Two years into our marriage, my wife said I was a bad influence and had me locked up in a "Discipline Center." During the year I was tortured, she spent every day by her old flame's side. When I got out, my heart was dead. I asked for a divorce. Just like she wanted, I set her free. But what she didn't know was that her precious old flame was only after her money. Without me, she’d be nothing. 1. I spent a whole year in that Discipline Center. The day I was released, I was in the laundry room, bleeding, still working, when one of the guards brought me the "good news." A guard bellowed my name from behind. I immediately dropped, covered my head, and shouted, "Number 33, here!" By the time the guard dragged me by the collar to his office, I was shaking uncontrollably. The second he let go, I hit the floor and started doing push-ups. The guard yanked me up. "Stop that. You're getting out." Tears burst from my eyes. I bowed low, thanking him over and over. Before I left, the guard told me, his voice heavy, "We offered to let you out early if an extra six million was paid." "But your wife refused. She even transferred another five million to us, telling us to intensify your 'training.' Don't blame us…" His words hung in the air as I was changing. My hand froze mid-button. But I didn't dare hesitate. Hesitation meant severe punishment. Every form of punishment in that place made me feel like I was staring death in the face. When I got out, Chloe wasn't there. The housekeeper told me Chloe had arranged a welcome-home dinner. I called Chloe. Her familiar, impatient voice crackled through the phone. "The usual spot. Hurry up." Then, a man's voice, one I knew all too well – Liam, Chloe's old flame. "So, the wimp is out. We'll have to make him drink a few extra tonight." Chloe hung up before I could even say "okay." Her usual bossy attitude plunged my heart into a frozen silence. After all this time, a year in that hellhole, and Liam was still the one by her side. I wasn't surprised. Liam’s place in Chloe’s heart was untouchable. Ever since Liam divorced and came back three years ago, all he had to do was crook his finger, and Chloe would drop everything and run to him. Liam was built, always whispering in Chloe’s ear how a strong gust of wind could blow my scrawny self away. That's where "wimp" came from. Chloe, instead of stopping him, would chime in, "He really does. He doesn't make me feel protected at all." In the car, the butler kindly handed me a cup of warm water. It was an old habit of mine; I liked to drink tea, warm, year-round. I took two sips. My nose stung, and my eyes welled up. A cup of warm water might not seem like much, but I hadn't had a single sip of warm water for an entire year in that Center. Through all four seasons there, they not only rationed our water but only gave us ice-cold water. When I first got there, I asked a guard for some warm water. They threw me into a damp, cold isolation cell for two whole days and nights. We had daily labor quotas. In the dead of winter, we had to wash the guards' clothes. Every single stain had to be scrubbed out, or you'd get a beating in solitary. My hands became raw and infected countless times, but no one treated them. In the Discipline Center, you weren't allowed medical attention unless you were on your last breath. When I was first beaten so badly my whole body was a mess of open wounds, I lay on the floor, in so much pain I was paralyzed, begging the guard to call a doctor. He just sneered, kicked me a couple of times, and asked, "Do you think you deserve it?" Dignity was a luxury there. No matter how much the guards cursed at you, you had to take it. We were treated like livestock, no days off, all year round. Every day, from 6:30 AM to 11:00 PM, we worked. The guards graded us daily. If you got a 'D,' there was no dinner that night. You'd also be taken to the punishment room. Minor offenses meant whipping or caning; major ones meant electric shocks or other brutal forms of discipline. What went on in the Discipline Center was the complete opposite of what they advertised. Watching the steam rise from the cup, my eyes reddened again, an involuntary reaction. I remembered the smell of my own burnt flesh after they’d used the electric prods on me. A few times, I’d questioned the guards’ "professionalism" when my day’s work was rated ‘D’. Without a word, they’d drag me to the punishment room. High-voltage current shot through my body, my brain instantly shutting down, leaving me in a puddle of my own waste. But the acrid smell of burnt skin filled my nostrils. The guard, eyes bloodshot, would grab my chin and hiss, "Next time, will you dare?" By then, my body would be numb, unable to force a single word past my lips. But to them, that just meant I was a born troublemaker. They’d strap me to the chair again, replaying the whole ordeal. They wouldn’t stop until I passed out. The guards’ vicious words echoed in my mind, making me shudder violently. The butler, startled, asked, "Sir, am I driving too fast?" I shook my head. "No, it was my fault." I had to force myself to sit upright, away from the seatback, because my back was covered in wounds. 