The Housewife’s Counterstrike Chapter 03
Herman’s ship docked five days later.
In the past, the run-up to his return had been the busiest time of my year.
I’d change the bed to the satin sheets he liked, stuff the fridge with the aged beef he preferred, lay out hangover remedies in advance.
Not this time. This time I simply sat in the study.
The lock turned as I was scanning the Marseille page of the manifest into my computer.
Herman pushed the door open.
He wore a dress shirt and slacks, a crisp black overcoat draped over his shoulders, a cigar in his right hand. On his ring finger was the Vance family ring.
Apart from a faint trace of sea salt, there wasn’t a single thing about him left that reminded me of the captain I had married.
His eyes went straight to the ledger on the desk, and narrowed dangerously.
“Selena, you’re investigating me?”
“Afraid of what I’d find?” I lifted my head and met his gaze.
He stubbed out the cigar and rubbed his temple, irritated.
“I’ve just come off the sea. You have to pick a fight with me now?”
“I’m looking at what I’m entitled to look at.”
Herman strode over and snatched the ledger from my hand.
“You do not touch the voyage ledger without my permission,” he said, displeased. “If our routes leak, could you afford the loss?”
My smile turned sharper.
“When you sent the supply ship on a detour to pick up diamonds for Clara, did you think about routes leaking?”
The words landed like a fist against his proud face.
Herman was silent for a moment, then dragged a chair over and sat down across from me.
“Selena, that jewelry isn’t what you think.”
“Then what is it?”
“Clara’s family did mine a great favor once. She’s been having a hard time these past few years. I only sent her a proper gift as compensation. That’s all.”
I looked at him. “You sent her the ocean of diamonds. What did you send me?”
His eyes flickered. His face was thick with impatience. “Must you compare vulgar things like that?”
I didn’t speak.
He rummaged in his black leather bag and tossed a cheap plastic bag onto the desk.
“For you.”
Inside was a magnetic refrigerator magnet. The sort of thing sold at any port souvenir stand.
The price sticker was still on the back. Two euros.
I looked at the two-euro magnet and put it back in the bag.
Herman’s face went dark.
“So now you’re not satisfied?”
“You think I should be?”
He tugged his collar open in irritation, exposing the strong, bronzed lines of his chest.
“Selena, you already know I’m Don of the Vance family. Why can’t you understand your place?”
“Clara grew up on ships. She’s ridden out storms. She knows the shipping trade, she knows the fishermen, she can handle a hundred kinds of trouble for me. And you?”
“You’ve lived in a hothouse. So go on being a delicate flower that doesn’t have to face the wind and rain. What’s the point of clinging to trivial things like this?!”
In his logic, an entire set of blue diamonds worth millions of dollars, given to another woman, was a *trivial thing.*
And our six years of marriage, the concealed identity, the offhand two-euro magnet—
—that was the *hothouse* the almighty Don had built for his wife.
He seemed to have forgotten that this house was mine. That he and I had never shared even one home together.
I took out my phone and pulled up the property registration for Downton Manor.
“You say she’s a business partner. Then why do you have permanent access rights through the main entrance?”
“Who authorized you to look into that?!” Herman snatched the phone from me.
When he flipped to the gallery and saw the backup records, his whole body went rigid.
“What exactly are you trying to do, Selena?”
I looked into his eyes and spoke each word clearly.
“I want a divorce.”
Herman went still.
A few seconds later, he began to laugh, low and quiet.
“Divorce? Selena, don’t threaten me with the tantrums of a little girl.”
He leaned forward, hands braced on the desk.
“After you divorce me, how are you going to survive?”
“You’ve been out of the working world too long. You don’t have a single marketable skill. Without my protection, you are nothing.”
I looked at him steadily.
“Herman. You have never understood what I hold in my hand.”
He gave a cold snort and slammed the phone back onto the desk. “You’ve been cooped up in this house too long. Your head’s gone soft. Get a grip on yourself.”
With that, he moved his things to the guest room.
At one o’clock in the morning, I walked barefoot across the cold floor.
The guest room door hadn’t been shut all the way. From inside came Herman’s lowered voice.
“Don’t worry. She’s just a woman who’s never seen the world. She can’t make waves. She’ll storm around a few days and it’ll blow over.”
“Keep the ocean set. Don’t return it. It was custom-made for you from the start.”
“My mother will put her in her place. She’d never really go through with a divorce.”
I stood in the dark hallway, listening in silence.
So to him, all my grief, all my humiliation, amounted to nothing more than a small matter.