Rising from Betrayal

Chapter 003

"Norman!"

Vivienne's voice rose sharply, cutting through his thoughts.

"Are you deaf?! I'm talking to you!"

The impatience on Vivienne's face deepened into open irritation.

"Did you seriously just ignore me?" she snapped.

"If you don't move right now, I'm really going to lose my temper."

Norman let out a cold laugh.

"Lose your temper?"

His eyes hardened.

"What the hell gives you the right?"

For twenty-two years, he had swallowed every grievance, obeyed every request, satisfied every unreasonable demand.

Looking back now...

He wanted nothing more than to slap his younger self across the face.

What the hell was he thinking?

With his abilities, his family's wealth and influence, what kind of woman couldn't he have married?

So why...

Why had he obsessed over Vivienne as though she'd cast some spell on him?

I was such a damn right fool!

"What... did you just say?"

Vivienne's beautiful eyes widened in disbelief.

"You actually dared yell at me? Have you lost your mind?!"

For the first time since she'd known him, Norman hadn't apologized.

Instead...

He had barked back?

Vivienne's anger was quickly joined by confusion.

What's wrong with him?

She knew Norman better than anyone.

Whenever she frowned...

Whenever she sounded even slightly unhappy...

He would immediately admit he was wrong, apologize, and do exactly as she wanted.

But today... it was as if he'd become a completely different person.

Unbelievable.

She had agreed to marry him, sacrificing her own happiness.

She certainly hadn't done it just to be controlled... or yelled at.

When she went out...

What she did...

Who she chose to spend time with...

Those were all her decisions.

Since when did Norman have the right to interfere?!

She took a deep breath, her expression turning icy.

"I'll say this one last time. Move."

"I'm counting to one. If you're still standing there..."

She paused for emphasis, her voice rising loud enough to echo down the hallway.

"...then we're getting a divor—"

Outside the apartment, the noise had already attracted attention.

The front door hadn't been pulled fully shut. Slow footsteps could be heard, drifting down the corridor. Mrs. Hartwell from unit 12B, the neighborhood’s self-appointed collector of gossip, has somehow found a reason to linger outside. Even the two college students from the end of the hall had conveniently stopped beside the elevator, pretending to check their phones while eavesdropping.

“Those two are at it again?”

"Nah. Calling it an argument is giving him too much credit. Norman's just getting scolded."

"I'll bet he apologizes before she even finishes counting."

"Come on. He's still a man."

"So?"

"He might last... five seconds."

"..."

The other student rolled his eyes.

"You're way too optimistic."

A few apartment doors quietly opened a crack.

Everyone was waiting to watch the familiar ending.

Meanwhile, Vivienne began counting aloud, her voice calm and full of certainty.

"Three..."

She didn't doubt the outcome for even a second.

Norman had always yielded.

He always would.

Whether his parents were wealthy or not made no difference.

The moment she put her foot down...

He always behaved like an obedient lapdog.

Completely unaware of the icy mockery in Norman's eyes, she continued, "Two..."

Silence filled the apartment.

Then... Norman loosened his grip.

The bouquet slipped from his fingers.

"Do whatever you want."

A triumphant smile flickered across Vivienne's eyes—the smile he had long mistaken for warmth.

She knew it.

Norman was still the same obedient lapdog. Show him the slightest hint of displeasure, and he'd swallow his anger.

"Good." She stepped toward the foyer mirror and smoothed her hair with a gesture Norman knew by heart.

"Then come downstairs with me. Nathan's almost at the lobby. The least you can do is greet him properly, so he doesn't think you have no manners."

"Try to look presentable. Don't embarrass me in front of him."

Norman didn't answer.

He turned toward Mrs. Walker, the housekeeper who had been standing quietly in the corner of the room, her expression carefully—painstakingly—kept neutral.

"Mrs. Walker," Norman said evenly, "please prepare dinner. Something hot. Steak, soup, and whatever else we have in the refrigerator."

He glanced at the lavish candlelit table.

"And clear these dishes away. They're cold already."

Mrs. Walker blinked, then gave a small nod. "Of course, Mr. Calloway."

The old woman quietly gathered the untouched dishes and carried them toward the kitchen, letting out a quiet sigh.

Poor man.

In Mrs. Walker's eyes, Norman was handsome, wealthy, well-educated, and remarkably capable.

Instead of relying on his family's fortune, he had built a business with his own hands while still in his twenties.

By every measure, he was an exceptional young man.

The only flaw was that he had fallen hopelessly in love with the wrong woman.

Just a short while ago, he had spent the entire afternoon preparing this elaborate candlelit dinner with his own hands.

Now, because Mrs. Calloway didn't want it, he was having every dish thrown away without a second thought.

And even now, worried that she might go hungry after leaving the house, he was asking for fresh hot food to be prepared for her.

Mrs. Walker couldn't help shaking her head inwardly.

A man reduced to this...

Is that devotion... or simply tragedy?

Vivienne gave a satisfied nod.

Her smile widened slightly.

She might never have loved Norman, but she had always enjoyed how attentive and obedient he was.

Whenever she went out, he quietly took care of everything for her, making sure she never had to worry about a thing.

The gathering was at a bar. Sure, they'd booked a private VIP room, but bars didn't exactly serve proper dinners.

Besides, Nathan had driven all the way here to pick her up. After such a long drive, he was probably hungry already.

The thought made her heart ache.

Mrs. Walker's cooking was famous throughout the neighborhood.

Norman had paid a premium to hire her because of her culinary skills.

Since the food was that good, Nathan deserved to try it too.

Mrs. Walker quietly watched the smug satisfaction on Vivienne's face, then glanced at Norman, whose expression hadn't changed in the slightest.

Her heart sank.

Had he really sunk this low?

Had he truly lost even the last shred of a man's dignity?

Or... had he simply forgotten what self-respect was?

"Oh, Mrs. Walker,” Vivienne suddenly remembered something. “Don't use any peanuts. Nathan's allergic."

The hallway instantly fell silent.

Then came a chorus of sharp, stunned breaths from behind the slightly open door.

Wait... what?

He's even planning the menu around another man's allergies?

Seriously? What a spineless coward!

Even Mrs. Walker couldn't stop herself from frowning.

She forced herself to nod anyway.

"Understood, Mrs. Calloway."

She was only the housekeeper. Her job was to take care of the household, not interfere in her employer's marriage.

Poor Mr. Calloway...

Rich. Handsome. Capable.

And somehow blind enough to throw everything away for a woman like this.

Just as the neighbors silently mocked Norman for bringing all of this upon himself...

Norman finally spoke.

His voice was calm, "I'm the one eating dinner."

He looked at Vivienne without the slightest trace of warmth.

"What the hell does your friend have to do with it?"