My Love's ROI Was 10%, so I Vanished

My wife, Abby Wright, is a top-tier venture capitalist who measures everything and everyone in terms of return on investment (ROI). If something promises a high return, she pours her heart into it. Anything under 20% gets tossed aside. On our fifth anniversary, she assessed our relationship at a 10% ROI. That same night, she dropped millions of dollars to host an art exhibition for her childhood friend, Edward Dawson, citing an 80% return. When Mom was rushed to the ER with a sudden heart attack, Abby calculated her survival ROI at 15%. She left me stranded all night just to fly overseas with Edward to chase the aurora—a trip she rated at a 90% return. The breaking point comes when my PhD research team gets trapped while mountain climbing and I injure my leg. With rescue teams too far away, we desperately need Abby to deploy her company's helicopter. But she coldly refuses over the phone. "A single helicopter flight costs hundreds of thousands. What kind of return can a bunch of broke students like you actually give me?" Weak from hunger, I plead, "We're completely out of food and water. We're going to starve." She snaps impatiently, "Edward's cat is a rare, award-winning breed worth a fortune. If it freezes to death, can you afford to pay for it?" As I suffer through dehydration and starvation, waiting for help that never comes, I scroll past a new post from Edward. "Turns out kitty was just hiding under the couch, but she dropped a multi-million dollar deal anyway, calling this her best investment yet." The photo shows Abby gently stroking the cat. Turns out ROI assessments were always just an excuse. The truth is, she just doesn't love me. As the sun dips below the horizon, I dial the one number I've avoided for a year. "Professor Buckner, I'll join that classified national project you mentioned." Chapter 1 On the other end of the line, the voice of my mentor, Henry Buckner, buzzed with suppressed excitement. "Johann, you've finally come around! Did you sign the authorization?" I looked down at my lower leg. The bone had snapped, tearing through the flesh, and blood had already turned the surrounding snow a deep crimson. "Not yet." My throat was so dry it felt like I'd swallowed sandpaper. "Good. Whatever you do, don't sign it. Our country needs you. Military rescue is already on the way." The line went dead, and my phone screen faded to black. Hypothermia was setting in, numbing my limbs, and my heartbeat slowed to a crawl. The three messages from my wife, Abby Wright, haunted me. None of them asked if I was alive. They were just pushing me to send her the patent authorization tomorrow. It was a spacecraft propulsion patent I'd spent countless sleepless nights developing. She wanted to use it for the electronic holographic projection at her childhood sweetheart Edward Dawson's art exhibition. Return on investment (ROI). Those three words twisted inside my heart like a viper. For our fifth anniversary, she calculated my ROI at 10%. When Mom was rushed into emergency heart surgery, 15%. Yet, Edward's exhibition got 80%. His trip to shoot the aurora got 90%. Even Edward's cat, who was hiding under the couch, was worth more than my life. I forced a bitter smile, tasting blood on my chapped lips. Suddenly, a deafening roar echoed across the valley. It wasn't the light sound of a civilian helicopter but the heavy, air-shattering beat of military rotors. Gale-force winds whipped up the fallen snow. Three heavy-duty rescue choppers bearing military insignia hovered overhead, and fully geared special rescue units began rappelling down. I saw camouflage uniforms, tactical helmets, and cold, gleaming weapons. The team leader strode right up to me. His combat boots crunched heavily in the snow. He snapped to attention a foot away, close enough that I could hear his heavy breaths, and gave a crisp salute. "Dr. Aguirre, our country needs you." I closed my eyes as the medics loaded me onto a stretcher. By the time the chopper doors sealed shut, I had lost consciousness. When I came to, I was staring at the stark white ceiling of a ward. The smell of disinfectant wasn't overpowering, just crisp and clinical. My lower leg was locked in a thick cast, and the dull hum of anesthesia still lingered in my nerves. Beside my bed, the phone screen lit up, with barely 3% battery left. Abby's name flashed across it. I picked up. "You've really outdone yourself this time, Johann Aguirre!" Her scream rattled my eardrums. "Do you have any idea how much money Edward lost because you went missing and left his exhibition without holographic tech? We're talking hundreds of thousands in lost traffic revenue. Can you even afford to pay for that?" I looked out the window at the armed guards standing post outside. My chest didn't even clench at her words. "I almost died on that mountain," I said. Silence fell over the line for a beat, followed by Abby's scoff. "Bad weeds don't die easily. Besides, your life isn't worth 100 thousand dollars. Just sign the authorization already, unless you want me to cut off your mom's medical bills to cut our losses." Edward's voice sounded in the background. "Don't be mad, Abby. If Johann wants to play the victim to get money, he can just say so. I'll lend him some." The passive-aggressive act made my stomach churn. I didn't yell. I didn't argue. I just quietly watched the IV solution fall, drop by drop. Chapter 2 "The authorization is canceled, Abby. We're getting a divorce," I said. The sound of a glass shattering rang out over the receiver. Abby froze. She was used to my obedience and used to treating me as a low-risk, guaranteed asset. "Are you out of your mind, Johann Aguirre? A broke loser like you can't even afford your mom's ICU fees without me. I bet