The Midnight Show That Ended with My Husband’s Affair Chapter 16

The Midnight Show That Ended with My Husband’s Affair Chapter 16 My Fairy-tale Wedding

Later, I heard about what happened to Spencer from my chief legal officer.

He spent a full month in the ICU, kept alive by ventilators and bypass machines.

Countless cardiac arrests. Countless critical condition notices.

Even the lead doctor marveled that he had cheated the Grim Reaper by a hair.

He survived. But he was already dead.

The day he was transferred to a regular ward happened to be the day of my fairy-tale wedding.

Flynn Dawson later described that day’s horror to my assistant, his eyes red.

That afternoon, in a centuries-old castle, wearing a haute couture wedding dress covered in diamonds, arm in arm with Preston Ashford, I walked slowly down an aisle carpeted with white roses, broadcast live to hundreds of top media outlets around the world.

Back in Fairhaven, in a hospital room, Spencer had just had his breathing tube removed.

He was a skeleton wrapped in skin. The hospital gown, once his size, hung loose on him.

He leaned against the raised hospital bed, ignoring the doctors’ protests, his eyes glued to the television on the wall.

On the screen, live from Paris, my wedding.

“Spencer, stop watching! Please, turn it off!”

Flynn, seeing Spencer’s convulsing body, ran over in panic to unplug the TV.

“Don’t touch it!”

Spencer shoved Flynn’s hand away. The violent motion made him cough up a mouthful of blood-streaked phlegm.

His once sharp, deep eyes were now a terrifying dead gray.

He stared at the screen. Watched Preston lift my veil tenderly.

Watched me smile at another man-a smile brighter than any he had ever seen.

Watched us exchange rings under the priest’s blessing and kiss deeply.

“She’s so beautiful… Flynn, did you see? My Lena… she looks so beautiful today…”

He pulled his cracked lips into a smile-a million times uglier than crying.

“But… the man standing beside her… isn’t me anymore…”

He gasped for air.

The day after watching the live, Spencer checked himself out of the hospital against the doctor’s stern warnings.

The first thing he did was summon the top law firm in the country.

“Get all of this notarized.”

Spencer sat in a wheelchair and tossed a thick stack of documents onto the table, his voice hoarse.

The lead lawyer opened the folder. When he saw what was inside, he broke out in a cold/sweat.

“You… you want to unconditionally and irrevocably transfer all of this to Mrs. Ashford?”

“Yes.” Spencer said coldly.

“But Professor Whitmore, if you transfer all of this away, you won’t have a single dollar left to your name! You’ll be truly penniless-”

“I said, all of it to her.”

Spencer cut him off impatiently.

“Do it. If a single dollar is missing, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

Half a month later, my European legal team received the notarized asset transfer.

“Mr. Whitmore has transferred every asset he owns to your name with an irrevocable agreement. He is now… essentially penniless,” my legal director reported respectfully.

I sat in my leather chair at headquarters. I didn’t even lift my eyelids.

“Noted.”

My voice was flat, without a ripple of emotion.

“Sell all the properties at a discount. Take the proceeds and all the other assets, and donate everything in my name to a European stray dog rescue foundation.”

I took his beloved billions and fed them to stray dogs.

Because in my eyes, anything he gave me was too dirty to look at.

Penniless, Spencer dragged his broken body back to the Fairhaven mansion where I had been trapped for seven years.

With his accounts empty, the utilities were soon cut off for nonpayment.

In early winter, the luxurious mansion became a cold, empty living tomb.

Spencer went completely mad.

He developed severe depression and psychosis.

He stopped eating, stopped drinking. He wandered all night in the dark.

He found a sledgehammer somewhere and walked into the study where he used to store his law books.

“I need to make a room for the baby… Lena said she likes pink and blue…”

Like a complete madman, Spencer swung the sledgehammer, smashing the bookshelves and the heavy legal tomes.

He gasped for breath. His old wounds tore open, blood seeping through his shirt. But he kept swinging.

He went to the dump and retrieved an old, broken crib. He wiped it clean with his own clothes.

He filled every corner of the room with cheap wind-up music boxes he’d bought at flea markets.

“Baby… Daddy fixed up a room for you… see, there are music boxes…”

Spencer curled up on the cold floor, winding each music box one by one.

“Lena… come home with the baby… I smashed the study… I’m not reading cases anymore… I’ll be with

you…”

He talked to the air. Crying and laughing.