2. Every time the car braked, my back would inevitably touch the seat, even if just a little. Soon, large beads of sweat were forming on my forehead. The butler kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror, eventually apologizing again. "Sir, has my driving gotten worse?" he asked, his face etched with worry. I had to straighten my spine again, forcing a smile. "It's not you." He'd been with me for years; he knew my habits. I used to always recline the seat, half-lying down. My back was a mess of new and old injuries, barely a patch of undamaged skin. The lashing I’d received a few days ago had already started to fester. When I left the Discipline Center, the guards confiscated all my light-colored clothes. After picking through everything, they only gave me this black shirt. I knew black would hide all the marks on my body. As long as I was out, they figured, it was no longer their problem. The thought made me tremble uncontrollably. "We punish you to make you learn your lesson." "From now on, your wife's word is law." I clutched the hem of my shirt, trying to calm myself. "Punishment is to make you remember. You are not to argue when your wife gives an order." The image of guards whipping me with leather straps dipped in chili water flashed in my mind. Every night in the Discipline Center, screams echoed through the halls. Whipping was the most common punishment. Each time, I’d bite my lip until I tasted blood to keep from crying out. If you made a sound, the guards would double the punishment. One round of whipping could take half your life; I really didn't want to go through it again. After being punished, you had to crouch in a corner, enduring the full-body pain, and "reflect." You couldn't leave until a guard gave you permission. If a guard thought your wounds needed disinfecting, they’d toss you a plastic bag. Inside were basic disinfectant supplies. You’d have to squat in a dark, damp basement, gritting your teeth, tears streaming down your face, and tend to your wounds yourself. 3. The nightmarish memories came to an abrupt halt when the butler announced, "We're here." "The usual spot" was a restaurant Chloe had invested in for Liam. After Liam's divorce, Chloe, feeling sorry for him, bought the restaurant outright and gave it to him as a birthday present. As I approached Private Room 999, the door was slightly ajar. Laughter spilled out even before I opened it. Chloe was leaning on Liam's shoulder, smiling, acting cute. Her face was flushed. It struck me then: they were the ones who looked like a couple. Liam caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye. He squeezed Chloe's cheek. "Haven't seen him in a year. Miss him?" Chloe buried her head in Liam's arm. "Don't you know if I miss him or not?" With that, I pushed the door open and chose a seat furthest from Chloe. "Long time no see," I said quietly. When Chloe looked at me, she couldn't hide the disgust in her expression. "We spent so much money sending you to learn some manners," she said, her face full of displeasure, her disdainful gaze undisguised. "I don't see any improvement at all." "You look like a mess. Couldn't you at least wash your face and tidy up before coming in?" I lowered my head, wiped my cheek, and mumbled, "My apologies. I wasn't thinking." As soon as I said it, both Liam and Chloe stared at me, their eyes wide, looking me up and down. It made my skin crawl. "What is it?" I asked, confused. Chloe whispered in Liam's ear, "See? The money wasn't a complete waste. Look at his attitude now, it's a night and day difference." Before the Discipline Center, I used to argue with Chloe frequently because of Liam. Chloe always said I had a bad temper, that I wouldn't yield an inch. Liam looked at me with a smirk. "Of course, it had to have an effect. Can't let all that money go to waste." I thought about last New Year's, six months ago. The guards said they could