His Fake Death, Her Real Regret The Billionaire Ex Who Came Back Married

My wife's male assistant deliberately ruined a painting I'd spent two full years creating.

In my anger, I made him work as a servant for three dayscleaning my art exhibition.

Kathleen Vance said nothing at first. Acted like nothing had happened.

But three months later, her company declared bankruptcy. She was thrown in prison.

To pay off tens of millions in debt, I worked three jobs a day, running myself into the ground.

For three whole years, debt collectors cornered me in dead-end alleys and humiliated me.

For a hundred dollars, I took a job as a "haunted house sleep tester."

Then one night, while I was serving tables, I heard herKathleen Vance, who was supposed to be rotting in prisonthrowing a lavish birthday party for her male assistant.

A friend asked, "Kathleen, you gave Nathan Harding a million-dollar watch, while your dear husband is risking his life in haunted houses for a hundred bucks. How can you be so heartless?"

Kathleen exhaled a plume of cigarette smoke and laughed coldly.

"Who told Abner Sanchez to force Nathan to be a servant? These three years are his punishment."

"Once the three years are up, I'll pretend to make a comeback."

"And he'll still be my devoted husband."

My body swayed in the cold wind. I stood there like a broken puppet.

So these three years of living hellthey were all part of your plan. Your punishment.

Fine then. I'll pay you back double.

1.

My entire being felt submerged in ice. Yet from inside, I could still hear another voiceDenise Winfield, one of her friends.

"Kathleen, he's still your husband. Before you married him, he was a pampered young heir. Don't you think you've been a little too cruel?"

"Last time I saw Abner, he looked terrible. Gaunt. Like he's barely hanging on."

Kathleen's voice was flat.

"We agreed on exactly three years. Not one day less."

"Besides, there's only a month left. He's made it this far. What's another few days?"

Denise hesitated, then spoke again.

"He came to me a while back. Begging. Just wanted to borrow a few hundred dollars."

"The great Abner Sanchez, heir to a fortuneI've never seen him so desperate."

Kathleen snorted. "You didn't lend it to him, did you?"

"Of course not. You said anyone who helped him would be dead to you. I wouldn't dare."

Through the haze of smoke, Kathleen smiled coldly.

"Smart girl."

"Abner Sanchez has always been arrogant and difficult. Nathan accidentally damaged one of his paintings, and he made Nathan serve as a house servant for three days."

"That kind of entitlement needed to be corrected. And lookthree years of punishment really did the trick."

Her voice dripped with pride. Satisfaction.

As if her punishment had reformed me. Made me a new man.

Denise sighed and swallowed whatever else she'd meant to say.

There were things she kept hidden.

Like what happened that day.

I had knelt before her.

Unbuttoned my own shirt.

"Just five hundred dollars. Please."

"Kathleen is sick in prison. She needs medical fees. I'm five hundred short."

They exchanged glancesthen burst out laughing.

"Is this really the great Abner Sanchez?"

"You used to be so proud. Wouldn't wear shoes that cost less than ten thousand. Now you're selling yourself for five hundred?"

I could only kneel there, listening, my face blank.

What expression was I supposed to wear?

Every shred of pride, every ounce of dignityground into nothing by reality.

"If you're willing to pay more..."

My voice cracked.

"I'll pose however you want."

The women laughed even harder.

Finally, the one who had remained silent spoke up from her seat on the sofa, her voice heavy with a sigh.

"Just go."

"Even if you knelt here and kowtowed a hundred times, we still wouldn't help you."

Because Kathleen had given them explicit instructions beforehand.

Punishment was punishment.

For three full years, they were forbidden from showing me any mercy or offering me the slightest assistance.

Only then could they properly avenge her assistant, Nathan.

So how did I eventually scrape together that five hundred dollars?

I walked into a hospital and sold my blood.

When I finally brought the money to the prison, I was told Kathleen had already been released on medical parole.

That money passed through several hands before reaching one of Kathleen's friends.

I was so desperate I nearly dropped to my knees.

"Pleasemake sure this gets to Kathleen. She can't afford any more trouble."

But at that very moment, Kathleen was with Nathan at Disney, posing for photos.

She took my five hundred dollars and tossed it at a staff member like a crumpled receipt.

"Dirty money from God knows where. How revolting."

Just like my devotiontrampled without a second thought.

And now, here was Kathleen herself, displaying a blue-and-white porcelain vase worth over a million dollars as mere decoration for Nathan's birthday celebration.

Every detail had been meticulously planned.

But I had no stomach to watch any more.

Several times I nearly lost controlnearly charged in there.

