“This isn’t about money. It’s a token, a promise among our grandfathers’ descendants.”
I tried to snatch it back, but Michael shoved me hard.
His face twisted with contempt.
“A promise? What bullshit promise?”
“You’ve got some nerve. Look at yourself—living in my mansion, wearing luxury brand clothes I bought, driving a luxury sports car worth millions. Tell me, which of those things didn’t come from me, Michael Reed?”
“One ring? Ten rings? A hundred? They wouldn’t even cover a fraction of what you’ve spent of mine. And you dare scream at me about what’s yours?”
His words stabbed me like knives.
Yes, I’d been a housewife these years, handling his affairs quietly, not working outside.
But I was thrifty, and all those things were what he had insisted on giving me—not what I demanded.
But now wasn’t the time to argue that.
I steadied myself, drawing a deep breath.
“Michael, you cheated first, and I’ll let that go for now. If you think all these material things are debts I owe you, fine. Take them. I don’t want them.”
“But this ring—I must take it back. Make her return it.”
My solemn tone stunned him.
Perhaps in our three years of marriage, I had never spoken to him so seriously before.