, at 19.

For over 20 years, I devoted myself fully to our home by raising our child, keeping the household together, and supporting his career.

Now I'm 40, and he cheats on me.

Friends and relatives try to advise me. "Your husband is handsome and successful. He even lets you manage the money he earns. Compared to most men, he's considered one of the good ones."

In other words, they want me to turn a blind eye and continue playing the role of a "good wife" to maintain appearances.

But I can't keep up with the act anymore.

When I first found out, I thought I'd just tolerate it and move on.

That woman looked about the same age as my 18-year-old daughter.

My husband, Mason Fleming, was already 42.

Our child was in college. It would be embarrassing if this got out.

Summer Chamberlain came to me crying, begging me to let them be together. Her clear eyes blinked at me, looking just like me when I had loved without hesitation.

But now, the wrinkles at the corners of my eyes and the occasional gray hair reminded me of the fact that I was no longer a young woman.

"Sure, I'll let the two of you be together."

I was just joking, but she took it seriously and excitedly asked, "Elaine, will you actually divorce Mason?"

"I can. But what happens after that?" I asked in return.

She seriously thought about it before gushing, "I plan to have him marry me and bear him a son—he keeps talking about wanting one. But before that, I want him to take me to Northa, to surf in Shaway, and buy me a villa filled with gifts I like."

I frowned slightly when she mentioned that Mason wanted a son.

Back then, it was because he felt bad that I lost too much blood giving birth to our daughter that he chose to use protection.

So it was true that feelings had changed.

I didn't want to hear any more of her naïve talk.

Straightening my back, I told her, "Summer, right? I was just joking. We've been married for 21 years. Divorce isn't something that would affect just me and him anymore. Instead of dreaming about forever with him, you should think about how to get as much money out of him as you can."

When I got home, Mason was in the study on his computer.

He was still as handsome as ever. In fact, he was even more attractive now that he had matured.

He didn't even acknowledge me when he heard me come in.

That was how things were between us after 21 years of marriage.

If I didn't start the conversation, he wouldn't say a word.

While I went into the kitchen and neatly prepared afternoon tea, Mason sat down at the dining table, eyes on his phone the entire time.

"Christmas is coming up. Yvie wants you to pick her up," I told him.

"Okay."

"The garden fountain is clogged. It needs to be redone."

"Alright. Handle it as you see fit," he replied.

"Summer came to see me."

Hearing that, he finally looked up and glanced at me. "So what?" he asked coldly.

Mason had cheated on me, and his mistress had come to mark her territory.

And yet, that was all he could say to me.

It did not matter how mild-tempered I usually was. His shameless attitude made me furious.

I questioned him, "Mason, I'm your wife. The mistress already came knocking on our door."

He slammed the coffee down on the table. "Elaine Smith, think carefully before you speak. Summer's just a kid. What could possibly be going on between us? Stop with that nonsense."

So he was aware that she was barely an adult. Despite that, he still shamelessly had an affair with her.

The atmosphere at home turned tense, and things turned sour between us.

I thought he'd at least leave the house for a few days. But the next day, after I came back from the supermarket, I was greeted by the sight of Summer sitting on the living room couch.

Dressed in the pajamas I'd bought for my daughter, she was waiting for Mason to peel her an orange.

"Mason, you're amazing!" she cheered. "The orange peel looks like a starfish."

"Hah, that's a creative way to put it. Eat slowly. I see a lot of seeds."

Watching the look of affection in his eyes made my heart ache. Back then, I had asked him to peel me an orange, as I liked oranges.

He refused, saying he hated the smell of oranges.

Now, he was willingly peeling them for another woman.

Summer crossed her legs, waiting for Mason to feed her.

I saw Mason's Adam's apple move as he pulled her onto his lap.

Just as his hand was about to reach inside Summer's pajamas, I opened the door.

Even after she saw me come in, Summer remained nestled in Mason's arms.

"Oh, Elaine, you're back! I think something got in my eye. Mason's helping me take a look. You're not misunderstanding anything, are you?" she asked.

With a twist of her waist, Mason let out a sharp breath.

He hasn't touched me in a long time. In fact, we haven't even kissed in ten years.

Looking at the redness around his lips, I understood everything.

I had always focused on the family and rarely socialized. Now, I didn't even know how to respond.

Should I start shouting? Rush over and yank her hair?

None of that seemed right. I might as well get a divorce.

Since we had joint property, even just half would amount to billions.

I set down my things, stood up, and looked at Mason.

"Let's get a divorce."

Mason refused, saying I was being paranoid.

Then, he asked our relatives and friends to talk me out of it.

My in-laws tried to persuade me, saying Mason hadn't cheated, and that I should just make do. They said they'd step in and have Mason transfer me 10% of the company shares.

Our friends said that Summer was only after Mason's money. If I divorced him, I'd be giving her exactly what she wanted.

Since Mason was in a period of career growth, he was getting richer by the day.

Letting go now would just benefit her. That would be plain stupid.

One of my best friends also had a cheating husband, who was a broke and ugly man. She told me to endure it, since "all men are the same".

At the very least, Mason had money.

These days, as long as one had money, they could do whatever they wanted, even trample all over marriage without consequence.

I quietly began preparing the divorce paperwork.

Mason even brought my father to talk to me.

As soon as we met, Dad slapped me across the face.

He scolded me, "Every man needs to socialize. So what if he has a few women on the side? He's cared for you for over 20 years, and you're still not satisfied! How could you insist on a divorce? You're almost 40. Do you think you'll find someone better if you leave him?"

What he was really doing was talking about himself—he had divorced, married a younger wife, and had a son. It seemed like he felt proud about it.

To him, the wife was just supposed to endure everything in silence.

