The Sixty Year Old Manager

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On our golden anniversary, I accidentally discovered my celebrity wife's private photo collection in her cloud drive.

In the photos, she was incredibly provocative, showing a level of intimacy that was staggering.

The man behind the camera was none other than Ewan, her exclusive photographer, who was exactly thirty years her junior.

Attached to the photos was a caption: "I will never let my husband touch me again! My body exists only for my darling Ewan's eyes!"

Thirty years of my devotion and hard work felt like a total joke in the face of those words.

I poured out the expensive organic collagen tonic I had woken up at 4:00 AM to brew for her and booked a one-way ticket out of the country.

1.

Vivienne's call came through with its usual aggressive, commanding tone.

"Arthur! Why hasn't my collagen tonic been delivered yet? I've been waiting at the film set for five minutes!"

In the past, I would have been terrified by her authoritative and impatient voice.

I used to apologize submissively, over and over, while she met me with endless verbal abuse.

Feeling my subconscious urge to apologize even now, I realized with a shock that she had practically trained me to be her servant over the years.

I suppressed the apology that was at the tip of my tongue and replied flatly.

"I'm not bringing it. I already poured it down the drain."

She erupted into a furious roar before abruptly hanging up on me.

A moment later, my daughter's phone call came through.

For a split second, I felt a spark of excitement because Jillian hadn't contacted me in nearly a month.

But then, the same roar as Vivienne's came through the speaker.

The joy vanished instantly, and my heart sank into a sea of coldness.

"Dad! Are you getting senile in your old age? You know Mom has to drink that tonic every day! You're almost sixty, stop acting out. The reason I hate coming home is because of how pathetic you are!"

I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it, a bitter taste filling my throat.

The moment the call ended, a strange sense of relief washed over me, as if I had finally reached a long-awaited breaking point.

Vivienne was a legendary A-list actress, and we had been together since college, spanning thirty years of marriage.

In our second year of marriage, she broke into the industry thanks to her stunning looks and talent.

When she was blacklisted by her agency for five years, I was the one who stayed by her side through the darkest times.

Seven years later, she broke her contract and started her own studio.

She came to me then, begging with tears in her eyes.

"Honey, I don't trust anyone else but you. Can you please be my manager?"

Because of that one sentenceDthat she only trusted meDI quit my high-paying corporate job and learned the ropes of the entertainment industry.

Under my management and through her hard work, we climbed to the top together and won numerous awards, becoming the envy of the industry.

I was her supposed pillar of strength, and I did everything for her.

What pleased her most was that I never missed a day of brewing that specific tonic for her.

I specifically set my alarm for 4:00 AM every single morning for thirty years to prepare it.

Every time she drank it, her eyes would well up, and she would tell me how much she loved me.

That changed ten years ago when Ewan entered her life, and even my daughter started to despise me.

Ewan was her exclusive photographer, thirty years younger than her.

I suppose there's some truth to the saying that younger is better.

At first, Vivienne was just flirtatious with him, but once I caught on, she became even more brazen.

Eventually, she fired me as her manager and told me to stay home and never visit her, except to deliver that damn tonic.

If I hadn't accidentally stumbled upon those files on her laptop, I would never have believed it.

I never would have guessed they had been maintaining this secret relationship for ten whole years.

For thirty years, I revolved my life around the kitchen and her needs, only to receive insults and ridicule from my wife and daughter.

They would berate me for the smallest mistakes, over and over again.

When they finally admitted how much they loathed me, I felt truly, deeply exhausted.

2.

I took off my apron and headed to the mall.

This time, I wasn't using the money to buy household supplies or things for them.

I bought several sets of expensive designer suits I had admired for years and spent five thousand dollars on a luxury dinner.

I went on a revenge spending spree, buying everything I had denied myself over the decades.

When I got back, Vivienne was already home.

Her face was dark, and she shot me a cold, piercing glare the moment I stepped through the door.

"Where the hell have you been? I waited ten minutes for that tonic! Because of you, Ewan didn't get his breakfast and almost fainted from low blood sugar on set!"

Hearing that, everything clicked.

So, she had been taking the tonics I made and giving them to Ewan for his breakfast.

I let out a cold laugh. "What does that have to do with me? Did I brew that for him?"

Vivienne crossed her arms and looked at me with undisguised disgust.

