My Trash Husband and Spoiled Daughter Got What They Deserved

Late at night, my husband stumbled home drunk. As he fumbled with his coat, a diamond ring slipped out of his pocket and clattered onto the hardwood floor. My heart leaped with joy. I smiled, thinking he had finally remembered to make up for the wedding we never had. But I waited day after day, and the only thing I got was Monica Davis’s public announcement on Instagram. In the photo, she was wearing the diamond ring, snuggled in my husband’s chest, smiling like a cat that got the cream. "A gift from my favorite man. I'm absolutely obsessed." It was only then that I realized Carter knew everything. He had just been playing dumb this whole time. I left a comment of congratulations under Monica’s post, took a screenshot, and texted it to my husband. "I don't want the things I have to beg for anymore. And that includes you." 1 "Excuse me. Which floor is Carter Miller’s office on?" I asked the receptionist, holding a neatly packed lunchbox. She looked me up and down with a cold, dismissive stare. "Fifth floor. And you are?" I gave her a polite smile and said calmly, "I'm his wife." I turned and walked toward the elevator, leaving her whispering behind my back. I didn't care. I was too excited, hummed a little tune, and clutched the warm lunchbox. Just last night, Carter came home wasted. He collapsed onto my shoulder the second he stepped through the door. As I helped him to the bedroom, I heard something metallic hit the floor. After tucking him in, I went back to check. There, under the hallway table, was a velvet jewelry box. I opened it with trembling fingers, revealing a stunning, sparkling diamond ring. I tried it on. It fit my ring finger perfectly. I couldn't help but laugh out loud. I still remembered when I married Carter. He had absolutely nothing. We didn't even have a proper wedding ceremony, just a quick trip to city hall. Over the years, he had built himself into a big-shot tech entrepreneur. I thought he was finally planning a surprise proposal to make it up to me. As I smiled, tears started rolling down my cheeks. I had spent years teaching this man how to love, and he was finally putting in the effort. So, I took the ring off, put it back in the box, and slipped it into his pocket. I pretended I hadn't seen anything, quietly waiting for his big surprise. Lost in my thoughts, I found myself standing right outside Carter's office door. "Oh, Carter, stop it! You're so bad!" A giggling, high-pitched female voice drifted through the door. My hand froze right before knocking. I gripped the handle of the lunchbox tighter and pushed the door open just a crack. Through the gap, I saw a girl sitting casually on the edge of Carter’s desk. She was playfully running her fingers through his hair, laughing. "Eat slower. No one’s going to steal it from you." Carter looked up at her with eyes full of tenderness. "I can't help it. Your cooking is just too good." I froze. In all the years we had been married, Carter had never once complimented my cooking. He was an incredibly picky eater. He hated this, refused to eat that. It was almost impossible to make something he liked, let alone get a compliment out of him. I pushed the door open further, wanting to see what kind of magical dish had won him over. But when I saw the food on the desk, my heart sank into a frozen abyss. My hands started shaking. It was seafood pasta with heavy garlic and asparagus. Every single thing on that plate was something he claimed to be absolutely allergic to or disgusted by. I couldn't stop myself from speaking up. "Is it really that good?" The two of them froze and snapped their heads toward me. Now I could see the woman clearly. She was Carter's personal assistant. And his college sweetheart—Monica Davis. Monica slid off the desk, extended her hand, and said with an air of mock professionalism, "Hi there. I'm his personal assistant, Monica." There was no respect in her eyes. In fact, she carried herself like she owned the place. I didn't shake her hand. I just gave her a cold nod. "Oh, just an assistant? The way you two were flirting, I thought you were his mistress." I had always been a straight shooter. Carter couldn't sit still anymore. He slammed his hand on the desk, stood up, and roared, "Chloe! Watch your mouth!" 2 I didn't say a word. I just dropped the lunchbox onto his desk with a heavy thud. Carter blinked, looking surprised. "You brought this for me?" I let out a dry laugh. "Who else? Your assistant?" Carter frowned, grabbed my arm, and dragged me out of the office. "Chloe, this is a corporate office. Stop making a scene here." "I've already eaten. Don't bother bringing me lunch anymore." I shook his hand off and looked him in the eyes. "Why is it that when I spend hours cooking your favorite meals, you barely touch them, but when she makes things you supposedly hate, you eat them like a starving dog?" Carter snatched the lunchbox from the desk, shoved it back into my hands, and sighed. "You wouldn't understand. Just go home." "I'm incredibly busy. Don't come to the office again unless it's an emergency." He pushed me out of the office. Before I knew it, two security guards appeared. One of them made a polite but firm gesture toward the exit. "This way, ma'am." Before I turned around, I caught a glimpse of Monica inside the office. She had her arms crossed, giving me a smug, victorious smirk. Down in the lobby, the security guard spoke in a serious tone. "Mrs. Miller, Mr. Miller has instructed us that you will need an appointment to enter the building from now on." I looked down and smiled bitterly. What a joke I was. When I got home, the moment I stepped through the door, my daughter started screaming from the kitchen. "Mom! What kind of garbage did you leave on the counter? It tastes disgusting!" "And where did you put the new designer bag and clothes you bought? I need to wear them to hang out with my friends." "Are you deaf? Answer me!" I stood there, completely numb. I didn't even realize when my once sweet, bright little girl had turned into