My daughter, Yvie Fleming, came home from college one day.

As I tried to hug her, she pushed me away and mocked me, saying, "You stay at home all day, and still you are not satisfied."

I couldn't believe my daughter's reaction.

I tried to explain to her. "Your dad's with someone else. I don't want to live with him anymore."

"You're just overthinking because you have nothing better to do. Dad said she's just a friend."

Yvie's annoyed expression was just like Mason's.

"Mom, Dad's supported you for 20 years. How will you live after the divorce? Don't count on me to take care of you," she added.

Before she said that, I had thought she would feel for me. I thought that she'd angrily hit her father and ask him how he could betray me. Instead, she argued with me and slammed her bedroom door.

I quietly asked myself, "Elaine, how did you end up with a life this pathetic?"

…

As I lay in bed that night, Mason came over and reached into my pajamas.

We hadn't been intimate in over a year.

Even as I didn't respond, his hand didn't stop.

"Alright, stop throwing a tantrum. I've told her to stay away. She won't show up again," he said.

I closed my eyes, unable to stop the tears.

"Mason," I whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Did you sleep with her?"

My question was met with silence.

"You are disgusting," I spat.

I might've accepted it if it had been some woman in her 20s or 30s. After all, men chased novelty.

But he was twisted enough to sleep with a woman young enough to be his daughter.

Hearing that, Mason got angry and yanked at my pajamas violently.

He tore my pajamas apart in a few quick motions and dragged my undressed body in front of the mirror.

"I'm disgusting, you say? You're the disgusting one!" He shoved me roughly before continuing, "Look at your chest—it's sagging to your navel. And that face of yours is covered in spots like a rotten orange. How can I desire you? I lose my appetite just looking at you. Don't you find yourself disgusting?"

As he spoke, he squeezed my chest.

"You'd better know your place. If you behave, I'll still let you be a rich wife. But if you divorce me, don't come crying later."

Mason slammed the door and left. I was still curled up on the floor, arms wrapped around my chest.

We'd been together for 21 years.

How could he say something so cruel to me?

Perhaps he had changed long ago, and I was the only one who clung to the memories, unwilling to accept the truth.

As my nails dug into my palms, the sharp pain brought clarity to my mind.

"Mason, did you really think I was someone you could treat however you wanted?"

My resolve to divorce only grew stronger.

It was my birthday the next day.

To my surprise, Mason got up early to cook.

Did he remember my birthday?

Yvie looked at me with disgust as I came out of the bedroom. She kept her head down and ate without saying a word.

Mason, playing the good guy, remarked, "Yvie, didn't we agree not to stay mad at Mom?"

Reluctantly, my daughter muttered, "Mom."

"She's not feeling well after her flight," Mason explained. "Come sit down. It's your favorite chicken caesar salad."

He raised his eyebrows at me triumphantly, only for me to ignore him.

I heard footsteps approaching before Summer walked in behind the housekeeper.

"Good morning, Mrs. Fleming," she greeted me. "I came to deliver a contract to Mr. Fleming."

After they shook hands, Yvie invited Summer to join us for breakfast.

Summer pretended to decline politely, but the next second, she sat down in my seat.

Yvie pushed my breakfast in front of her and even poured her a full glass of the orange juice I loved.

Summer started chatting warmly with Yvie.

It turned out that they were schoolmates.

"Yvie, you're so outgoing! I was worried you'd hate me like Mrs. Fleming does…" Summer murmured.

"My mom overthinks things because she's going through menopause. Don't take her too seriously," Yvie said.

The two of them were getting along like best friends.

I was such a fool, still hoping they would remember my birthday.

I didn't eat. I simply walked out the door.

I was going to see Tanner Hutt, my first love, who was also a top lawyer.

At the café, I told Tanner about my situation.

"Have you made up your mind?" he asked with a smile.

Even at this age, he still had that annoying look on his face.

We might not have broken up if he had just been a bit gentler back then.

I pulled out a black card and pushed it to him.

"Here's a million. Once it's done, I'll pay you another million. Keep it professional. I want you to go all in," I told him.

Tanner looked at the card with a smile. "Alright."

After we discussed the divorce procedures, he offered to drive me home.

I found out today that his wife had passed away from a heart attack. Left with no children, he had poured himself into work.

Now, he'd become Nork's top lawyer.

As Tanner's limited-edition Maserati cruised along the road, I remarked with a frown, "You were never flashy. Since when did you start liking luxury cars?"

Tanner raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you use to like them too?"

I was caught off guard by his words.

I was young back then. Like every other young lady, I liked cool cars and handsome men.

When we arrived, I tossed him 500 dollars.

He looked at me, puzzled. "What's this?"

"A tip," I said, tilting my chin up.

"Alright, my liege," he replied.

Tanner told me what I needed to prepare before the divorce.

Following his advice, I found out about Mason's bank accounts. Then, I hired a private investigator, who got the address of the woman he's keeping.

It was the house I lived in before I got married. We moved out after starting a family because it was too small, and bought the current villa.

Mason had actually placed her in that house.

Since neither of them was home, I went in, only to find that everything inside was just as it used to be.

Clearly, Summer was trying hard to play the perfect lady of the house.

Photos of them were hung on the walls.

A pair of orange plush toys sat on the nightstand.

A familiar herbal scent lingered in the air.

A bag of herbs was laid on the dining table.

As Mason has had a chronic cough that never improved, I had specially hired a traditional healer to prepare these herbs.

I only gave the prescription to my mother-in-law. And yet, it had ended up here.

Was the problem with me? Otherwise, why would everyone in my family betray me so easily?

Someone returned suddenly.

Summer soon walked in cheerfully, clinging to Mason's arm.

"I'm so happy! Mason, we're finally having a son!" she said.