Chapter 5 Buying The Lottery Ticket

• Pulling back the curtain, I feigned nonchalance as I stepped into the cramped lottery retailer.
• Subconsciously, my hands at my side clenched tightly, already slick with a thin layer of sweat.
• In my previous life, it was in this very shop that I bought the lottery ticket that won seventy million.
• On the day of the lottery draw, I was so thrilled that I couldn't sleep a wink all night.
• I had checked and rechecked the numbers countless times. They were engraved in my memory.
• Forcing a light tone, I recited the numbers to the owner.
• The owner, a kind middle-aged woman, carefully confirmed the information before promptly printing out the ticket and handing it to me.
• When I returned home after buying the ticket, the house was already empty.
• I didn't need to think much to know that they had all gone out for a meal together.
• The living room was a mess. Dirty laundry was strewn across the sofa, greasy breakfast plates were left carelessly on the table, and the floor was littered with toys mixed with smelly socks.
• This was my daily responsibility.
• At that moment, I ignored it all and went straight into the bedroom.
• I quickly moved my belongings into the spare room and created a small space that was just for me.
• Sleeping in the same bed as Roger disgusted me.
• After locking the door, I finally began living the life I had dreamed of for years.
• I watched my favorite shows while snacking, free from the incessant cries and chaos of the children and the endless chores.
• Simply being able to relax in my own little sanctuary felt like a luxury.
• I wasn't about to worry about those chores.
• This peaceful state lasted until midnight.
• Chattering and laughter at the door broke the silence, followed shortly by loud voices in the living room.
• Moments later, a man's roar echoed through the house.
• “Sienna!”
• I put down the bag of chips in my hand and strolled out of the room to ask what the matter was.
• In the living room, my son and my daughter clung tightly to Isabella like they were her own children.
• Roger stood amidst the chaos, his face dark as he stared at the mess in the house. “Sienna, what's the meaning of this?”
• I shrugged, unconcerned.
• “It's just a little messy. Tell Isabella to tidy up, won't you?”
• As soon as I said this, Isabella's eyes welled up with tears, and she silently bent down to start cleaning.
• Roger's face darkened further. He pulled Isabella to her feet and shielded her behind him.
• Turning back to me, he launched into yet another one of his endless tirades.
• “Why are you acting up? Isabella is frail, so you should cut her some slack instead of showing her attitude! Everything you eat, wear, and use comes from my money. Doing these chores is your duty! All you have to do is sweep the floor and watch the kids every day. How dare you complain about being tired?”
• I'd heard this same speech so many times before.
• In the past, his words always stirred guilt in me. I would back down and apologize.
• Looking back, it was all nonsense!
• My education and abilities were no worse than Roger's—if anything, they were better.
• When we first got married, he kept coaxing me to quit my job, saying he would support me.
• I initially refused, but after giving birth to our son, Roger kept pushing.
• He claimed he didn't feel comfortable with the kid not having a parent at home.
• His parents refused to help, insisting it was my responsibility.
• I had no choice, and I felt sorry for my son, so under their constant persuasion, I gave up my career and became a stay-at-home mother.
• At first, Roger was attentive and caring, but it didn't last. Soon, he became indifferent and even started humiliating me, intentionally or otherwise.
• When his company ran into trouble, I stopped asking him for money altogether, relying instead on my savings to keep the household running.
• I had given my all to this family and had a clear conscience.
• Standing before me, Roger finished his scolding, his expression smug and superior.
• I knew what he was waiting for.
• He expected me to apologize and meekly get to work cleaning up the mess.
• The moment I moved, his face showed confidence, as if he had me figured out.
• “Get on with it and clean this up quickly. If you hurry, I might be generous enough to let it slide this time.”
• I snorted, stepped forward briskly, and swung my arm.
• Slap!
• The crisp sound of palm meeting cheek echoed through the room.
• Roger clutched his face, his expression one of utter disbelief.
• I smiled sweetly.
• “Roger, if you want to talk, keep your voice down. I'm afraid of dogs.”