bend the rules, give us a chance to contact our families. If our families were willing to pay two million, they’d release us early, against the contract. I immediately called Chloe. But all I heard on the other end was Chloe's panting. And Liam saying, "Chloe, you're so tight…" Before I could finish speaking, she hung up. I lost my only chance to contact the outside world. Seeing me eating by myself, not saying a word. I don't know if Liam wanted to test my "re-education," but he leaned back in his chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and cupped Chloe's face, kissing her deeply. When I showed no reaction, Liam did it again. My gaze dropped to the strawberry juice in front of me. I’ve been allergic to strawberries my whole life. When I was a kid, I accidentally ate two strawberries, and my heart stopped. I was rushed to the hospital and nearly died. Chloe and I had been married for so long. She remembered all of Liam’s preferences, but not mine. Faced with a normal meal after so long, I just ate, ignoring the scene across the table. Chloe gradually grew angrier. "Alex Sterling," she snapped, "haven't you ever had a full meal in your life? Look at yourself, you're disgusting." I didn't care about her ridicule. I kept eating. The day Chloe had me dragged to the Discipline Center, my heart had already shattered into a million pieces. Now, I just wanted to live. 5. After I’d eaten my fill, I headed straight for the butler's car. Surprisingly, Chloe walked over to my car, motioning for me to wait. She pulled a document out of her bag and handed it to me. "Liam wants to partner with you on that land parcel in the West End. Sign the contract." During the year I was gone, Chloe made all the company decisions. But now that I was back, her word didn't carry as much weight. Seeing I hadn't taken the contract, Chloe glared at me. "Hurry up." Her eyes were a warning: if I didn't listen to her, she'd send me back to the Discipline Center. But she didn't know that while I was in the restroom at the restaurant, I’d called my friend, Leo Maxwell. He's a top lawyer in the country. I remember before we graduated college, he joked, "If you ever get divorced, call me. I'll give you half price." At the time, I told him firmly, "That day will never come." I never thought it would come true. I refused Chloe and told the butler to drive off, leaving her standing there. The next morning, Chloe came home looking exhausted. The moment she walked in, she yelled, "Alex! Come change my shoes." Chloe was a clean freak. Every time she came home, she had to change from head to toe. And when she was in a bad mood, she liked to order me around. Before, I was afraid of upsetting her, so I did whatever she wanted. But now, I wasn't willing anymore. I rubbed my sleepy eyes and slowly walked downstairs. Seeing how slow I was, Chloe got so angry she threw her bag at my face. "Alex, are you doing this on purpose? Can't you hear me when I talk to you?" "You just got back and you're already this useless. It's disgusting to look at you." I stared at the pink mark on Chloe's neck, lost in thought. Chloe quickly adjusted her collar. "It's a mosquito bite." "You know I have sensitive skin; this happens all the time." Thinking back, over the past three years, these kinds of marks had appeared on Chloe's neck or chest quite a few times. I’d asked her about them several times, and her answer was always mosquito bites. Twice, it was in the dead of winter. I racked my brain but couldn't figure out what kind of mosquito it could be. I slowly sat down and pulled out the divorce papers from under the coffee table. Leo was fast. He’d contacted me in the middle of the night to say the divorce agreement was ready. Chloe's face was a mask of shock. "What is the meaning of this?" "I just asked you to give Liam a little piece of the pie, and this is how you react?" Then, furious, she ripped the divorce papers to shreds. I looked at her, my face cold. "Divorcing you is something I've thought long and hard about." Chloe laughed. "Long and hard? Have you lost your mind?" "You know what you promised me!" When I proposed to Chloe, I did promise her that it would be just the two of us, for life, and that I would love her forever. But loving her forever didn't mean I could accept her cheating. She crossed her arms, calm and composed, as if she was certain I wouldn't really divorce her. Just then, the doorbell rang. Liam appeared at my door, with a neck half-covered in hickeys.
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