Once My Husband's Timer Reach Zero, I'll be Filthy Rich

He cheated and I handed him the condom myself. He was violent and I kept the medicine ready before he even raised his hand. He brought women home and I welcomed them at the door with a smile, the candlelight casting soft shadows on my face, the wine already poured. The servants sneered behind my back, whispering that I had no dignity, that I was pitiful.

But they didn't know the truth.

The day I married him, I saw the countdown above his head—three years left.

Three years. That was all I had to endure. So, I played the role of the perfect, spineless wife, absorbing every slap, every…