Chapter 9

Belated affection is worth less than grass.

I was once addicted to gaming, but only because Joy Valentine loved it.

She barely acknowledged me, even after we got engaged, rarely speaking more than a few words to me.

To get closer to her, I joined her in playing games.

Throughout our marriage, Joy never cooked a single meal for me.

On our anniversary, she never posted photos or mentioned me.

She probably didn’t want anyone to know she hadn’t married Felix Laurent.

Even on her social media, there were hardly any traces of me.

Now, she’s making a grand announcement, celebrating our long-expired anniversary.

Netizens wouldn’t let it go, flooding my comments with warnings—

“Don’t be foolish, man!”

“You believe this lie? You’re just setting yourself up to be cheated on!”

I immediately posted the divorce papers, tagging her directly—

“We’re divorced. Don’t bother me. And Ms. Valentine, I don’t celebrate with exes.”

Joy became a laughingstock.

She and Felix were nailed to the pillar of shame, despised by everyone.

Her parents occasionally invited me for dinner, claiming they’d made my favorite dishes.

But the table was full of seafood, none of which I could eat.

In their hearts, it was always Felix.

I replied uniformly, “No more dinners, and I don’t want the gaming console either.”

“Since we’re divorced, let’s not stay in touch.”

I thought Joy had some pride and would understand after this.

But to my surprise, she was waiting outside my apartment building after work.

I pretended not to see her and walked straight ahead.

She called out from behind, “Ryan Roland… can we talk?”

I didn’t turn around. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Suddenly, she grabbed my arm, her fingers trembling.

Her voice choked with tears, “Felix lied to me… his project collapsed, and I lost everything.”

I sneered, “So?”

Tears fell as she gripped me tighter—

“I mortgaged my parents’ house… the money’s gone.”

“My mom had a heart attack, and my dad’s in the hospital with a stroke…”

She sobbed, barely able to speak, “Can you… help me?”