I wanted to appear before Kathleen and slap her across the face, again and again.

I wanted to demand why she had deceived me for three years. Was it really just because I made Nathan work as a servant for three days?

I wanted to show her everythingevery wound I'd suffered over those three years, every scar on my body.

Lay it all bare before her eyes.

But in the end, I did nothing.

I watched the woman who should have been behind bars for three more days. She stood there in a couture gown worth a small fortune, looking every inch the ruthless queen.

She had thrown this lavish, extravagant birthday party specifically for her assistant.

She had summoned her entire social circle to celebrate, gazing at Nathan with open adoration as she wished him happy birthday.

Then I turned away, expressionless, and returned to the basement rental.

Dark. Damp. I had lived there for three years.

The bathroom was right by the entrance, its walls thick with mold that had accumulated over time, the stench of decay drifting through at random.

I still remembered my first days therethe constant nausea, the retching.

For the first twenty-five years of my life, I had wanted for nothing. I was the eldest son of the wealthy Sanchez family, raised in privilege, never having tasted hardship.

I was also an internationally renowned painter, my shelves lined with prestigious awards.

At the height of my success, Kathleen Vancethe heiress of the Vance familyhad pursued me relentlessly until I agreed to marry her.

After the wedding, I had effortlessly become what people called a "winner at life."

Until Kathleen hired a timid, unassuming assistant named Nathan.

He was the son of my family's housekeeper, yet he competed with me at every turn.

His clothes weren't as fine as mine, so he mocked me as a useless pretty boy.

His abilities couldn't match mine, so he whispered behind my back that I had only gotten where I was through birthright or my wife's influence.

Worse still, he had schemed his way into becoming Kathleen's assistantand never missed an opportunity to poison her against me.

He told her how I supposedly mistreated his mother at home, ruined his clothes.

How I had made him kneel and serve as a manservant.

I had always believed the truth would speak for itself. I never bothered to defend myself.

Until the day I finally completed the painting I had worked on for two full years.

I was about to have it framed. I stepped out for just a moment.

When I returned, it was drenched in ink.

Nathan stood nearby, ink bottle in hand, looking insufferably pleased with himself.

"Two whole years you spent on that painting. Let's see you show off in front of Kathleen now that it's ruined."

I saw red. My fist connected with his face before I even realized I'd swung.

"You're always spreading rumors that I make you work like a servant?" I grabbed him by the collar. "Fine. For the next three days, you will be my servant. You're going to clean every inch of this studio until it's spotless."

That's when the door burst open.

Kathleen stormed in, took one look at the scene, and immediately pulled Nathan behind her like a shield.

"Abner, can you please get your temper under control?" Her voice dripped with disapproval. "Nathan tries so hard. Yes, he comes from a difficult backgroundbut why do you always have to target him?"

My chest heaved. "Kathleen, you need to understandhe started this"

Before I could finish, Nathan ducked further behind her, his face crumpling into a mask of wounded innocence.

"Kathleen, it's my fault. I was just trying to help Abner clean the studio, and I accidentally knocked over the ink onto his painting." His voice cracked perfectly. "He said he'd sell me to a nightclub. And then hehe called my mother a whore. Said she gave birth to a little whore."

Tears streamed down his cheeks. "I can take the hitting. I can take the yelling. But why did he have to drag my mother into this?"

He was good. I had to give him that. Every sob, every trembling wordflawless.

Kathleen didn't ask me for my side. Didn't investigate. Didn't even hesitate.

She just looked at me with cold disappointment. "Abner, what's happened to you? I don't even recognize you anymore."

I wanted to scream.

Even with Kathleen defending him, I refused to back down. Nathan served those three days as promised.

When it was over, Kathleen acted like nothing had happened. She just sighedlight, dismissive.

"Abner, that temper of yours... when are you going to grow out of it? It was just a painting." She waved her hand. "You've had your revenge. Let it go."

I was naive enough to believe it was over.

A few days later, news broke that Kathleen's company had gone bankrupt.

She was arrested shortly after, leaving me to deal with the wreckage.

At first, I wasn't worried. Even if the Vance family collapsed, I still had my parents.

I called them immediately.

Both numbers had been disconnected.

Panic clawed at my throat. I rushed homeonly to have Butler Thatcher deliver the news in a hollow voice.

The day the Vance family's troubles became public, my parents had rushed back to help. Their car hit a landslide on a mountain road.

Neither survived.

My world collapsed overnight.

No parents. No husband to lean on. I sold everything I owned and moved into a damp basement, hiding from the loan sharks who'd somehow inherited my debts.