you'll be on your knees begging me back by tonight!" I hung up on her and immediately blocked her number. The ward door pushed open. Two officers in crisp military uniforms stepped inside. Their polished shoes moved silently across the anti-static floor. They walked over to the bed and handed me a dossier stamped "Confidential". "Dr. Aguirre, once you sign this document, your public identity will be permanently erased. Your family will also be placed under the highest level of military protection." I took the pen. The nib scraped softly across the paper as I signed my name without a second thought. From this day on, Johann Aguirre was dead. Abby was too accustomed to me giving in. She didn't believe for a second that I would actually go through with the divorce. That same evening, she took Edward as her date to an exclusive high-society gala. The event was disgustingly lavish, with champagne towers glittering under crystal chandeliers. Dressed in a custom haute couture gown, Abby walked arm-in-arm with Edward. She took the stage and announced into the microphone, "Tonight, I am licensing Dr. Johann Aguirre's latest patent to Edward's tech firm at half price. This investment will yield a return of over 300%." Thunderous applause broke out across the room. With tears welling in his eyes, Edward looked toward the cameras. "Thank you for your support, Abby. I won't let your hard work go to waste." The nauseatingly sweet display played out live on a secure screen right in my ward. I leaned back against the headboard, holding a glass of warm water. The temperature was just right. Standing beside my bed was the top legal counsel appointed by the military. He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and said flatly, "Dr. Aguirre, the clawback procedure is ready." I took a sip of water. "Execute it." The lawyer tapped the "Enter" key. Back at the gala, Abby's secretary, Rosa Weaver, stumbled into the hall. Tripping over her hemline, she crashed awkwardly at Abby's feet. "Ms. Wright, this is bad!" Rosa's voice cracked with pure panic. "Johann revoked all core technology authorizations! Our servers have been forcibly locked down! Our business partners just called demanding over ten million dollars in breach penalties!" The entire hall fell dead silent. The arrogance on Abby's face froze in an instant. She snatched the tablet from Rosa's hands. A stark line of red text flared on the screen. "Technology reclaimed by the state." "No way!" Abby shrieked. "How could a useless nobody like Johann have that kind of authorization?" Stomping in her four-inch heels, she stormed out of the gala in a rage. Flanked by her bodyguards, she rushed straight to the public hospital where I had been staying. However, she found no one there. The bed was cleared out. The head nurse told her I had already been transferred. As Abby stood in the empty room, her chest heaved violently. Gritting her teeth, she called the private hospital. "Cut off the ICU care for Johann's mother! Let's see how long he can keep hiding!" Edward thoughtfully handed her a tissue from the side. "Don't be mad, Abby. He's just using his mom to extort more money out of you. Penniless men like him are greedy to the core." When word reached the military hospital, I was working through leg rehabilitation. The physiotherapist was very professional. As I looked at the notice on my phone warning that Mom's medication was being withheld, my eyes went as cold as a frozen lake. I didn't contact Abby. I didn't beg for her mercy. I simply pressed the red button on the headboard and submitted a report to military security. Chapter 3 Half an hour later, Abby shoved open the doors to the private hospital's ICU ward, flanked by Edward and a crew of bodyguards. She expected to see me sobbing, begging her for mercy on my knees. The heavy doors groaned on their hinges. But the sight inside the ward instantly wiped the smirk off her face. There was no frail Mom or a desperate, broken version of me. Instead, a line of fully armed tactical officers stood waiting for them. Dark gun barrels were raised in unison, and red laser sights locked squarely onto the bridges of Abby's and Edward's noses. Just then, the tactical squad leader took a step forward, his combat boots landing hard on the floor tiles. "This is a restricted military area. Intruders will be shot on sight!" Abby's eyelashes fluttered in panic, and her pupils shrunk in terror. The cold gleam of steel stung her eyes. She instinctively stumbled back, her heel twisting beneath her as she fell hard onto the floor. Edward's legs gave out entirely. A foul, acrid stench quickly filled the air. He had wet his pants right then and there. The tactical officers wasted no words. Grabbing Abby and the rest by the collar, they hauled them out and dumped them past the hospital gates. Abby hit the rough asphalt. Her palms were scraped raw and oozed beads of blood. Shaken to her core, she stared back at the sealed doors. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Even as she sat on the pavement, Abby still processed everything through her entitled capitalist mindset. "Johann, you actually took out payday loans to hire private bodyguards?" She screamed into the empty air through gritted teeth, "Blowing money like that is the dumbest return on investment imaginable! Let's see how many days you last!" … In the rehabilitation unit at the military hospital, I sat in my wheelchair. Sunlight streamed through the window, resting warm over the cast on my leg. I accepted one last video call from Abby. On the screen, her hair was a disheveled mess, but her posture remained stubbornly arrogant. She slammed a thick stack of papers down onto her desk. "Johann, this is the divorce agreement. You walk away with nothing, and every single patent and backup code stays with me. Otherwise, I won't pay another cent for your mom's treatment!" In the corner of the frame, Edward had changed into a fresh pair of pants. Leaning back against the couch, he casually twirled the fifth-anniversary watch I had given Abby. The metal wristband clinked against his fingers. He stared defiantly into the camera, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. I didn't counter. I didn't lose my temper. I simply gave the lawyer standing beside me a faint nod. The lawyer faxed a pre-signed agreement straight to Abby's office. The printer hummed into motion. Looking at the bold signature, she felt a growing sense of unease rather than joy. It didn't feel like a hard-won deal. I was too quiet—as still and cold as dead water. "Ms. Wright," I said, looking straight into the lens. "Congratulations. You've just thrown away the highest-yield asset of your entire life." I cut the feed and permanently deleted all my personal accounts. At that exact moment, a military special operations team had already entered Abby's villa. They packed up all my belongings, from my clothes and books to the wooden figurine I had carved for Abby, and threw them straight into the incinerator in the villa's backyard. Flames roared upward, papers curled, and the wood crackled as it split apart. Every last shred of our past vanished into ashes. By the time Abby rushed back to the villa, all that remained was a pile of black soot. She stared at the smoldering pile and let out a cold laugh. "What a pathetic little stunt. He won't even be able to afford a meal in three days." Chapter 4 Right at that moment, Abby's phone vibrated furiously inside her purse. It was Rosa calling, her voice choked with tears. "Ms. Wright, the market just opened! Investors are panic-selling because the core tech was pulled! We've lost 100 million dollars in market value!" Abby dropped her purse. An expensive lipstick rolled straight into the pile of black soot. Her breath hitched, and her chest heaved heavily. She forced down the rising panic in her heart. She would never allow such a massive crater in her investment portfolio. Pouring in millions, she hired an army of internet trolls and media accounts. Smear campaigns exploded across trending lists, pinning the entire breach of contract on me. She was aiming to blacklist me from the industry. Edward seized the moment to lean in. "Abby, Johann's tech was never that special to begin with. I just founded an alternative R&D firm. As long as funding is in place, we can easily replace him." Abby clung to him like a lifeline. Overconfident in her own judgment, she transferred the company's entire remaining 30 million dollars in cash reserves directly into Edward's account. "This investment must double my money." Three days after her blacklisting order went out, the entire industry remained dead silent. Not a single research institution or enterprise stepped forward to respond. It was completely unnatural. Abby finally sensed that something was wrong. She dialed my number, planning to humiliate me once more. This time, instead of the automated message saying the phone was switched off, a cold automated voice answered, "This number is classified as a top-secret national security asset. You are not authorized to call it." Abby's hand trembled, almost dropping the phone onto her desk. Panic set in. She sped through red lights, driving straight to the research institute where I used to work. Sitting behind his desk, the director stared at her like she was an absolute fool. "Johann? His file was transferred out long ago. There's no record of anyone by that name now. Ms. Wright, you're in serious trouble." Abby refused to believe it. She pulled every political and business string she had, trying to track my travel history and bank statements. However, every search interface went black, displaying a classified status. Moments later, cyber police remotely locked down her laptop. The overwhelming uncertainty coiled around her neck like a venomous snake. For the very first time, she realized the situation had completely slipped beyond the reach of her calculations. At 8:00 pm, during the national broadcast, the international news report abruptly cut out. The screen flashed a glaring red. A breaking, world-shaking announcement cut through the air. The news anchor's voice echoed with intense excitement, "Our nation's multi-billion-dollar Solaris Aerospace Engine successfully completed its ignition test today! "This marks a complete breakthrough in our aerospace propulsion technology, ending our country's dependence on foreign technology!" The footage cut to the command room. Complex data flashed across massive monitors. Surrounded by high-ranking officials, the man with a badge identifying him as the chief engineer turned toward the camera. His profile was identical to mine. As the camera zoomed in, I casually pulled off an anti-static glove. An old scar across my ring finger was exposed clearly to viewers nationwide. That was a permanent mark left behind when Abby cut my hand with broken glass to save Edward's cat years ago. Abby sat on the couch in her villa, staring fixedly at the TV screen. The wine glass in her hand shattered against the floor. Dark red liquid splattered across the carpet, resembling a pool of fresh blood. Her eyes twitched violently as her fingernails dug deep into her palms. "No way… This is completely impossible!" She snapped to her feet, a streak of wild obsession flashing in her eyes. "Johann, how dare you steal my tech to claim credit? I'm going to the research institute to expose you! I'll use my status as your spouse to make you spit out every single thing you've taken from me!" With that, she grabbed her phone and dialed the number.