Suffering His Love

Vincent Roberts arrived home just as I had hung up the phone.

Seconds later, there was a gentle knock at the door.

It was the housekeeper, Janice Simpson.

She said, "Mrs. Roberts, Mr. Robert is home."

Coming back to my senses, I stood up, wiped the tears from my face, and said, "Thank you."

As I was about to leave the room, she abruptly said, "Mrs. Roberts, Mr. Robert has..."

She stopped mid-sentence and offered me a sympathetic look.

I smiled at her but averted my eyes.

As expected, I heard a woman's unabashed, charming laughter when I opened the door of Vincent's room.

Based on the sounds they were making, I could tell that they were having sex.

Standing at the door, I observed the scattered clothes on the floor.

Some of the clothes belonged to Vincent, as he favored wearing suits to display his affluence and authority.

The rest of the clothes were a one-piece dress and black lace underwear, which exuded a seductive aura.

Vincent had a penchant for attractive, alluring women who could easily captivate men's attention.

Unfortunately, he found me uninteresting and lackluster, as I had nothing to offer apart from having a wealthy father- which at the time was not the case.

I quietly closed the door and waited outside the room. Two hours later, the sounds ceased, signaling the end of their romance.

Swiftly, I straightened my attire, approached the door, and gently knocked on the door.

Vincent's lazy voice said, "Come in."

I could sense that he was in high spirits.

As long as he didn't lay eyes on me, his mood remained pleasant.

However, I had to disrupt his joyous moment by entering the room.

The bedroom was in disarray, permeated with the scent of cigarettes.

Vincent lay on the bed, the sheets draped over his waist.

He held a beautiful woman with flowing hair. Her skin was delicate and her arms were slender. There was a vivid, lifelike green peafowl tattoo on her back.

Upon my entrance, she smiled as she placed a lit cigarette between Vincent's lips.

Vincent turned his head, squinting through the smoke, and stared at me coldly.

"Darling..." It was the first time in my existence that I sought help, and I had to beg Vincent. "I need your help. My father's company is facing some problems."

Vincent shut his eyes, offering no words in response.

The woman directed a disdainful gaze my way, her charming eyes revealing her contempt.

Undeterred, I pressed on, explaining, "My father requires a cash flow of five hundred million dollars. I know that you have the means to provide it. Of course, we will utilize your money and compensate you with interest... You know we don't go back on our words. Throughout the years, my family has treated you with utmost respect."

Despite the adversities that plagued Vincent's company and our subsequent marriage, my father consistently made efforts to help him.

"Get out!" Vincent spoke finally.

But I couldn't simply leave.

I persisted, pleading, "Darling, please. My father is currently in the hospital. If even you refuse to aid him, I..."

As I spoke, he abruptly grabbed the crystal ashtray from the bedside table and hurled it at me.

I was utterly taken aback. The ashtray narrowly missed my ear, producing a resounding crash as it collided with the door behind me.

I trembled, gazing at him in disbelief.

Vincent opened his eyes and looked at me with a blank expression.

"Get out!" he repeated.

I held my breath.

After a while, I clenched my teeth and sank to my knees.

"Darling..." I found myself uttering words I had never spoken before. "You know that over the past three years, I have never wronged you. I've refrained from making any demands or requests of you. We kindly ask for your help, and rest assured, we will promptly reimburse you for any funds. In the event of smooth company operations, we will expediently refund both the principal and the interest owed to you."