After Surgery, My Wife Locked Me Out

I dialed my wife's number from the operating room.

Vanessa, I need you to come to the hospital right away.

Her voice on the other end was faint, as if she was holding something back.

Marcus, I really can't leave right now My parents came all the way from Wisconsin for the holidays, and the whole family is here

A sharp pain made cold sweat bead on my forehead, but through the receiver, I clearly heard another man's voice:

"I heard having surgery on Christmas brings a 'deathly vibe from the hospital' home, jinxing the family's good fortune for the coming year."

Vanessa gasped, agreeing:

"Honey, Chad is quite spiritual, he might have a point"

"I'll book you a hotel suite. You can recover there after the surgery. When the holidays are over, you can come back."

No sooner had she spoken than my phone screen lit up with a notification C my black card had just been used for a $28,888 transaction at a luxury hotel.

Feasting on my dime, yet locking me out of my own home.

It was time to make them understand who the real owner of that card was.

The first thing I did after waking up from surgery was call the hotel's general manager. A quick conversation, and then I hung up.

Less than five minutes later, a refund confirmation landed in my inbox.

I was about to get up when the hospital room door gently pushed open. My driver, Gary, walked in, holding a payment slip.

"Mr. Davies, why are you up? The doctor said you need bed rest."

Gary's words brought a sliver of warmth to that cold Christmas Eve.

At that moment, I was grateful that when I gave the entire company Christmas break, Gary had volunteered to stay on call.

Otherwise, I truly would have spent this night alone in the hospital.

I nodded at him.

"I'm fine. I can check out."

The streets were exceptionally congested on Christmas Eve, and the drive to the hotel took nearly an hour.

In the hotel lobby, the front desk manager immediately greeted me:

"Mr. Davies, as you instructed, the private room has been upgraded. Your wife and her family have already arrived, and the dishes have just been served."

I sneered inwardly. My family?

My parents had been living in Switzerland for years. My "good wife" wouldn't think to invite them.

The server led me to the private room on the third floor. Laughter drifted from inside.

Mr. Jenkins's voice was the first to emerge:

"This fancy hotel's Christmas dinner is really something! Back in our town, we'd never get anything this good."

"Dad, if you like it, eat more. It's a holiday family dinner, of course we should eat well."

That was my wife, Vanessa's, voice.

"This meal must cost a fortune, right?"

"Not too much, about thirty thousand dollars. It's a Christmas dinner, it's worth it."

"Thirty thousand dollars?! In our town, that money would last a family two years!"

"It's fine, just charge it to Marcus's card."

I pressed the record button on my phone outside the door, continuing to listen.

Mr. Jenkins's voice sounded again, full of pride:

"My Vanessa is really something; she's got him wrapped around her little finger."

"But he's still a man; always just focused on the company isn't right. You two have been married three years; it's time for a child."

"He's not getting any younger. In a few more years, even if he wanted one, it might be difficult."

I gripped my phone. Mr. Jenkins's hypocritical facade was clear to me, but I'd always felt there was something off about his relationship with Vanessa.

At home, he'd respectfully call me "Mr. Davies," yet he'd address his "niece" by her first name. A suspicion formed in my mind C were they actually father and daughter?

The next second, Vanessa's words confirmed my guess.

"Dad, Marcus has always said he doesn't want children."

"What man doesn't want children!"

Mr. Jenkins's voice suddenly rose.

"If you hadn't told me he was rich and owned a company, I wouldn't have looked twice at him!"

"And now, he won't even have a child. This is going to leave our family without an heir!"

A young male voice echoed from the private room, a voice I'd never heard before:

"Vanessa, if Marcus doesn't want kids, I can help!"

"I'm strong; I can definitely get Vanessa pregnant with healthy babies. As long as Vanessa's willing, she can have as many as she wants!"

Mr. Jenkins laughed:

"Vanessa, Chad was always the one I picked for you. He's liked you for so many years; I think it's a great idea."

