When an Engineer Divorces a Traitor

When an Engineer Divorces a Traitor

Fumo Baobao

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I tried to breathe, trapped in the gilded cage of 1900s New York, a silent observer overshadowed by my brilliant sister Bea. My marriage to Arthur Pendleton, the influential industrialist, was supposed to be a safe harbor, a quiet escape from the era' s suffocating expectations. But then, an anonymous letter slipped under my door, revealing his carefully hidden life: a mistress, Daisy Miller, and a secret son residing in Greenwich Village. When I confronted him, Arthur didn't flinch; he simply suggested I, his wife, discreetly "manage" his affair and illegitimate child, appealing to my "renowned compassion." The audacity, the utter disgust of becoming the caretaker for his betrayal, stole my breath and shattered every illusion of our life. My humiliation was complete as Daisy Miller herself appeared, heavily pregnant again, desperate and blaming me for Arthur' s sudden abandonment. His pleas for me to accommodate his expanding secret brood, his appeal to my "compassion," were the final insult to my intelligence. How could the man who pledged lifelong fidelity demand such a monstrous thing, expecting me to legitimize his lies? But then, Bea, my whirlwind sister, uttered a single word – "Google" – and the silent understanding between us, our shared 21st-century secret, finally broke through. In that earth-shattering moment, the quiet engineer in me awakened; I would no longer be a doormat or a tragic victim of this strange, old world. I crushed the diamond necklace he gave me, a symbol of his worthless promises, and vowed to use every bit of my future knowledge to not just leave Arthur, but to utterly destroy him.

Introduction

I tried to breathe, trapped in the gilded cage of 1900s New York, a silent observer overshadowed by my brilliant sister Bea.

My marriage to Arthur Pendleton, the influential industrialist, was supposed to be a safe harbor, a quiet escape from the era' s suffocating expectations.

But then, an anonymous letter slipped under my door, revealing his carefully hidden life: a mistress, Daisy Miller, and a secret son residing in Greenwich Village.

When I confronted him, Arthur didn't flinch; he simply suggested I, his wife, discreetly "manage" his affair and illegitimate child, appealing to my "renowned compassion."

The audacity, the utter disgust of becoming the caretaker for his betrayal, stole my breath and shattered every illusion of our life.

My humiliation was complete as Daisy Miller herself appeared, heavily pregnant again, desperate and blaming me for Arthur' s sudden abandonment.

His pleas for me to accommodate his expanding secret brood, his appeal to my "compassion," were the final insult to my intelligence.

How could the man who pledged lifelong fidelity demand such a monstrous thing, expecting me to legitimize his lies?

But then, Bea, my whirlwind sister, uttered a single word – "Google" – and the silent understanding between us, our shared 21st-century secret, finally broke through.

In that earth-shattering moment, the quiet engineer in me awakened; I would no longer be a doormat or a tragic victim of this strange, old world.

I crushed the diamond necklace he gave me, a symbol of his worthless promises, and vowed to use every bit of my future knowledge to not just leave Arthur, but to utterly destroy him.

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