Part 1Five Years of Married Slavery Finally Ends

The moment Gavin brought his new mistress home, I started screaming and crying, throwing yet another hysterical tantrum.

As usual, Gavin looked at me with pure disgust, shielding the girl behind his back and telling me to stop being insane.

My rage was boiling over.

Just as I was about to raise my hand to strike, a familiar, long-forgotten mechanical voice chimed inside my mind.

"Dear Host, your five-year submissive trophy-wife mission has officially ended. Emotional manipulation has been deactivated."

"Please claim your one-billion-dollar cash prize and your divorce certificate. Wishing you a wonderful life!"

My high-raised hand paused mid-air. I let it drop gently, smoothing the wrinkles on Gavin's collar.

Then, I reached past him and softly stroked the mistress's hair, marveling at how smooth and perfect it was. It was definitely a head of hair worthy of marrying into wealth.

I let out a sudden, ecstatic laugh, turned on my heel, and bolted out the door.

…

Gavin's grip was brutal, clamping down hard around my wrist.

He towered over me, his gaze dripping with cold contempt.

"Are you done making a scene? Aren't you embarrassed, acting like this in front of guests?"

Behind his broad shoulders, his mistress shrank back, throwing me a smug, mocking smirk.

I stared at Gavin's face, the face I had been desperately, pathologically obsessed with for five long years. I felt a sudden wave of detachment.

Just seconds ago, that mechanical voice had vanished.

And with it, the submissive, pathetic personality I had been forced to play was finally gone.

Five seconds passed.

I stopped fighting.

The wild obsession and desperate love in my eyes receded like a pulling tide, leaving behind nothing but pure, blissful relief.

Gavin froze, caught off guard.

Taking advantage of his confusion, I yanked my arm back with a sharp, forceful twist.

As if his touch had left a layer of filth on my skin, I rubbed my wrist vigorously against my jeans.

Then, I walked over to the coffee table in the living room.

Lying right there was the divorce agreement Gavin had thrown in my face the night before.

At the time, I had wept hysterically, kneeling on the floor and begging him not to abandon me.

But now, a massive grin spread across my face. My steps toward the pen were light, almost bouncy with anticipation.

I signed my name and pressed my thumbprint onto the paper in one fluid motion.

Gavin stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What are you doing? Do you honestly think this reverse psychology is going to..."

I slammed the papers hard against his chest.

The force of the impact actually made him stumble back half a step.

"I signed it. I'll see you at city hall tomorrow."

I looked him dead in the eye, my voice crisp, clear, and ringing with absolute certainty. "If you back out of this, you're a dog."

With that, without giving his dumbfounded mistress a single glance, I threw my pre-packed bags over my shoulder and walked out of the villa, never looking back.

Once I was safely in the back of a taxi, my hands began to shake as I pulled out my phone.

I opened my banking app.

Logged in.

Checked the balance.

Hundreds, thousands, millions, tens of millions, hundreds of millions...

One billion.

One billion dollars, sitting in cold, hard cash.

I took a deep, shaky breath, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Five years ago, a bizarre system had bound itself to me.

It forced me into a marriage with Gavin, requiring me to play the part of a miserable, submissive wife.

The rules were strict: never strike back, never argue, and always show him unwavering, desperate devotion, no matter how much he humiliated or neglected me.

Worse still, to make the act convincing, the system had manipulated my hormone levels.

It made me genuinely, painfully love him.

For five years, I served him like a maid and trailed after him like a dog.

Whenever he stayed out all night, I suffered from excruciating insomnia.

Whenever he brought women home, my heart shattered, yet I could only beg him to spare me a single glance.

Thinking about it now, a familiar, sharp pang echoed in my chest.

I instinctively pressed a hand to my heart.

It was a residual, biological reflex, a lingering echo of the desperate attachment that had been hardwired into me for half a decade.

Was I seriously still feeling sad over that piece of trash?

I looked back down at my phone screen.

I counted the zeros again.

Still one billion dollars.

The suffocating tightness in my chest vanished instantly.

Gavin was wealthy, sure, but his company’s net worth was tied up in fixed assets and heavy liabilities.

If you asked him to produce one billion dollars in liquid cash right this second, he couldn't do it even if he sold himself.

I patted my chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of my heart, and let out a laugh.

Loving Gavin brought nothing but heartbreak.

But one billion dollars?

Money would never betray me.