"Dad, now's not the time. Not until Marcus settles the company stock transfer."

Just then, footsteps sounded in the hallway as a server approached:

"Mr. Davies, why are you standing outside the door? Would you like me to take you in?"

The chatter and laughter in the private room instantly ceased.

I thanked the server and pushed open the door.

Vanessa froze when she saw me.

"Honey, what are you doing here?"

I scanned the room C Vanessa, Mr. Jenkins, and a burly young man were seated around the lavish Christmas dinner table.

That stranger, I presumed, was "Chad."

I pulled out a chair and sat down, looking at Vanessa and speaking coldly:

"Christmas Eve, a family dinner. I hadn't even arrived, and you've already started?"

"Was the dinner too tempting to wait for me, or did you simply have no intention of inviting me?"

A flicker of panic crossed Vanessa's eyes, quickly replaced by a smile as she sat down beside me:

"Honey, what are you talking about? We just arrived too; we were just about to call you."

"You're my husband. If I'm not spending the holidays with you, who else would I be with?"

She gazed at me affectionately, her tone gentle. If I hadn't known about her scheming behind my back, I might have been fooled by that facade.

Seeing my silence, she poured me a cup of hot tea:

"By the way, honey, did you just get here? Why didn't you call me down to meet you?"

I scoffed inwardly. Meeting me was a pretense; probing if I'd overheard their conversation was the truth.

She visibly relaxed when I said I "just arrived."

But I had no intention of letting it go. I pointed at Chad:

"Who is he? Why is there an outsider at our family gathering?"

Before Vanessa could answer, Mr. Jenkins hastily spoke:

"Marcus, this is Chad. He's my daughter's... no, no, he's just a child of a distant relative of mine."

"He had nowhere to go for the holidays in the city, so Vanessa, being kind, invited him to dinner with us."

I looked at Mr. Jenkins thoughtfully.

"Mr. Jenkins, you've been living at my house for about half a year now. Who pays your salary in this household?"

Mr. Jenkins gave an uneasy laugh:

"Marcus, why bring that up now? My salary has always come from you."

"Since you know I pay your salary, you should understand that I am your employer."

"At my company, everyone on my payroll calls me Mr. Davies. I can overlook the titles, but" C I leaned forward C "to say on the phone that my Christmas illness was 'inauspicious' and to keep me from coming home C who gave you the right to meddle in my affairs?"

Mr. Jenkins's expression clearly panicked, but he still argued:

"Marcus, I was just telling the truth! Back in our town, going to the hospital during Christmas is just bad luck; it brings misfortune"

"In that case," I leaned back against my chair, "you're fired. Pack your bags tomorrow and find another job."

Only then did Mr. Jenkins realize the gravity of the situation. He quickly stood up and looked at Vanessa:

"Marcus, Mr. Davies! I didn't do anything wrong! You can't fire me just because you're unhappy!"

"I'm the employer, and I'm not satisfied. That's reason enough."

Vanessa, who had been quiet until now, finally couldn't hold back:

"Honey, Dad's getting old, it's not easy for him. He was just looking out for me... Please forgive him this once!"

She picked a cold piece of lobster from the leftover dishes and placed it on my plate:

"I promise, Dad won't speak out of turn again. If there's a next time, I won't defend him!"

Seeing my silence, Vanessa gave Mr. Jenkins a look. He immediately lowered his head:

"Mr. Davies, I know I was wrong. Please give me another chance. I won't speak recklessly again."

I "reluctantly" nodded. The three at the table visibly relaxed.

They resumed eating, and Vanessa kept piling food onto my plate. I had no appetite, so I used the excuse of going to the restroom and left the hotel.

I hadn't canceled the private room, so naturally, the bill wasn't paid.

I froze Vanessa's secondary card on my mobile banking app.

This Christmas feast? Whoever ate it, pays for it.