Trapped in a Marriage Fueled by Revenge

I walked away from Clive King when he loved me the most.

Now that he was successful, he was doing everything in his power to bring me back.

People say I was his first love—the one he loved the most.

But he has had countless lovers, flaunting them in front of me just to humiliate me. He swore he’d make me suffer for the rest of my life.

What he didn't know was that I’m dying.

I had already picked out my burial plot when I got his call.

"Clive, I’m dying."

There was silence at first, then his voice soon came through, sharp and seething.

"Courtney, you belong to me. Even in death, you need my permission. You have ten minutes—come here and shoot the scene."

I was exhausted, but at least the doctor said I had three months left. Then I’d finally be free.

——

When I arrived at the TV station, Clive looked at me with open disdain before shoving me into the dressing room and leaving without another word.

"Mrs. King, I’m Vania Heath, your makeup artist. The only part left to film is the promotional shoot with Mr. King."

"Hold on, Vania, my foundation looks patchy. Can you fix it?"

The voice was sweet and innocent—a newcomer named Tamara Macgee.

When our eyes met, she arched a delicate brow with a smug expression, giving me a once-over. Her makeup was flawless.

Quickly, realization dawned on me. She was Clive’s latest fling.

Vania hesitated for a moment but eventually gave in and walked over to her.

"Vania, people say I look like Mrs. King. That’s why NeoXtreme hired me as their game ambassador. What do you think? Do I look like her? Look at her—sallow skin, bony frame. She looks half-dead. How could she compare, right? Clearly, I’m way prettier than her," Tamara scoffed, smirking.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. Dark circles, a pale, sickly complexion, and an oversized sweater hanging off my thin frame.

She wasn’t wrong. I did look like I was dying.

"Tamara, she’s still the boss’s wife. Watch your words—she might complain us to him," her assistant warned, but the mockery in her tone was obvious.

"What’s there to be afraid of? She’d need Clive to actually care before she could complain. Besides, he hasn’t been home in two months," Tamara confidently replied and tilted her chin, exuding the confidence of a winner.

It made me realize that Clive really did treat her differently.

Before, no matter how many women he paraded around, they were just tools to provoke me, ways to test my reaction. He never kept them around for long—one week at most.

But Tamara? She was different.

In just two months, she had gone from an unknown rookie to an up-and-coming star. Magazine covers, brand endorsements, packed schedules—all of those were brought by Clive’s influence.

"Miss Courtney, the boss got you some drinks! He said you looked pale and thought you’d want something warm," Trina Shorts, Clive's secretary, called out cheerfully as she entered the room.

Seeing that, Tamara’s face stiffened, turning a shade of irritated red. The others lowered their heads, suppressing their laughter.

I gave Trina a grateful smile. "Thank you."

It was my favorite—white hot chocolate.

Lately, chemotherapy had left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I had been craving something sweet.

But just as I was about to take a sip, a strong hand snatched it away.

"When did I say this was for you?" Clive coldly roared, then turned to Tamara. "Tamara, I didn’t know which variation you liked, so I bought all of them for you."

He then looked back at me, waiting—no, savoring—my reaction.

"Really? Thank you, Clive!" Tamara beamed, kissing him on the cheek, the exaggerated smack echoing through the room.

She then smiled, showing her barely visible dimples and making her eyes curve just like mine used to when I was younger.

Chapter 2

Courtney's POV

"Sorry, Courtney, turns out this chocolate drink is actually mine."

Tamara walked over, holding the drink I had just lost. Her smug smile stretched across her face.

"But if you really want it, I can ask Clive to let you have a sip. You don’t mind, do you, Clive?"

The heavy scent of her perfume was suffocating, making my chest tighten.

I pressed a hand against my chest and tried to get out, but she stepped in my way.

I moved to walk around her, but she suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward her. The next second, her face twisted in shock, and she let out a dramatic gasp before falling backward.

"Courtney! How could you push her?" Clive roared, but I ignored the chaos behind me and hurried out, covering my mouth.

By the time I finished throwing up and slumped weakly against the toilet, my phone buzzed with an angry message from Trina.

[Trina: Tamara's really unbelievable. Her hand is just a little red, but she’s clinging to the boss and urging him take her to the hospital.]

Then, as if realizing I might be upset, she unsent the message.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

I had already promised myself—I wouldn’t get angry over him again.

I just needed to live out the rest of my days in peace.

Two months ago, when Clive disappeared from my life, I started getting frequent nosebleeds. Then a hospital visit confirmed the worst. The doctor told me I might not make it through the winter.

For a moment, I froze. Then I accepted it later.

I only felt one regret though—if only I could hold on until spring, I’d get to see the flowers bloom.

"Miss Russell, have you informed your family?" the doctor asked me, pulling me back to reality.

"I only have a cat, Doc. No family. Can I… just not go through the treatment?"

The doctor paused and looked at me with quiet sympathy. Then, he soon offered, "There’s a new imported drug. It’s better at managing the pain, but the side effects might cause weight gain and skin changes. It won’t be very… flattering. Do you want it?"

I shook my head lightly. "No, thanks."

