On the fourth anniversary of my marriage to Wen Xingshen, my father was critically ill. But my husband was unreachable all night, and he transferred every last cent from our joint account, indirectly causing my father’s death.
Later, he explained that he’d hit someone with his car and used all the money to compensate the victim. But I pieced together the clues and discovered there was something unusual between him and the beautiful woman he’d hit.
Wen Xingshen still refused to tell me the truth, letting the trust between us crumble. Then, when I showed signs of a threatened miscarriage, my husband was accompanying another woman to the gynecologist. At last, my heart went cold.
After a kidnapping that had been carefully planned six years earlier, I learned from a neighbor with ulterior motives about the tangled relationship between Wen Xingshen and that woman. I refused to spend the rest of my life trapped in a three-way mess. I filed for divorce, fought to secure the best possible settlement, left all that toxic melodrama behind for good, and embraced true freedom.
