His Belated Apology Came Three Years Too Late for Me

Willa's POV

My husband, Caspian, faked his company’s bankruptcy. We had to sell our luxury cars and our mansion, squeezing into a leaky, moldy basement.

By day, I worked back-to-back shifts in the ER saving lives. By night, I slipped into revealing dresses to sling drinks at a bar, all to shoulder a massive debt that never even existed.

Until I bumped into him in a VIP room. The man who was supposedly drowning in stress was lounging on a sofa with his suit unbuttoned, swirling a glass of whiskey, a secretary in his arms. His mistress leaned in and smirked, telling me Caspian had found me boring for a long time.

She also bragged that while he claimed to be working until 3 AM, he was actually going back to our old house at 10 PM, sleeping in our master bedroom.

Caspian showed zero remorse. Instead, he demanded I roll over and accept the woman, tossing me a meager payoff and threatening to ruin my medical career.

I threw away my wedding ring. I swallowed my tears. I finally saw it all for what it was.

From today on, I am only doing one thing: taking back what belongs to me, piece by piece.

——

"VIP Room 7, third floor. A round of shots. The guests are big spenders, hurry."

Marnie shoved the tray into my hands.

I pushed the door open.

In the dim light, the man who was supposedly stressing over a five-million-dollar debt was lounging on a leather sofa. His suit jacket was half off. One hand held a whiskey, the other held his secretary.

The tray didn’t drop. ER training gave me steady hands.

Caspian looked up. His momentary shock was quickly masked by disgust.

"Willa? What the hell are you doing here dressed like that?"

"Working." I pushed the tray forward. "Making money. Aren't you still five million in the hole?"

Three months ago, Caspian told me his company was going under, buried in a five-million-dollar debt. We sold the villa in Thornbury Hills. We sold the cars. We moved into a damp, leaking basement on Deacon Street. He "worked overtime" until dawn. I worked grueling ER shifts at St. Alder during the day, and at 7:30 PM, I’d change clothes and head to The Sable Room on Rowan Street to serve drinks.

When Marnie handed me my first bikini uniform, she asked, "You sure about this? I’ve never seen a doctor wear this before."

I told her, "It pays fast."

Inside the room, the men exchanged looks before bursting into suppressed laughter. Someone whistled. Caspian didn't stand up. He didn't take off his coat to cover me. He just sat there, letting their gaze crawl all over me.

"Oh, honey..." Ottalie broke the silence. "Caspian told us ages ago your marriage was over. Why put on this tragic, devoted-wife act?"

She pulled a stack of hundred-dollar bills from her purse and shoved it right into my cleavage.

"Take it, Willa. You’re so vain you'd sell your dignity for cash—isn't this what you wanted?"

The room roared with laughter. She didn't pull back. Instead, she leaned into my ear and dropped her voice.

"He tells you he works until 3 AM," she whispered. "But he’s back at Thornbury Hills by ten. I'm the one sleeping in your master bedroom every night."

I gripped the empty tray, my knuckles turning white.

"Money accepted. Here are the drinks."

I turned and shut the door behind me.

"Stop right there!"

Caspian chased after me. His tie was loose. He was frowning, acting like I was the one who did something wrong.

"Quit this job tomorrow."

"Your debts aren't paid," I stared at him. "If I quit, who pays them?"

He froze, then shoved his hands into his pockets.

"The company is fine. It’s always been fine. The house is there, the cars are there. There isn't a single cent of debt," he said. "Willa, be smart about this. Accept Ottalie, and you're still Mrs. Ward. You can move back to the villa tomorrow."

The hallway was dead quiet. The music in the room pounded faintly behind the door.

So the five million never existed. I sold everything, moved into a slum, and spent my nights carrying drinks half-naked among strangers just to save him the money he needed to keep his mistress.

And now he wanted me to accept her living under my roof.

"Keep dreaming."

Caspian’s eyes turned to ice. "Don't push your luck. If you can’t accept it, we’ll divorce, and you won't take a dime."

He shook off my arm and walked back into the room without looking back.

Later that night, in the damp, foul-smelling basement, I sat on the spring bed, took off the wedding ring I’d worn for three years, and threw it in the trash.

At 2 PM the next day, Ottalie showed up at my ER office.

"I'm here for a prenatal checkup."

"This is the ER. Obstetrics is on the third floor."

"I know," she covered her mouth with a laugh, sighing in mock distress. "Don't be so hostile, Willa. Really, I didn't want this either, but Caspian chased me like a madman. I just couldn't refuse."

She stepped closer.

"Honestly, it's your fault. He told me so many times you were like a dead fish in bed. Remember when you visited his office a year ago?"

My breath caught. That day, he had stopped me at his desk, telling me he was swamped.

"You stood there asking about his day, and I was completely naked hiding under his desk. The second you shut the door, he pulled me out—"

"Shut up. Get out."

"Don't be in such a rush," she sneered. "I've got a surprise for you."

Ottalie unbuttoned the top of her silk blouse and thrust her chest forward.

Resting right on her collarbone was a sapphire necklace.

The only relic my late mother left me. Six months ago, Caspian was crying about creditors hounding him. I had placed it in his hands myself, telling him to pawn it to save the company.