I couldn't sleep. Every creak, every shadowI waited for them to find me.

They did.

A group of men stormed into the basement with wooden clubs. I curled into a ball, but it didn't matter.

Two ribs, broken. My wrist, shattered.

I would never hold a paintbrush again.

It took three years for me to accept my fate.

I gave up everythingmy art, my pride, my hopejust to survive.

And now I was being told it was all a lie.

Kathleen's "punishment" had stripped me to the bone and rebuilt me into someone I didn't recognize.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Kathleen.

"Abner, I'm getting released in three days. Don't forget to pick me up."

My hand tightened around the phone until my knuckles went white. A dull ache spread through my chest.

Even now, she was still playing her part.

She was already at the birthday party. I'd seen it with my own eyesher arms around Nathan, the massive cake, the beautiful decorations, everyone celebrating.

And she was still treating me like a fool.

I stared at those words until tears blurred my vision.

I blinked them away and read the message again.

I typed out a reply:

"Okay. I'll pick you up in three days."

Three days later, I didn't expose Kathleen's lies. I went to the prison gates to collect her.

I spotted her from a distancedressed in tattered clothes, playing the part of a woman ruined by bankruptcy. She'd even used makeup to paint a fake scar across her face.

When she saw me, she limped over, throwing herself into my arms.

"Abner!"

She clung to me, eyes brimming with tears.

"I worked so hard to atone while I was inside. They said my behavior was exemplary, so they released me early." Her voice trembled with practiced emotion. "Abner, these past few years must have been so hard on you."

She looked at me with such devotionas if she'd truly suffered three years behind bars.

I gently pushed her away, my expression unchanged. "It's good you're out."

Kathleen faltered, something flickering in her eyes. She seemed to sense something was off. But then, in the next instant, she grabbed my wrist.

"Abner, what happened to your wrist?"

Her concern looked genuine. The worry in her face didn't seem fake.

But I found it laughable.

Kathleen, what are you pretending for?

You're the one who sent those peoplethe ones disguised as debt collectors who beat me until I looked like this.

And now you play innocent?

A hollow weariness settled over me. Or maybe I was just afraid to face what would happen when the lies finally crumbled.

"It's nothing. I fell." I pulled my hand free. "The doctor said it'll heal with time."

Kathleen exhaled, visibly relieved. "That's good."

She reached for my hand again, lacing her fingers through mine with exaggerated tenderness.

"The injury's on your right wrist. If it gets worse and affects your painting, you'll be devastated." Her voice dripped with saccharine concern.

Every word was a knife.

I used to have extraordinary talent. International awards, critical acclaimeveryone said I had a brilliant future ahead of me.

But for the drug trials. For the money.

To get Kathleen out of prison sooner.

I let them destroy my wrist.

Now I can't even hold a brush.

And it turns out all of itevery sacrificewas just part of some twisted punishment game Kathleen had orchestrated.

How pathetic.

I stayed silent the entire drive. Kathleen grew visibly nervous, filling the quiet with a stream of chatterstories about prison life, carefully rehearsed anecdotes she'd clearly pulled from the internet.

All to convince me she'd really spent three years locked away.

I listened without hearing, and when she finally paused, I asked quietly:

"Kathleen."

"Did I do something wrong?"

She went rigid. Her eyes reddened as she turned to face me.

"What do you mean, Abner? Why would you ask that?"

My mind drifted to the last time I'd been allowed to visit.

I'd been so happy. I'd saved up my meager allowance for weeks, bought meat and vegetables, cooked everything myself, and brought it to her.

No wonder she'd wrinkled her nose and refused to eat.

The food was too cheap for her.

Of course it was. I thought she'd been suffering in prison for three years.

But the whole time, she'd been traveling the world with her male assistantdining on imported delicacies and five-star meals.

Why would she ever lower herself to share my hardship?

Even that prison visit had been theater. A hundred and twenty dollars to rent out the scene and play her part.

Three years. Three years I'd been their fool, their plaything, spinning in circles while they laughed.

Tears slid down my cheeks before I could stop them.

Kathleen's composure cracked. She lunged forward, dabbing at my face.

"Abner, why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?"

I looked into her eyes.

"If someone hurt me, what would you do?"

"Would you still protect me like you swore beforeno matter the cost, even if it meant your life?"

Kathleen's hands trembled as she grabbed tissues to wipe my tears.

She didn't hesitate. Just nodded, fierce and certain.

"Anything, Abner. Whatever you needjust say it. I'll make it happen."

I held her gaze. Those eyes, so earnest. So sincere.

"Really?"

"Then I want you to kill Nathan."

