When His Devotion Came Too Late

It had been a week since I last submitted a reimbursement request, and Adrian Hunt finally noticed. He tossed a black card at me with a look of contempt.

I've already covered your father's dialysis. Stop bothering me with this petty crap.

I know your bottomless pit isn't easy to fill, but you don't have to be so desperate about it.

What he didn't know was that by the time I caught that card, I'd already signed my organ donor papers and the divorce agreement.

As I walked out the door, I was still wearing the same faded, pilled hoodie he'd tossed me five years ago.

No one would believe that Mrs. Hunt, wife of the man who controlled half the entertainment industry, had to photograph receipts for five-dollar packs of pads and send them to his secretary for approval.

All because he was convinced that someone like me, a gold digger in his eyes, would turn rotten the second she had cash in hand.

But a week ago, when my father went into kidney failure and needed an emergency transfusion, I knelt and begged him for thirty thousand dollars.

His secretary deliberately canceled my transfer request, smiling as she said she wanted to help me break my "insatiable" habits.

Adrian never knew I swallowed that humiliation just to keep my father alive in his private hospital.

Now that my father had been unplugged for non-payment and his ashes scattered, there was no reason for me to stay and play his obedient dog.

My phone vibrated.

Adrian's message popped up on the screen, dripping with condescending charity.

"I've resumed your father's treatment. From now on, behave yourself. And stop lying to squeeze more money out of me."

"I know it's not easy coming from the gutter, but my money isn't that easy to scam."

I stared at those two lines with a strange kind of calm.

I typed back one word.

"Okay."

I set down my phone and signed the divorce papers in front of me.

Adrian probably thought I hadn't asked him to reimburse any expenses for three days because I was throwing a tantrum.

What he'd call giving him the "silent treatment."

After all, for the past three years, I'd lived like a dog for Dad's medical bills.

I had no income whatsoever.

Adrian wouldn't let me work. Said it was embarrassing for his wife to be seen in public.

But he never gave me money for the house either.

Every cent I spent had to be approved through the company.

Groceries? Approval.

Sanitary pads? Approval.

Even subway fare, a couple of dollars, had to come with a receipt uploaded.

The one approving it all was his personal secretary, Victoria Snow.

That woman who'd been by his side since college.

Three days ago, the hospital issued a critical condition notice.

Dad had a sudden brain hemorrhage and needed immediate surgery.

Two hundred thousand dollars.

For Adrian, that was barely the cost of a bottle of wine.

I called him frantically.

After a dozen tries, someone finally answered.

But it was Victoria who picked up.

"Clara, Adrian's in a meeting. What's so urgent?"

I couldn't care about anything else. I begged her through tears. "Victoria, let me talk to Adrian. My dad's dying, I need two hundred thousand for surgery!"

Victoria laughed lightly.

"Clara, you know the company rules."

"Two hundred thousand isn't a small amount. You need to go through the approval process."

"Adrian hates people who don't follow rules. If you ask for money directly like this, he'll be angry."

"Hurry and submit an approval request in the system. I'll approve it as soon as I see it."

The call ended.

My hands shook so badly I could barely hold my phone as I filled out the form in that goddamn approval system.

Reason: Dad's surgery fees.

Amount: $200,000.

Attachment: Critical condition notice.

Submit.

I stared at the screen. One second, two seconds.

Ten minutes later, my phone rang.

Not a transfer confirmation. A rejection notice from the approval system.

Rejected by: Victoria Snow.

Rejection reason: Attachment format unclear. Please rescan and reupload.

Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice.

I took new photos.

My hands were shaking, making the pictures slightly blurry. I took another one.

Every second was a matter of life and death.

I submitted again.

Five minutes later, rejected.

Rejection reason: Requested amount too large, requires detailed expense breakdown, accurate to individual medication prices.

I was going insane.

The surgery hadn't even happened yet, the doctor was still in emergency treatment-where was I supposed to get an itemized breakdown accurate to individual prices?