such a spoiled, disrespectful brat. I looked at the counter and realized she had eaten the food I prepared. "That was wet food I mixed up for the cat," I said quietly. "Your actual dinner is in the fridge." Hailey’s face flushed with anger. She marched up to me and yelled, "Are you insane? Why would you put my food in the fridge?" "You did this on purpose just to ruin my day! I'm telling Dad!" I took a deep breath, trying to keep my patience. "You came into my room in the middle of the night yesterday begging for cold pasta salad. It's summer, Hailey. If I didn't put it in the fridge, it would have spoiled." Hailey choked on her words for a second, then snapped, "Well, you could have left a note! You clearly didn't want me to eat it anyway." "Dad was seriously blind to marry you. I wish Monica was my mom instead!" I froze, staring at her in sheer disbelief. "You... you know Monica?" She scoffed, looking at me with pure disdain. "Duh, of course I do." "Monica has been visiting me at school and bringing me the best snacks." "She told me that if she hadn't gotten sick and had to move to Europe years ago, you would have never had the chance to marry Dad!" "You stole him from her!" She looked me up and down, sneering. "Honestly, you don't even compare to her." "Now that she's back and working with Dad, if I were you, I'd just sign the divorce papers and pack my bags. Let them be together." "After all, Dad and Monica actually look good together." My hands started shaking violently. I pointed at her, my voice cracking. "Hailey! I am your mother! How can you say something so cruel to me?" "And you actually believe the lies of some home-wrecking outsider?" Hailey snatched my new designer bag from the sofa and shrugged. "Stop trash-talking Monica. She didn't lie." "She's gorgeous, young, and sweet. Anyone would love her." "Look at you. You're so shrivelled up and frumpy, you look like a grandma!" With that, Hailey turned on her heel and slammed the front door behind her, leaving me standing alone in the silent house. I sank onto the couch, staring at my reflection in the dark screen of my phone. It wasn't like I was always like this. In my twenties, I was stunning. Everyone told me I was a natural beauty. But after having Hailey, my stomach was ruined with stretch marks, and my skin lost its glow from sleepless nights. It felt like I had aged ten years overnight. I had forgotten what it felt like to be beautiful. *Buzz.* A text from Carter popped up on my screen. "Working late tonight. Don't wait up." 3 My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I typed: "But today is our anniversary. You promised you'd spend it with me this year." I stared at the message for a long time, then deleted it, word by word. That night, I went to our favorite Italian restaurant alone. The hostess walked over and gave me a sympathetic smile. "Table for one, Chloe? You always come alone on this date." I forced a tight smile. "Yes. The usual, please." I barely touched the food. It felt like ash in my mouth. I had the waiter pack up the leftovers, and for some stupid reason, I drove back to Carter's office building. The lobby was empty. The receptionist was walking out with her purse. She stopped when she saw me, looking uncomfortable. "Oh, you're back. Is everything okay?" I nodded, holding up the bag. "Carter said he was working late. I brought him some dinner." The receptionist's face went rigid. She cleared her throat. "Uh, actually..." "Mr. Miller left a couple of hours ago. He probably went to a business dinner. Don't worry too much." I could see right through her lie. I bit my lip and smiled. "Oh, I see. He must have forgotten to tell me. Thanks, have a good night." The receptionist nodded quickly, grabbed her friend's arm, and hurried out. As they walked away, I heard her friend whisper loudly, "Is that really his wife?" "Isn't Mr. Miller dating his assistant, Monica?" "Yeah, I literally saw them get into his Tesla together after work!" The words cut through the night air like glass. I clenched my fists and threw the takeout bag straight into the trash can. When I got home, I heard Hailey on the balcony. Her voice was sweet and gentle—a tone she never used with me. "Happy birthday, Monica! I'll give you your present tomorrow." "I was out with my friends today and almost forgot, luckily Dad reminded me." "I ordered a cake for you. Your favorite flavor. I remembered you're allergic to strawberries, so I got the mango one." "I'm rooting for you and Dad. Can't wait for you to be my new mom!" "Anyway, I'll let you two enjoy your romantic night. Bye!" A wave of dizziness hit me. Ever since Hailey grew up, I had never received a single birthday card from her. She couldn't remember what I was allergic to, but she kept track of Monica's allergies. She turned around and jumped when she saw me standing in the dark. "Are you crazy? Why are you creeping around, eavesdropping on my calls?" I didn't raise my voice. I just asked coldly, "Is your father with her right now?" She smirked and unlocked her phone, shoving it in my face. "Yeah. Dad is throwing her a birthday party." In the photo on Instagram, Monica was wearing that diamond ring, cuddled up in Carter's arms under the dim lights of a fancy lounge. The caption read: "A gift from my favorite man. I'm absolutely obsessed." I looked down and laughed at myself. I was such an idiot. They were a match made in heaven, and I was just the annoying third wheel. I snatched Hailey's phone, tapped the comment section under Monica’s post, and typed: "What a beautiful couple. I hope you stay locked together forever!" I took a screenshot of the post, sent it to my own phone, and threw Hailey’s phone back at her. Hailey realized what I did and screamed, "What the hell is wrong with you? You're just jealous because you're old!" I slapped her across the face. "Hailey, I've tolerated your disrespect for too long. Get out of my sight." I walked into my bedroom, texted the screenshot to Carter, and added one last message: "I don't want the things I have to beg for anymore. And that includes you."