I wasn’t afraid of dying. I was afraid of becoming ugly. Afraid that one day, if Clive ever thought of me, the image in his mind would be a bloated, unattractive woman.

Not that it mattered. He didn’t even need to see my face anymore. There were plenty of women who looked just like me—ones with my nose, my eyes, even my silhouette. He would always have a younger version of "me" by his side.

I forced a small laugh, trying to comfort myself. But my cheeks felt warm.

Ugh. Even my tear glands were failing me now.

Suddenly, a message popped up on my phone.

[Miss Russell, we have received your deposit for the burial plot. Please complete the remaining balance within seven days.]

[Got it.]

After replying, I checked my account, only to see it was not enough. I’d have to ask Clive for money again.

He hated me for being a gold-digger. Hated me for deceiving him.

But he had never once hesitated to give me money whenever I asked. Except this time—because of Tamara.

That night, I took the sleeping pills the doctor prescribed, finally drifting into much-needed rest. Then my phone rang.

"Courtney, get to Royal Court, Room 1088. Now."

I glanced at the time and it was just 1:00 AM.

"Are you insane? Do you even know what time it is?"

"Courtney, please come! Clive is drunk—he’s crying and calling your name!"

"...Clive, you're bleeding!"

The call ended in a burst of chaos. When I tried calling back, it wouldn’t go through.

Panic clawed at my chest. I threw on my coat, rushed downstairs, and begged the driver to run several red lights.

By the time I arrived, I was breathless, my heart pounding. I shoved open the private lounge door and there he was—completely unharmed.

Clive smirked and raised his glass in a silent toast before downing it in one go.

Cheers then erupted behind him, drowning out the sound of my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Clive, she really came! Hahaha!"

Chapter 3

Courtney's POV

“She actually fell for it! Even when he’s drunk, he only ever calls for Tamara. She really loves giving herself too much credit.”

“She dumped you first, and you only married her to humiliate her for revenge. And now she actually thinks you love her? How dumb can she be?”

A loud ringing filled my ears. My head spun with anger and humiliation.

I lifted my hand to slap Clive. But before I could, he caught my wrist and flung me onto the couch.

"How does it feel?" He sneered. "Being played like a fool?"

I turned my face away, refusing to answer.

"I called you here tonight to apologize to Tamara."

After Clive said that, Tamara stepped forward from the shadows. He pulled her into his arms without hesitation and kissed her in front of everyone like no one else existed.

The room then erupted with cheers, whistles, and congratulations. Their voices were deafening.

A wave of nausea hit me and my vision blurred. My ears also rang so loudly that it drowned out everything else.

Grabbing my bag, I turned and rushed toward the door—only to be blocked by their towering figures. I struggled for a moment, then I lost my balance and crashed to the floor, sending pain through my ankle.

As such, my wig fell off, revealing the short, uneven stubble underneath.

The room immediately fell silent afterward. For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then, slowly, Clive started clapping as he walked toward me, his face twisted in mockery.

"Wow, Courtney. Another performance? What is it this time? Cancer?"

Tamara let out a sharp laugh, then using a pen, she picked up my fallen wig like it was something disgusting and tossed it into the trash.

"Courtney, if you’re going to fake it, at least commit. What, too scared to shave your whole head?"

"Right? Your face is even redder than mine! What a waste of talent—you should’ve been an actress!"

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

"Alright, enough," Clive cut in, his voice laced with amusement. "Courtney, just apologize to Tamara, and we’ll drop this whole thing."

I scoffed. "And why the hell should I apologize?"

His arm tightened around Tamara, pulling her closer as he looked down at me.

"Because you hurt her, you idiot!"

I let out a cold laugh. "So what if I did? She deserves it for being a third party."

Tamara flinched, her eyes widening. Tears then spilled down her face as she suddenly shouted, "Yes! Yes, I deserve it! I fell in love with someone I shouldn’t have! I deserve to be hated, to be insulted! But the real third party is the one who's not being loved! I’m just fighting for what’s mine!"

She wept like a tragic heroine, her voice strong and unwavering despite the absurdity of her words.

And Clive—he actually looked moved.

Gently, he wiped away her tears with his fingers and consoled her, saying, "Alright, alright. Don’t cry. You look like a lost kitten."

He was different now.

I lowered my gaze, too exhausted to care. I just wanted to leave. But before I could do so, Clive spoke.

"Courtney, didn’t you say earlier that you needed money? How much is it? Five hundred thousand? I’ll transfer it right now if you apologize to Tamara."

In the past, I never had to ask twice. He never questioned me, never hesitated—just gave it to me.

But now, for Tamara, he made me beg.

"Clive," I said quietly. "Do you even know what I need the money for?"

He hesitated. Then, with an indifferent smirk, he shrugged. "Does it matter?"

I wiped my face, forcing myself to stand despite the pain in my body. Without another word, I walked out.

I didn’t want his money anymore. But I did wonder if one day he found out that the money he refused to give me could have helped me suffer a little less while I was still alive but didn't do so, how would he feel then?

"Hello, I’d like to cancel my burial plot."

