Chapter 82: Breaking Points
“Start,” Easton emphasized sternly. “Otherwise, I’m heading back to the office.”
“Like you’re the only one working? Don’t I work too? Are you always this annoying?” Ellis was out of patience, no longer caring if the deadbeat was trying to trip her up; she couldn’t stand his self-righteousness. “Beg me, and not only can you move back home, I’ll restore the credit limit on your supplementary card, and you can even come back to work as my assistant at my company! What more could you want?” Easton thought he was being extremely generous by lowering his standards, not making Ellis suffer outside for too long.
“Where you live is your home; the apartment I rent is my home!” Ellis firmly denied that the place she had lived with Easton was her home—it was, at best, a temporary shelter to her now. “Everything you’re offering… I don’t need! Divorcing you is what satisfies me most!”
“Ellis!” Easton looked at the girl in his arms with displeasure. “Don’t push your luck, constantly testing my limits. You’d better know when to stop; I’m not always this easy to talk to.”
“I suggest you get your brain checked at the hospital; you can’t seem to understand plain English. Are you intellectually disabled or something?” Ellis couldn’t help but poke Easton’s forehead. “You don’t understand a word I say!”
Easton grabbed the hand Ellis used to poke him, folding it into a fist and wrapping his own hand around it, feeling the solidity and warmth of her hand, which slightly eased the gloom in his heart and subdued his irritation.
“Let’s clear the air: I don’t have time for your fickleness, one minute playing these games, the next pulling these stunts! If you beg me, I’ll let bygones be bygones, and you can continue being my glamorous wife!” Easton’s intention wasn’t to put an end to the divorce drama once and for all—as it seemed, that wouldn’t be possible today. Deep down, he felt a premonition: if he didn’t give her a way out that she could accept, Ellis would slowly change until she became completely unrecognizable to him. He didn’t want to relive the experience of her disliking him, not wanting him too close—because he wasn’t used to it. He was accustomed to her clinging to him, like a koala, even if sometimes she didn’t seem to understand his moods; he still let her cling.
“So what if I’m your glamorous wife? I’m just a parasitic vine dependent on you! Though it seemed glamorous, the price was enduring humiliation by her husband, not being loved by him, suffering through his infidelities, and living without dignity.” Ellis scoffed. “Rather than depending on you, I prefer to support myself with my own hands.”
Relying on marrying a deadbeat to enjoy the best material life, Ellis had once been lost in it, truly enjoying the lavish spending without a care, happy to shop whenever it pleased her. But the hidden costs were more than she could bear and made her feel very insecure. Trying hard to make the deadbeat love her, guarding against him being seduced by other women, and constantly tormented by fear of loss—all her emotional ups and downs were controlled by the deadbeat. Even if the deadbeat didn’t mean to control them, she was tired of loving someone unilaterally. Love was exhausting, easily costing one’s life. After a lucky escape from a kidnapping, she got a second chance at life, to see the world anew. To throw herself back into the cage of love was no different from seeking her own demise. And most importantly, whatever the deadbeat promised her in begging for mercy, he could just as easily take it back later, and she couldn’t stop him. Right now, by settling for those material things, she was begging for mercy, which was an insult to her dignity. Dignity was more important than material goods or love; in the past, she had neglected her own dignity for love, willingly humiliated by the deadbeat, but she was not going to be fooled and humiliated by his material temptations. No longer needing love and not desperate for material things, she had the confidence to confront the deadbeat.
Ellis said sharply, “Anyone who isn’t being my wife is welcome to the manor. I don’t…”
The last time she had uttered the words “I don’t love” was when she picked up his mother from the airport. Hearing them again, though in a different context, instantly filled Easton with irritation. This wave of discomfort was both unfamiliar and overwhelming. He paused, watching her intently, before replying. “Your actions don’t match your words.”
“If you’re only talking about the divorce, then my actions have always matched my words. As for why you think they don’t, you should reflect on whether you’re biased against me.” The last part, Ellis felt, was pointless to say. How can the deadbeat reflect? He’s inherently biased against me, without any trust.
“At the manor, you drugged me and pushed Carly to convince my mother to void our prenup. All of this proves that your words and actions don’t line up,” Easton said, eyeing her from head to toe. “I’m not biased; I know exactly what kind of person you are.”