Poof! Wife Status, ERASED

Chapter 6: Donated to Charity

A man, towering over six feet, bowed his head in humility, pleading for her to say something, anything.

Sophia Roberts struggled to breathe in Ethan Vanderbilt's suffocating embrace. He seemed to love her so much—so much that anything to do with her made him paranoid.

She patted his back lightly. "No, I've just been really exhausted with all the work lately."

"Really?" His voice still held a trace of desperation, his tone cracking.

"Did someone upset you? Just say the word, and I'll make them regret it!"

Sophia shook her head. He immediately reached for her hand, his grip firm.

"Baby, if anyone hurts you, you have to tell me, okay? I've told you before—if anyone dares to bully you, I'll make sure they regret ever being born!"

Oh?

But the real pain she was feeling came from him—from Ethan Vanderbilt himself.

Her fingers brushed the tear stains on his jaw. A strange anticipation welled up inside her. What would he feel when he saw her "ashes"?

Would he grieve?

And then go on to continue his affair with Isabella Thompson at her funeral?

How selfish. Ethan.

From that moment on, Ethan came home on time every day, obediently making breakfast as though everything was back to normal.

But Sophia knew better.

His affair with Isabella never stopped. Almost every day, she received those disgusting photos—of them tangled together on the bed in the executive lounge, their moans echoing through the images.

[Today's theme is forbidden love~ Ethan was so rough, my voice is gone~]

[Ethan says I've gotten even more delicate lately, so today's roleplay was faux siblings~ Oh, and we didn't use the bed you picked—we did it on the sofa you designed~]

If it wasn't for the reminder, Sophia might have forgotten—Ethan's entire office was decorated to her taste. Every piece of furniture, every portrait, every detail was chosen by her.

Her heart twisted as though pierced by a thousand knives.

Childhood sweethearts? A loving marriage?

The memories she once held dear had turned into daggers, tearing her apart.

It hurt. It burned with hatred.

Gritting her teeth, Sophia forced herself to sit up, swallowing a handful of pills before packing her things.

It took the maids four days to sort through everything Ethan had given her over the years—the crystal heels he had gifted her when she was eighteen, the flawless ten-carat diamonds sent monthly, the dazzling collection of jewelry, bags, and more.

"Donate it all to charity."

The move caused an immediate uproar online.

Ethan stopped an international meeting and rushed home in a panic.

"Baby! Why did you donate everything I gave you?"

Sophia, tying her hair back, was caught off guard by his sudden return. She looked at him with indifference. He appeared disheveled—his tailored suit dust-streaked, his knuckles scraped and bloody, a sorry sight.

She lowered her gaze. "Is charity work… a bad thing?"

She understood the struggles of underprivileged girls fighting for a better future. She wouldn't let Isabella stop her from doing good.

Ethan breathed a sigh of relief, grateful she seemed unchanged. "No, of course not. But those things—they held our memories. I thought I did something wrong."

"Since that's not the case, donate as much as you want! If it's not enough, I'll open more accounts for you. I earn money to spoil my baby," he said, kissing her cheek tenderly.

Her recent behavior had been erratic, and Ethan had tried countless times to end the affair. But the thrill of infidelity was addictive, and he couldn't break free.

Besides, Sophia was his now, wasn't she?

He repeated that lie in his mind, sinking deeper into depravity.

As he wished, Sophia selected a tailored suit from the wardrobe, helping him change before they attended a charity gala together.

The striking couple quickly became the center of attention.

Amid the clinking glasses, Sophia was surrounded by socialites, exchanging pleasantries.

When the event ended, she scanned the room but couldn't find Ethan.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Then her phone buzzed.

Unlike before, the message was short. Just five words:

[Second-floor storage room.]