When Your Cheating Husband's Dream Become Your Divorce Evidence novel Chapter 57

Chapter 10

He looked up and saw me from across the street.

I didn’t walk over, just lowered the car window a crack and nodded slightly.

11 PM, Airport runway lights stretched like a golden river into the black night sky.

I stood by the fence outside the control tower, watching a plane slowly lift its nose, finally disappearing into the clouds.

Rex handed me an ice-cold beer: “Completely over?”

I took the beer, popped the tab, and hummed acknowledgment as the cold liquid slid down my throat, washing away the last trace of oppression.

He laughed and bumped my arm: “So what’s next? You can’t just stay busy with company affairs forever.”

I looked up at the vast sky: “Build a medical group that actually raises grassroots doctors’ salaries-starting with $2000 monthly allowances, so every child can support their parents without pressure.”

Three months later, StarMed Medical released its first quarterly report.

The cover didn’t feature suited executives, but a large group photo of me pushing my mom’s wheelchair through the farmers market-my mom holding freshly bought vegetables with a beaming smile, a small banner stuck to the wheelchair handle reading: “So no mother ever worries about $2000 living expenses again

The last page of the report bore a small line: “This report personally signed by StarMed Medical CFO Ms. Stella Parker, salary: $1.”

In the evening, I set up a small grill on the rooftop of my rental apartment in the old city district. Burger patties sizzled and steamed over the charcoal, the aroma of grilled meat filling the entire rooftop.

My mom, Rex, my bestie, and over a dozen former StarMed colleagues who’d quit to follow me sat packed around the small table, holding cups.

I raised cup, voice clear: “Here’s to us-to consciences no longer kidnapped by bank account numbers, to everyone brave enough to send $2000 monthly to thei parents, to the bright life!”

Everyone raised their cups together, cheers echoing across the rooftop.

The city’s neon lights twinkled in the distance, evening breeze carrying early summer osmanthus fragrance, gently embracing everyone.

My mom quietly placed a piece of pork in my plate, whispering: “Don’t just talk, eat up-it’ll get tough if over-baked.”

bit, spicy flavors instantly blooming in my mouth, so hot tears nearly fell.

That scalding heat was like the sweetness of the first toast at our wedding five years ago, and like the first breath of freedom today-vivid and real.

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