"I provide for you while you sit at home doing nothing. What's the big deal about making Ewan some breakfast?!"

"Also, I saw over a hundred thousand dollars was spent from the account this afternoon. What did you buy? Do you even care about this family's budget?"

I found her complaints absolutely ridiculous.

She was the one who forced me to stop working so I wouldn't interfere with her and Ewan.

Now, she was acting like I was some useless parasite she was supporting.

For thirty years, all the family expenses came from my career savings, yet now she thought I was being reckless for spending my own money.

I remained calm and stated firmly, "That account consists of my life savings. I have every right to spend it."

Vivienne didn't expect me, her usually submissive husband, to talk back twice in a row.

She gave me a strange look, and her anger seemed to simmer down slightly.

"Fine, I don't have the energy to argue. Buy whatever you want, it's not my money anyway. I'm tired. Go cook something, then go over to Ewan's and apologize to him."

She spoke with such entitlement, as if serving her lover was part of my job description.

I sat down on the sofa and gave her a distant look.

"Vivienne, I don't owe anyone anything, especially not you. You didn't hide the files on your computer well enough. I saw everything this morning."

Vivienne instinctively glanced toward her laptop, a flash of guilt crossing her face.

"Those are old photos! I just wanted to capture myself while I'm still young and beautiful! Don't be so petty, they're just pictures!"

She had been in a position of power for so long that even her explanations felt like she was doing me a favor.

I wasn't going to fall for her pathetic excuses anymore.

I stared at her intensely.

"What about the words written after the photos? If I remember correctly, our intimate life ended exactly ten years ago. It matches the timeline you wrote down perfectly."

I thought my heart couldn't hurt anymore, but Vivienne delivered a final, crushing blow.

She pointed a finger at my face and sneered.

"Arthur, aren't you embarrassed to be thinking about that at your age? Are you really trying to compare yourself to Ewan? You can't even touch a young stud like him. It's only natural I don't want to be with you!"

I couldn't help but laugh out loud. She was shamelessly blaming her cheating on my age.

"It is natural, I suppose. I understand. After all, everyone loves someone younger."

I looked her straight in the eyes and said solemnly, "So, let's get a divorce. You can go live with your young stud."

As I said those words, Jillian walked in and immediately started shouting.

"Dad! Are you seriously talking about divorce at your age? How embarrassing! I know about Mom's photos. Every woman wants to record her beauty. Just because you're old and useless doesn't mean you can stop Mom from having her fun!"

Her expression of annoyance and disgust was identical to Vivienne's. I looked at her calmly.

"You've always looked down on me as a father anyway. Once I divorce your mother, you can have whatever kind of father you actually like."

Jillian glared at me with pure hatred. "If you leave, who's going to take care of us? Uncle Ewan is too talented to stay home and be a servant!"

Her words were chilling and heartbreaking.

Half a lifetime of labor was nothing more than "servitude" in their eyes.

"Jillian, when you were three and got that illness, everyone said you wouldn't make it. I stayed by your side day and night until you recovered. When you were seven and got snatched by that trafficker, I took three knife wounds to bring you back. On your sixteenth birthday, you said, 'Dad, I wish for you to stay healthy and be with me forever.'"

Recollecting those fading memories of warmth brought tears to my eyes, but the reality was nothing but ice.

"Why are you bringing up ancient history? I was a kid then! It was your job to do those things for me!"

I felt a lump in my throat. I opened my mouth, then closed it, and finally just sighed.

"Just sign the papers once the divorce settlement is ready. Jillian stays with you. I don't want anything."

Vivienne pointed at me and cursed.

"Fine! Don't you dare come begging to get back in this house! Let's go, Jillian! Let's see if your father starts crying and begging us to come home!"

The mother and daughter duo slammed the door as they left, and suddenly, I felt the weight lift.

It was finally going to end.

3.

Vivienne and Jillian didn't come home that night, and for the first time in years, I slept in without an alarm.

The lawyer delivered the divorce papers, and just as I finished signing them and placed them on the table, they returned.

They brought Ewan with them.

Vivienne looked at me with irritation. "Don't think I'm back to make peace! I promised Director Marshall a family interview today, and he'll be here any minute!"

I frowned. Director Marshall had been a mentor to me.

When I first started as a manager, he was the one who used his connections to get me trained by the best in the business.

I didn't want him to have made the trip for nothing, so I agreed to the interview.

