“Nicole, a person must have a conscience. The moment your uncle walked into the police station, I swore that I would take care of you for the rest of my life.”
“Nicole, without you, there would be no Michael today. Everything I have is yours.”
But conscience has no legally binding force.
In the third year of our marriage, he cheated on me with Fiona, a law student we were sponsoring.
We intend to contribute to society and recruit excellent talent for law firms.
Fiona was indeed outstanding. She landed a major case right after joining the firm, her sharp wit and unique legal insights quickly making her a rising star.
They had endless things to talk about, countless case insights to share.
They often argued heatedly, then smiled at each other.
Finally, they ended up in bed together.
Aunt Wendy brought in gourmet soup, interrupting my jumbled memories.
I touched my face and realized it was cold.
Suddenly, I realized I had unconsciously shed tears, something I hadn’t done in a long time.
I tossed the fake medical report into the shredder, straightened my clothes, and sat down at the low table.
I think I’d cried all my tears three years ago; back then, tears flowed like a tap, plentiful but worthless.
After Fiona joined the firm, she called me “Nicole” and became like family.
On the day she landed a nationally renowned case, I specially bought a cake to celebrate.
On my way home, I saw Michael’s car. That day, I suddenly felt like teasing them, and as I was about to get out of my car, I suddenly appeared in front of them.
I watched him cross the traffic light, watched him get further and further away from home, and finally stop in front of a secluded hotel.
I watched them go into the room, naturally undress, and embrace. I went crazy, grabbing Fiona’s hair and slapping her face.
That day, Michael grabbed me and threw me against the wall, just like when I was ten years old, blood streaming down my forehead and face.
Back then, his eyes were full of anger; he slashed a neighbor’s neck with a knife, and cried while holding me.
Now, his eyes are still full of anger, but he’s holding another woman.
“You’re crazy! Fiona is pregnant! Are you trying to kill my child?”
I stood there, stunned. They already had a child? I don’t know how many times they’d slept together.
I angrily lunged at Fiona, pounding on her.
“You slut, whose bastard are you carrying? Have you no shame?”