"Miss Russell? Have you recovered? Congratulations!"

My eyes burned.

I set my phone down and collapsed onto the couch.

And just like that, I fell asleep.

Chapter 4

Courtney's POV

My three-year-old cat, Dash, nuzzled against my hand, waking me up.

I stroked his fur gently and sighed. “Dash, what will you do when I’m gone? Do you think Clive will take care of you?”

“Meow.”

He rubbed his head against my palm as if trying to reassure me.

Then the door suddenly swung open. The sound of high heels echoed against the floor as Tamara strutted in, her oversized dog trotting beside her.

“This is my home,” I said coldly. “Get out.”

But she only took off her sunglasses and gave me a sideways glance filled with amusement. “Not for long,” she said, smirking. “It’ll be mine soon enough. Buster, go explore.”

With a flick of her wrist, she let go of the leash. The massive dog dashed around the room, sniffing and knocking things over in excitement.

“Tamara, leash your dog!” I snapped. “My cat’s getting anxious!”

She scoffed. “Like owner, like pet. Both ugly and deserve to die.” Then she flicked her fingers. “Buster, go.”

Buster’s ears perked up before he turned toward us, teeth bared.

Dash shrank against me, trembling.

Panic surged through me as the dog lunged. I flailed my arms, trying to block him, but he was too strong, too fast.

Then, when the dog was about to bite me, Dash swiftly launched himself from my arms with a sharp yowl, slamming straight into Buster.

“No! Tamara, call off your dog!” I screamed, desperate. “Please, I’m begging you!”

Dash fought fiercely, but he was too small. Buster pinned him down and bit Dash brutally.

I tried to pry the dog off, but I wasn’t strong enough. So I could only desperately begged Tamara to do it. But she just stood there, frozen, watching in shock.

“Buster, stop!” Clive’s voice suddenly cut through the chaos.

In a blur, he rushed forward, grabbing Buster’s collar and yanking him back. The dog let out a yelp as he was pulled away.

Meanwhile, Dash collapsed onto the floor, his tiny body trembling, his breathing shallow. Deep, bloody gashes marred his once-soft fur.

He looked at me weakly and let out a faint meow as if saying, 'Mom, I protected you.'

Tears streamed down my face.

“Dash, stay with me,” I choked out. “You’re all I have left. I’ll take you to a vet, okay? Just hold on.”

I scooped him up and bolted out the door, racing to the animal hospital down the street.

"Dash, everything will be fine."

But God was so cruel.

I had already given up on my own treatment. Was that not enough? Why did He have to take Dash, too?

“Courtney. What happened to Dash?”

As soon as I heard Clive's voice, I turned to him, rage surging through me. Without thinking, I slapped him across the face.

“Dash is dead,” I spat, my voice shaking. “He died protecting me.”

He stood there, stunned, and for the first time, he seemed shaken upon seeing much hatred in my eyes. His gaze then shifted to the lifeless body on the table.

But to my surprise, he replied, “It’s just a cat. You can get another one.”

Something inside me snapped upon hearing that. I lunged at him and pounded my fists against his chest. Even so, he didn’t fight back, he just kept stepping backward under the force of my blows.

“Clive, Dash wasn’t just a cat!” I sobbed, my voice breaking, “He was the only kitten of the cat we secretly raised at the orphanage.”

After that, I collapsed onto the floor with tears blurring my vision.

Just then, Tamara stormed in and cried dramatically, “Clive, I swear, I didn’t mean to!”

She was wailing like she’d lost something precious.

“I—I didn’t know! Courtney called me over, I thought she wanted to apologize! I had no idea this would happen—”

She then buried her face in his chest, making her sobs muffled.

I stared at her in disbelief. “You're still lying?”

Fury burned in my veins. I grabbed the nearest thing—an animal headband from the vet’s counter—and hurled it at her.

She shrieked and ducked, cowering behind Clive.

“Clive, save me!” she whimpered.

She looked up at me with wide, tear-filled eyes. “It was just a cat! I’ll buy you a new one!”

I turned and my gaze fell on Dash’s still, lifeless body. Then a buzzing filled my ears and I screamed like crazy.

"That was my Dash! Not just any cat—he was my only family!"

Fury surged through me as I raised my hand, but Clive caught my wrist before I could strike. My vision blurred with tears, my nose stung, and before I knew it, I was crying so hard that laughter slipped through.

"Clive, I'm already dying. Are you still going to keep pushing me?"

His pupils shrank for a moment, but he quickly masked his emotions, his expression turning cold.

"Courtney, stop crying. I won’t feel sorry for you anymore."

Just then, something dripped. When I looked down, I saw that it was blood. I was having a nosebleed, staining the back of his hand like a small, blooming flower.

This time, it was worse than before.

My legs buckled. The world around me spun. Then, everything went black.

Fortunately, Clive quickly shoved Tamara aside and caught me in time.

"Doctor! Someone, help!" he shouted panicky.

His face turned red, his eyes wide with desperation, but he could do nothing as the blood kept flowing. He tried to wipe it away, but it was useless. In no time, his white shirt turned crimson.