I messaged Victoria on SnapChat.

"Please, approve it first. This is life-saving money!"

"I'll provide the details later. Victoria, this is a human life!"

Victoria sent back a cute emoji.

"Clara, it's not that I won't help you."

"That's just how the finance system works. It's difficult for me too."

"You've always been too careless. You can't bring those bad habits from poverty into a wealthy family."

"Adrian said he needs to teach you discipline."

I knelt outside the operating room, phone in hand.

Like a mangy dog with its spine torn out.

I sent Adrian texts, voice messages.

"Adrian, I'm begging you."

"As long as you give me the money, I'll listen to whatever you say from now on."

"I won't make trouble anymore. I won't be jealous of Victoria anymore. Please, please save my dad."

Half an hour later.

Adrian finally sent back a voice message.

The background was noisy, his voice carrying the irritation of someone slightly drunk.

"Do what Victoria says."

"Stop bothering me."

At that moment, the operating room light went out.

The doctor emerged, removed his mask, and shook his head regretfully.

"I'm sorry. If the payment had come through just ten minutes earlier so we could have administered the medication..."

I didn't hear the rest.

I only felt the world suddenly go quiet.

That old man who'd raised me through hardship, who picked through trash to pay for my education-

He'd died in this prosperous city because of an approval form with "incorrect formatting."

As his body gradually grew cold, so did my love for Adrian.

For three days, I handled the aftermath. Cremation, burial.

I didn't tell Adrian.

Because there was no point.

Wasn't he afraid I'd scam him for money?

From now on, I wouldn't ask him for a single cent.

I looked at the "charity text" Adrian had just sent.

A smile curved my lips.

He thought I was playing games to get his attention again.

Little did he know-this was the last bit of dignity I was giving him.

A red dot suddenly appeared on my social media.

Victoria had posted something.

The photo showed high-end Japanese cuisine and a man's hand wearing a Patek Philippe watch on his wrist-the same one I'd once wanted to give Adrian.

Caption: "Thanks to my boss for bringing me to such a nice restaurant. Some people only know how to beg for money. So annoying."

I liked the post.

This was the first time I'd ever liked one of Victoria's posts.

The next second, Adrian's call came through.

He'd probably seen my like and thought I was being passive-aggressive.

I didn't answer.

He sent a message instead.

"Clara, who are you being sarcastic for?"

"Don't make people misunderstand Victoria. She's just doing her job."

"Delete that like immediately, or I'll cancel your card."

Doing her job?

Doing her job murdering people?

I laughed.

I opened that post and left a comment below it.

"Miss Snow climbed to the top by withholding life-saving money from the boss's wife. What a windfall. Hope you two are locked together forever-bitch and dog, happily ever after."

Post.

Block.

Turn off phone.

The world went quiet.

I started packing.

Actually, there wasn't much to pack.

I'd lived in this so-called home for three years.

The things that belonged to me were pitifully few.

The walk-in closet was huge.

The left side was full of Adrian's custom-tailored suits.

The right side had several locked cabinets-for jewelry and designer bags.

Victoria held both the keys and fingerprint access.

Every time I attended a party, I had to ask Victoria's permission like I was borrowing props.

After using them, I had to return them.

Once, I accidentally got the hem of a dress dirty.

Victoria made me write a three-thousand-word self-criticism in front of the servants.

She also docked next month's "living expenses."

Adrian just watched from the side and said coolly, "Victoria's trying to teach you a lesson. These things are expensive. You couldn't afford to replace them."

Right.

I couldn't afford it.

I was an orphan. A "nobody" in their eyes.

I opened my little corner.

Inside hung a few pilled sweaters. Several faded jeans.

The only decent thing was the white T-shirt I'd worn when I married into this family three years ago.

Back then, I wasn't yet married to Adrian.

I was Northwestern University's youngest physics graduate student, a promising genius.

Adrian said he liked that cool, aloof quality about me.

He said, "Clara, marry me. I'll give you a home."

I believed him.