Her head snapped up. She stared at me, frozen.

"What did you just say?"

Panic flickered across her face. "Did something happen? Did you misunderstand something?"

She was terrified I'd caught on.

Her whole body went rigid.

"After the company went under, Nathan resigned and moved abroad. I haven't had any contact with him in three years."

"Did he come after you while you were in prison? If he did, I swear I'll make him pay"

I caught her wrist. Let out a soft laugh.

"I'm kidding."

"Murder's illegal, you know."

"You just got out of prison. How could I bear to send you back?"

"I was just teasing."

I turned away to grab something, keeping my expression hidden.

She couldn't see my face. Couldn't see what was really there.

She thought it was just a joke. I heard her exhalerelief bleeding out of her.

"Abner, I'm sorry."

"These three years... you've suffered so much."

I didn't turn around.

But in my heart, I thought:

It's fine.

Your reckoning is coming.

After Kathleen's release, I started making frequent trips to the hospital.

The doctor pulled me aside. "Are you really not going to tell your family?"

"This isn't some minor illness. Your wife has a right to know."

I shook my head, smiling faintly.

"Let's leave it. I don't want her to know. And I don't want treatment anymore."

Kathleen was lurking in the corridor, catching fragments of the conversation. But not enough to piece together.

When I walked out, she was waiting.

"How did it go?" Concern painted her features. "What did the doctor say?"

I smiled and shook my head, about to answer

When Nathan's call cut through.

"Kathleen, I've got way too much cake at my place. Come help me finish it?"

"Oh, and I bought you a bikini set. Want to come try it on?"

"Sure. I'm on my way."

Her lips curved upwardjust slightlyas she replied, voice perfectly calm.

She thought I hadn't heard. Covered the phone with her hand and turned to me, expression serious.

"Abner, remember that new project I mentioned? I'm going to discuss it now. If it works out, we might actually get back on our feet."

I stared into Kathleen's eyes.

When she'd proposed to me, those same eyes had been filled with sincerity.

Now they held that same sincerity.

But the lies spilling from her lips? She didn't even blink.

My gaze must have unnerved her. She started to fidget, nearly tripping over her own composure.

"Abner, are you... is something wrong?"

"Go ahead."

"If you can turn things around, you won't have to worry about those debt collectors anymore."

Those debt collectorsevery single one of them sent by Kathleen herself.

They'd cornered me in that dead-end alley.

Stripped the house of anything worth taking.

Most days, I went three days between meals. When the hunger became unbearable, I'd drink tap water until my stomach stopped screaming.

Kathleen let out a breath of relief, grabbed her coat, and walked out.

I watched her retreating figure. Felt my gaze turn cold.

I thought about last nightwaking up in tears, asking Kathleen

"Where are my parents?"

Back when Kathleen's company went bankrupt, I'd tried to reach out to my parents for help.

But I couldn't get through to them.

Kathleen told me they'd been caught in a landslide on their way back. Both of themgone.

She said the bodies were never recovered. I spent three years searching. But just two days ago, I finally learned the truth.

They weren't dead at all.

Kathleen had tricked them into going abroad.

Three whole years.

For three years, Kathleen had been using my phone to send them messages, telling them I was finewhile I rotted away in that hellhole, and they had no idea.

"Kathleen."

I looked into her eyes and decided to give her one last chance.

"Is there anything you've been hiding from me?"

She blinked, then reached over to ruffle my hair.

"Silly. How could I ever hide anything from you?"

I lowered my gaze, my eyes dimming.

"Good."

After a pause, I said, "I miss my parents."

"First thing tomorrow, I'll take you to visit their graves."

I asked about my parents' estatesurely they would have left me something.

But Kathleen's answer came out halting, evasive.

"Everything happened so suddenly. Before I could even sort through their affairs, I was framed and thrown in prison."

"But now I have plenty of time to investigate what really happened back then."

Her gaze flickered. She took my hand.

"Abner, maybe your parents aren't really dead. Maybe there's still hope."

Ha.

The three-year mark was almost here. She'd lied to me about my parents' deaths, and now she couldn't keep the story straight anymore.

So she pivotedclaimed there might be hope after all.

Too bad. She'd already squandered her last chance.

A few days later, Kathleen made an excuse about a business meeting. In reality, she was going to see Nathan.

I watched the clock hands creep toward midnight, then scattered sleeping pills across the floor.

The doctor called. "Everything's ready."

I nodded and sent Kathleen a message.

"Kathleen, your punishment won. You wanted to back Nathan up? Fine. Take everything."

"Take my life too."

At that same moment, a phone buzzed frantically.