Nathan opened his mouth, but no words came. He felt like the floor had dropped from beneath his feet.
"And if we really add up everything," her mother continued, ticking her fingers, "the food you ate, the clothes you wore, the car you drive—it's all from this family's pocket. What exactly have you given back, Nathan?"
He turned his head toward Sara again, hoping—just hoping—she would say something, anything. That she would defend him. But she didn't. She didn't even look at him.
She just stood there.
Silent.
Letting them tear him down.
"I tried," Nathan whispered, his voice breaking. "I gave this family all I had. I trained, I fought. I wanted to prove myself… I never meant to become a burden."
"You're missing the point," Sara's sister snapped. "This isn't about trying anymore. This is about responsibility. You've failed over and over again. We're done picking up the pieces."
"My sister deserves better. Someone like Richard," she added with a smirk. "Someone successful, respected… a real champion."
Nathan's heart clenched at the sound of that name.
Richard.
Sara's childhood friend.
A world champion.
A billionaire born into luxury and crowned by victory.
He felt like a wounded animal surrounded by wolves.
"You all know I'm trying my best," Nathan said quietly. "You know I've worked hard—every day. Just trying to make something of myself. For Sara. For all of you."
"Trying isn't enough anymore," her sister said sharply. "My sister is tired. She's done. She needs to move on."
Sara's mother stepped closer, pointing her finger in his face.
"You owe us $50,000, Nathan," she said coldly. "And you will repay it. Whether by working for us, selling everything you own, or finding some other way—we don't care. But you will pay it back."
"Mom, let him sign the divorce papers first," Sara's sister said calmly. "Then we'll deal with the money."
Nathan felt his knees weaken as he looked at the papers in his hands.
Nathan blinked, struggling to process her words. "A thousand? Every day?" he repeated, almost choking on the number.
"$500 a day, minimum!" she snapped. "Don't come back here if you can't even manage that!"
"I—what?" Nathan began, but Sara's mother didn't give him a chance.
"No more excuses, Nathan!" she barked. "Go out and start driving that cab!f we have that amount we will save the company, you are one reason my late husband's company ran into debt!"she says.
Amy, Sara's sister, crossed her arms and stepped forward with a smirk. "And as for your things? They've been moved to the guest house. That's where you'll stay until you pay us back—completely."
Nathan clenched his fists, his jaw tight. Anger swelled in his chest, hot and heavy.He was angry at himself for being a stupid man, he had given up everything—everything—for this family. His mother's house, her cars, even the huge money she left behind for him. And now? He was being treated like a servant. No—worse. Like a stain they were desperate to wash away.
He remembered when he used to be the pride of his in laws family. The golden son-in-law. The man who had "rescued" their crumbling business from ruin. Sara's mother used to call him her "blessing." Amy once bragged about having the best brother-in-law in the world. Now they barely looked at him without sneering.
Everything started to change the moment Richard Whitefield came back. Sara's childhood friend. A billionaire by birth and one of the most famous boxers of all time. The moment Richard reappeared, Nathan could feel it—the admiration in Sara's eyes began to fade. The warmth turned to coldness. And today, she'd watched him sign the divorce papers without flinching.
He could still hear the whispers from earlier.
"You've overstayed your welcome," Amy had said.
"Sara deserves better," her mother added.
Nathan turned and walked away slowly, the weight of his past dragging behind him like chains. He crossed into the backyard, sat under the tree near the fence, and let the tears fall. He imagined his daughter coming home from school, running toward the house, then find out her mother had listened to her family to divorce him and now he has been reduced to a cab driver and now stay in the stay in the workers quater's .
Seven years ago, things were different.
He met Sara when he was a senior in high school and she was a freshman. Their connection had been instant, something real in a world that was already falling apart for Nathan because his mom was dying.
That same year, his mother died. The woman who had planned every step of his future died, leaving behind a house, two cars, and a sizable fixed deposit from her divorce settlement with Nathan's estranged father.
He was only eighteen at the time, and couldn't touch the money until he turned twenty-one. But the comfort was there—it was something his mother had left just for him. A safety future.
Then, a year later, Sara's father died.
And with his death came the shocking truth: the company he left behind was drowning in debt. Sara was broken, scared, and desperate. Nathan hated seeing her that way.
Sara couldn't concentrate anymore in school, she was always crying.
Nathan noticed and asked what was wronged and she explained to him.
"I don't know what to do," she had whispered with tears in her eyes. "We might lose everything, Nathan. The house. The company. Dad left a huge debt we didn't even have any idea of."
That's when Nathan told her about the fixed deposit, and about his inheritance.
" My mom left me a huge amount of money fixed for me but I am still eighteen and I can only have it when I am twenty one,"
"It's three years away," she had said sadly. "By then, the company will be gone."
He became worried that Sara will never be happy because her happiness is his joy and peace.
He then asked her, " What if we pay part of the debt , would the bank let the company be for another three years?