I gave up my chance to study abroad, ignored my mentor's pleas to stay.

I became a housewife, turned myself into a joke in this gilded cage.

I took off the "cheap" hoodie Adrian despised.

I put on that yellowed white T-shirt.

The jeans were a bit loose now.

Over these three years, I'd lost a full twenty pounds.

I pulled out a worn suitcase.

I packed a few books, some photos, and Dad's urn.

Nothing else.

Everything in this mansion had nothing to do with me.

I walked down the stairs.

The housekeeper Emma was polishing a vase. Seeing me with my suitcase, she rolled her eyes.

"Mrs. Hunt, running away from home again?"

"Mr. Hunt said if you walk out that door this time, don't expect to come back."

"Also, Mr. Hunt wants soup for dinner. Don't forget to make it."

In this house, even the servants looked down on me.

Because they knew I didn't even have the authority to pay their wages.

In fact, my "allowance" was less than their salaries.

I stopped and looked at Emma.

"Make the soup yourself. Or have Victoria make it."

Emma froze, apparently never having seen me this defiant.

"What's that attitude? Believe me, I'll tell Mr. Hunt..."

"Go ahead."

I pulled my suitcase and walked out the villa's front door without looking back.

The sunlight was blinding.

I raised my hand to shield my eyes.

Three years.

I'd finally walked out of this tomb.

Adrian came back faster than I'd expected.

Probably saw my comment and was furious.

Not to comfort me.

To seek justice for his precious darling.

I couldn't get a cab at the villa complex entrance.

A black Maybach screeched to a halt in front of me with an ear-piercing brake sound.

The door opened.

Adrian stepped out, his face frozen with anger.

Victoria followed behind him, her eyes red-rimmed, looking like she'd suffered a terrible injustice.

"Clara, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Adrian grabbed my wrist.

"Apologize to Victoria immediately!"

"What nonsense are you spouting on social media? What good does ruining someone's reputation do you?"

I looked at that face that once made my heart flutter.

Now I only felt disgusted.

"Nonsense?"

I shook off his hand and looked coldly at Victoria.

"Am I talking nonsense? Doesn't Miss Snow know the truth?"

"Three days ago, my dad was on the operating table waiting for money to save his life."

"Miss Snow rejected my application because the format was wrong and the amount was too large."

"Does Mr. Hunt know about this?"

Adrian froze for a moment.

He clearly didn't know the details.

He only knew I wanted money and Victoria said it didn't comply with regulations.

He instinctively looked at Victoria.

Victoria's body trembled, tears instantly streaming down.

"Adrian... I didn't..."

"I was just following company finance procedures."

"And... and Clara's tone was very aggressive at the time. I didn't realize it was life-saving money..."

"Besides, I had finance prepare it later. Clara just didn't submit again."

What a sharp tongue.

What a convenient excuse. "Didn't submit again."

The person was already dead. Should I have submitted it for the King of Hell to review?

After listening, Adrian's frown deepened. He turned to look at me, his eyes full of disappointment.

"Clara, you've really let me down."

"Victoria was just doing her job. Do you have to be so vicious?"

"Doesn't your dad have chronic conditions? How could it be that serious?"

"Over this little money, you slander Victoria online. Where's your upbringing?"

Upbringing?

Lecture a murderer about upbringing?

I laughed bitterly.

"Adrian, you're hopelessly blind."

"Since you trust her so much, we have nothing more to say."

"The divorce papers are on the study desk. Sign them."

I grabbed my suitcase to leave.

Adrian, enraged by my attitude, snatched my suitcase and slammed it to the ground.

The case was already old. The zipper burst open.

Contents scattered everywhere.

A few worn clothes. Some books.

And a black wooden box.

The urn rolled once, twice, then stopped at Adrian's feet.

Adrian froze.

He stared at the box, his pupils contracting sharply.

"What is this?"

I bent down and carefully picked up the urn, brushing off the dust.

"This is my dad. Adrian. Are you satisfied now?"