Investing in My Crippled Wife: Every Return Makes Me Stronger

Clara glanced at her watch.

11:49 AM.

Eleven minutes left until her shift ended.

She looked up at the woman sitting in the wheelchair near the window.

Ethea Valmere.

Beautiful, even in her current state. Ice-blue eyes that seemed to see through everything. Long black hair that fell past her shoulders. Delicate features that would have been the envy of any woman.

But those eyes weren’t looking at Clara.

They were fixed on the front door, unblinking, as if waiting for someone to walk through it.

A small smile formed on Clara’s face.

She’d been working with Ethea for several days now, and she’d learned a few things.

The woman rarely talked. A few words here and there, mostly single syllables. Sometimes just silence and faint nods.

She appeared cold, indifferent, and distant.

But Clara was a woman who’d lived long enough to recognize what lay beneath the surface.

Ethea wasn’t indifferent to her husband, not entirely.

She just didn’t show it the way most people did.

The way she watched him when he wasn’t looking. The way her breathing changed slightly when he entered the room. The way she accepted his help without resistance, even though it clearly pained her to be so dependent.

They didn’t seem to love each other in a romantic sense. Not yet, anyway.

But their relationship was good.

Better than most marriages Clara had seen.

And having been in a similar situation herself once, Clara could guess it wouldn’t be too long before they warmed up to each other.

She’d seen the way Mr. Valmere looked at his wife when he thought no one was watching. The careful way he handled her. The determination in his eyes when he spoke about helping her recover.

That didn’t sound as obligation.

That was something deeper.

Clara finished folding the laundry she’d washed earlier and set it neatly on the table.

”Mrs. Valmere,” she said gently. ”Is there anything you need before I leave?”

Ethea didn’t respond immediately.

Then, quietly: ”...No.”

”Alright. Your husband should be back soon. He said the gate would clear in a few hours.”

Ethea’s eyes didn’t move from the door.

Clara gathered her things and moved toward the entrance.

Just as she reached for the door handle, it opened.

Soren stepped inside.

”Welcome ba—”

Clara froze mid-sentence.

His clothes were tattered and stained with blood, dirt clinging to the torn fabric. His right palm was wrapped crudely with a piece of white cloth, already soaked through with red.

But despite everything, he was smiling.

”I’m back.”

Clara recovered quickly from her shock. ”Mr. Valmere! Are you alright? Should I call for an ambulance?”

Soren shook his head. ”Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious. Will be healed soon.”

Clara hesitated, her eyes scanning his injuries with concern. But she knew Awakened were different from normal people. She was one herself, after all. Their bodies healed faster, endured more.

Still, the amount of blood was worrying.

”If you’re sure...” she said reluctantly.

”I’m sure.”

Clara nodded slowly. ”Alright then. I’ve finished everything for today. Mrs. Valmere had her morning care, and lunch is ready in the kitchen. Just needs to be served.”

”Thank you, Lady Clara.”

”Take care of yourself, Mr. Valmere. And please, rest properly.”

With that, she gave a small bow and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Soren stood in the entryway for a moment, letting out a long breath.

Then he looked toward the living room.

Ethea was staring at him.

Her ice-blue eyes were wide, locked onto his injuries.

For the first time since he’d met her, there was something clear in her expression.

...Concern.

Soren met her gaze briefly, then looked away. He didn’t want to explain or make her worry more than necessary.

”I’ll be back in a bit,” he said quietly.

Ethea gave a faint nod in response.

Sighing in relief, he headed upstairs to the bathroom.

The hot water stung his cuts, but he gritted his teeth and cleaned himself thoroughly. The blood washed away, revealing the full extent of the damage. Shallow cuts on his shoulder and side. His right palm was worse, the skin cracked and raw from the Frost Palm Strike’s backlash.

He dried off, changed into clean clothes, and carefully bandaged his hand with proper medical gauze from the first aid kit.

Much better than the torn cloth he’d used earlier.

And from the looks of it, it would fully heal in another two hours or so.

When he came back downstairs, he headed toward the kitchen to serve lunch.

Ding-dong.

The doorbell rang.

Soren paused, frowning slightly.

’Who could that be?’

Clara had just left. He wasn’t expecting anyone else. Or was it the police?

Pondering, he walked to the front door and opened it, and seeing a familiar figure standing on the porch, immediately froze.

It was an older man in his sixties, wearing a crisp black suit. His hair was gray and neatly combed. His expression was neutral, professional.

He was none other than the old butler of the Valmere.

’...Could it be?’

A bad premonition rose in Soren’s heart, but he quickly recovered his composure.

”Mr. Aldric,” he greeted carefully. ”What brings you here?”

The butler’s eyes flicked over Soren briefly, showing no emotion.

”I’m just here to deliver this.” The butler didn’t even greet back and directly extended a folded parchment.

Soren hesitated briefly before taking it. Then he invited the old man. ”Would you like to come inside?”

The butler shook his head dismissively. ”That won’t be necessary. I will take my leave after making sure you have read the document.”

”...Alright.” Soren unfolded the parchment and began reading.

As he read, his expression didn’t change, but his grip on the paper tightened slightly.

The document...

It was a disownment notice.

Effective immediately, he was no longer recognized as a member of the Valmere family. All ties, financial support, inheritance rights, and family name privileges were hereby revoked.

Signed by his father. Witnessed by the family council.

It was stamped with the Valmere family seal at the bottom, proving its authenticity.

”...I see,” Soren muttered after finishing. ’So they decided to make it official now, huh?’

He’d expected this would happen sooner or later. They already used him for the marriage arrangement, so he had no use left for them now.

But maybe this was for the better.

He had no attachment to that family anyway. They’d ignored him for all his life, treated him like he didn’t exist.

Now it was just made official.

Taking a deep breath, he looked back at the butler. ”Thank you for delivering it.”

Aldric’s eyes narrowed briefly, perhaps not expecting such a calm reaction.

But he simply nodded. ”Understood.”

Without another word, the butler turned and walked away.

Soren stood there for a moment, staring at the parchment in his hand.

Then he closed the door quietly and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.

He folded the parchment and set it on the side table.

Then he headed to the kitchen to serve lunch.

There was nothing else to say about it.

However, he noticed Ethea staring at the parchment intently, as if interested in what it was about.

’...No. Better not to mention it.’

He shook his head and quickly served the lunch.

”Say ahh.”

Just as he was about to start feeding her, the door rang once again.

Ring-ring!

”...”

Speechless, Soren let his hand down and headed to open the door.

”Welcome, wha-!”

And froze.

”F-Father-in-law?!”