" I don't know," she replied. " Maybe I should ask mom," she says to him.
Sara had quickly called her mom and her mom promised to call back.
Her mom called back and tell them if they can make part of the debt, they will let them have the company for the next three years.
Then he sold his mother's house. Her cars. Every memory. Every piece of her. And with that money, he paid off enough of the family's debt to buy them three more years of time with the bank.
That's when Sara's mother suggested they marry. And Nathan, young and in love, agreed. He moved into the Sara's parents mansion. Became the perfect son-in-law. The one everyone adored.
The same year, Sara got pregnant. The next, their daughter was born. For a time, life was good. The family supported his dream of being a boxer. And when his fixed deposit matured, Nathan used it to clear the company's remaining debts—completely freeing them while he had nothing left for his future.
But as his boxing career struggled, and the wins never came, support began to fade. Sara's mother grew cold. Amy became distant. And now, with every dollar they'd ever spent on him tallied up like receipts.
Nathan had grown used to the cold stares. His mother-in-law no longer offered him a seat at the table. Amy, his sister-in-law, spoke to him like he was a stranger renting space in the family home. But he took it all in stride. He told himself it was temporary. Maybe they were frustrated, maybe things would get better again. He kept quiet. He kept hoping.
But everything changed the day Richard Whitefield returned.
It was supposed to be a normal afternoon. Nathan had gone with Sara to a charity event downtown—something organized by the city's sports committee. Sara looked beautiful, radiant even, in a flowing light blue dress. Nathan stayed close by her side, quiet and observant.
Then, out of nowhere, a tall, broad-shouldered man walked through the crowd. His presence alone turned heads. He wore a black designer suit and sunglasses, with cameras flashing as reporters trailed him.
Nathan felt Sara's hand stiffen in his.
"Is that…?" she whispered, her eyes wide.
"Who?" Nathan asked, but before she could respond, the man spotted them.
"Sara!" the man called out, spreading his arms with a bright, confident smile.
Sara let go of Nathan's hand and took a step forward. "Richard?"
They hugged tightly—too tightly, Nathan thought—and then stepped back, laughing and looking each other over.
"It's been forever," Richard said, clearly admiring her. "Look at you. You haven't changed a bit."
"Neither have you," Sara replied with a shy smile. "Well, except… you're famous now."
Richard laughed. "Heavyweight champ in the UFC," he said with a wink. "And I just took over my dad's estate. Pretty crazy how life works."
Nathan felt awkward, still standing behind his wife. He cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Hi. I'm Nathan. Sara's husband."
Richard gave him a glance, then turned back to Sara, ignoring Nathan's extended hand.
"You married him?" Richard asked her directly, not hiding the disappointment in his voice.
"Yes," Sara said quickly, but her tone was almost defensive.
Richard scoffed. "Why? Why settle for this guy, Sara? You could be with me. You know that, right?"
Nathan blinked, stunned. "Excuse me?" he asked, his voice low.
Richard finally turned to face him, cocking his head slightly. "No offense, but she was mine first. We had something special. Still do, if she'd admit it."
Nathan's blood boiled. "You don't talk to my wife like that," he growled, stepping forward.
Before Sara could stop him, Nathan swung. His fist flew straight at Richard's jaw—but Richard moved fast. Too fast. With one brutal counter, he landed a punch that sent Nathan sprawling to the ground, hard and fast. The crowd gasped.
Everything went black.
When Nathan opened his eyes, he was slumped in the backseat of their car. His head throbbed. His vision blurred. Sara sat beside him, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She didn't even look at him.
"Sara…" he whispered.
She turned to him, her eyes burning with fury. "Don't talk to me."
Nathan blinked. "I—he insulted you. I was trying to protect—"
"Protect me?" she snapped. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone! You made me look like a fool. Do you have any idea what they were saying about me? That I'm the wife of a failure!"
Nathan's chest tightened. He wanted to say something, anything—but he knew it wouldn't matter.
"I'm done supporting you, Nathan," she said coldly. "I've had enough."
Back at home, her mother was waiting in the living room, a glass of wine in hand. She looked up as the front door opened and immediately noticed Sara's mood.
"What happened, sweetheart?" she asked. "You look furious."
Sara didn't hesitate. "It's Nathan. We saw Richard today—yes, that Richard—and he embarrassed me in front of everyone. He attacked him! And then got knocked out. Everyone saw it, Mom. Everyone!"
Her mother gasped, then turned to Nathan with a disgusted look. "Are you serious? You tried to fight Richard Whitefield? You couldn't beat a high school student, let alone the heavyweight champion!"
Nathan's heart sank. "I was trying to defend my wife…"
Her mother scoffed. "Defend her? You humiliated her! You humiliated all of us. You're a walking disaster, Nathan. No job. No wins. No respect. And now you're dragging Sara's name through the mud."
"Mom, people were whispering behind my back," Sara said, tears welling in her eyes. "They called me Mrs. Loser!"