A short while later, the director arrived and motioned for us to sit on the sofa.

"Ewan, don't sit down. Get the camera ready. We're starting!"

Ewan, who had been sitting smugly next to Vivienne to provoke me, scurried off to set up the gear.

Even though it was a family interview, Vivienne and Jillian refused to sit anywhere near me.

Director Marshall noticed the awkward tension and tried to smooth things over with a smile.

"Vivienne, take Jillian and sit next to Arthur. How are we supposed to show a happy, harmonious family like this?"

Vivienne cared about her public image above all else, so she didn't show her blatant hatred for me in front of the director.

She pursed her lips and moved over with Jillian.

"Vivienne, Arthur, what is the secret to keeping your family so harmonious and loving for thirty years?"

Vivienne and Jillian just stared at me with cold eyes, waiting for me to provide the answer.

In their minds, there was no harmony left to speak of.

I answered slowly, "The secret is my one-sided sacrifice."

Director Marshall gave me a meaningful look.

Vivienne and Jillian were clearly unhappy with my response, their faces darkening.

The director gave a nervous laugh and a reminder.

"Vivienne, Jillian, don't look so grumpy. It won't look good on camera."

Vivienne clicked her tongue and took a few minutes to adjust her expression with Jillian.

But even after ten minutes, they couldn't muster a single pleasant look toward me.

At that moment, Ewan put down the camera and walked over with a smug grin.

"Director, why don't I sit next to Vivienne? They both like me, so their expressions will definitely improve. You can just edit me out later; I'll just be there to fix the mood."

Vivienne's face lit up, and before the director could even agree, she patted the seat next to her.

Jillian smiled and added, "Uncle Ewan! You should sit in the middle! They can just Photoshop you out in post-production!"

Ewan gave me a triumphant look and sat down boldly between them.

I was pushed nearly two feet away, looking completely out of place.

Director Marshall let out a heavy sigh, feeling helpless.

"Fine, we'll handle it in post-production."

The director then turned back to us as a couple.

"What is the most memorable event you two have shared from your youth to your later years?"

When Vivienne remained silent again, I was about to answer, but Ewan cut me realize.

"The most memorable thing for me is how Vivienne knows I have low blood sugar. She's been bringing me that collagen tonic every morning for ten years, waking up at the crack of dawn to make it. It's so moving!"

He spoke while interlacing his fingers with Vivienne's. She gave him a doting look and ruffled his hair.

"It's the least I could do."

I let out a cold, sharp laugh.

In thirty years of marriage, even though everyone knew who we were, she would never have physical contact with me in front of others.

If I even tried to get close, she would snap at me for being immature and worry about the tabloids writing hit pieces.

Yet here she was, holding Ewan's hand in front of the director, practically sitting in his lap.

And Jillian was chatting happily with Ewan as if he were her father.

Director Marshall sighed and tried to speak up for me.

"Ewan, how am I supposed to film this? Even with editing, you can't just keep interrupting!"

Ewan leaned into Vivienne's arms and said softly, "I'm sorry, Director. I didn't mean to. I'm just so used to being with Vivienne and Jillian. I accidentally slipped into the role of the leading man. I won't do it again..."

He was apologizing to the director, but his eyes were fixed on me, filled with mockery.

Vivienne pulled him closer and glared at me, shouting, "Arthur, why can't you say something to help Ewan? You didn't answer when you were asked, and now Ewan is getting scolded for helping you. Do you have any conscience at all?"

Jillian gave me a look of pure disgust and told her mother, "Forget it, Mom. Don't be mad. Let Ewan finish the interview with us. They can just edit his face onto Dad's later. Dad's too old to say anything useful anyway!"

Ewan smirked at me and snuggled into Vivienne's chest, asking mockingly, "Is that okay? I'm worried Arthur might have a problem with it."

"Let him have a problem! Director, do as Jillian says! Don't even bother editing him out! Ewan has done so much for this family; he's one of us. It's the same if you interview him!"

Vivienne shielded him in her arms, coldly and ruthlessly erasing my place in the family.

Director Marshall looked at me with pity, but I stood up, feeling calm and resolute.

"Director, I won't be continuing with the rest of the interview. They have Ewan; that's enough. Vivienne, I've signed the divorce papers and left them on the table. Don't forget to sign. I'm leaving now."