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Stealing My Stolen Years

NovelMaster · English · Theater: NovelMaster, Lang: English, Genre: Realistic, Genre: Romance, Genre: School, Genre: Reborn ·

Stealing My Stolen Years

Theater: NovelMaster  |  Language: English  |  NEW

Synopsis

In the third year of my marriage to Julian, I fell in love with someone else. I was ready to burn everything to the ground just to break free from him.
Everyone said I was crazy.
Julian had finally clawed his way to the top of the tech world, yet right at the peak of his glory, I wanted a divorce just to run away with a broke nobody.
Julian let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.
"Chloe, marrying me was the smartest thing you’ve ever done in your pathetic life. And now you want to throw it all away?"
I looked him dead in the eye and said calmly, "Yes. I don't want you anymore."
Before the words fully left my mouth, an ashtray flew across the room and shattered against my temple. Blood trickled down my forehead as Julian roared.
"Chloe, don't you dare come crawling back crying!"
I wouldn't. Years later, it was Julian who called me at midnight, sobbing hysterically, begging me to come back.
By then, another man was kissing the scar on my temple, hot tears rolling down his cheeks.
"Chloe... all those stolen years... what on earth did he put you through?"
There were countless rumors about Julian in New York.
He was the illegitimate son of the Sterling family, cast aside and despised in his youth. But once he grew up, he brutally fought for his place among the heirs, only to turn his back on the Sterling empire to build his own startup. He quickly became the city’s newest billionaire, adored by everyone.
The tabloids painted him as an unstoppable self-made king. It sounded like an exaggeration, but I knew it was all true. I had known him since high school.
Julian was fiercely ambitious, dangerously competent, and proud to a fault. Even in the most superficial social circles, he shone brighter than anyone else.
Because of his fame, there was another rumor that followed him everywhere: how madly in love he was with his wife.
People said we were high school sweethearts who survived the hardest struggles together, and even after striking gold, he never abandoned his high school sweetheart.
Once, an investor made a crude joke about me. Julian flipped the table on the spot, cut ties with him immediately, and practically crushed the guy’s business in the industry.
He spent millions spoiling me, buying up designer clothes and jewelry across the city, declaring to the world that his wife deserved nothing but the absolute best.
Those rumors were true, too. Because I was that wife.
For our third wedding anniversary, Julian booked an entire rooftop restaurant in Manhattan. Fine red wine, fireworks bursting across the night sky, and a massive diamond necklace he personally picked out for me. It was dripping with textbook romance.
He leaned in, fastening the cold necklace around my neck, and pressed a kiss to my forehead. His eyes gleamed behind his glasses as he whispered,
"Chloe, you're breathtaking."
I gave him a faint smile. And that was the exact moment Noah walked into my life again.
He was working as a server at the restaurant, and he "accidentally" spilled a newly decanted glass of Cabernet all over Julian’s shirt.
Julian frowned, quickly told me to stay put, and rushed to the restroom to clean up.
Left alone, my eyes locked with Noah’s. He still had those deep, soulful eyes that looked gentle no matter who he stared at, yet the words out of his mouth were stiff and rough.
"Chloe. Have you been happy all these years?"
"As you can see. I'm doing great."
"Liar. You hate that necklace Julian just gave you. But you didn’t say a damn word."
The smile slipped from my face. He was right. I despised flashy, meaningless trinkets.
If I had to wear jewelry, I preferred simple jade or understated raw gemstones. Something quiet. Something gentle.
Noah pressed his lips tightly together. His gaze was tense, stubborn, and completely fixed on me—just like back in high school.
Julian didn't recognize him at all. To Julian, Noah was just the poor kid on financial aid from our old class. But the second Noah and I made eye contact, we knew each other instantly.
I whispered, "Julian will be back any second. What else do you want to say?"
Noah pulled out his phone without hesitation and had me scan his SnapChat.
When Julian returned in a fresh shirt, I couldn't help but chuckle. He asked me what was so funny, and I just shook my head in silence.
I was honestly wondering: if Julian knew that while he was gone, I had just reconnected with the boy I used to have a crush on, would his head explode with rage?
For the rest of the dinner, Noah stood quietly to the side, but his gaze never left me.
He watched me force down a meal I didn't like. He watched Julian wrap his arms around me.
And I watched Julian. I watched his rehearsed, repetitive routine of "deep love" that hadn't changed in three years. He never bothered to put any real thought into getting me something I actually wanted.
Every holiday, every anniversary: it was always fancy steak, fireworks, and an overpriced diamond necklace.
Right then and there, the thought of divorcing him flashed through my mind once again.The second time I saw Noah was at a charity gala I attended with Julian. Noah was still working as a catering server.
After that rooftop dinner, I hadn't texted him. But I did ask around about his life.
His grandmother had passed away. He was all alone in the world now.
Financially, his life was much easier than it had been in high school, but he was still addicted to working odd jobs, keeping every minute of his day packed.
Noah discreetly swapped the glass of champagne on his tray for sparkling berry juice and handed it to me, quietly sliding a plate of strawberry mousse in front of me as well. It was a silent, gentle gesture.
Of course, at an event like this, no one came for the food.
I stood there in the couture gown Julian had selected for me, enduring the judging stares of high society.
I listened to everyone sucking up to Julian, tossing me a few flattering scraps along the way.
"Go mingle, Chloe. I have some business to handle. I'll come find you in a bit."
Julian patted my head like I was a golden retriever. The executives standing opposite him immediately chimed in with praises.
"Mr. Sterling treats his wife like an absolute princess! You spoil her rotten."
Julian loved praise. He fed on it. He chuckled warmly and replied,
"I can't help it. Every time I look at her, I still see that cute high school girl. I guess I treat her like a kid sometimes. Excuse my indulgence, gentlemen."
The group laughed and walked away. Noah silently stepped up beside me.
"If you hate these parties, why do you even come?"
"I’m Julian’s wife. Showing up at these networking galas is part of my job."
"So he can just dump you in a corner alone where you don't know a single soul?"
I looked up at Noah, keeping my face blank. "Since when did you get so chatty? Trying to stir up trouble in my marriage?"
"I'm not!"
Noah's skin was naturally warm and tan, so his blushes didn't show easily, but whenever he got flustered, he instinctively looked away.
I didn't call him out on it. I didn't want to embarrass him further.
His voice softened, painfully earnest. "Chloe, I just worry about you. You don't look happy at all."
All the way through the end of the gala and into the private car ride home, Noah’s words echoed in my mind.
He said I didn't look happy. Was it really that obvious? Why hadn't Julian ever noticed?
I turned my head to look at my husband beside me. Julian had knocked back too many drinks again. Once we got home, a mountain of chores would be waiting for me.
I’d have to brew herbal hangover tea, help him strip down and shower, and stay half-awake all night just in case he choked on his own vomit.
I guess tonight wasn't the right night to bring up divorce either.
Julian’s head slumped heavily onto my shoulder. I asked him softly,
"Julian... I wasn't happy tonight. Did you notice?"
If he had just asked me what was wrong, or where the hurt was coming from—if he had shown even a shred of genuine care—I would have torn up the idea of leaving him.
Because God knew, I had loved him with all my heart once.
Instead, Julian chuckled, too lazy to even open his eyes.
"Chloe, you live a dream life because of me. Whatever you want, you get. Every woman in New York is jealous of you. What the hell could you possibly be unhappy about?"
In that brief second, I realized he wasn't drunk at all. That was his unfiltered truth.
He genuinely believed that marrying him was the greatest lottery ticket I could ever win.
The very last shred of my hope shattered into dust.People say a woman shouldn't expect too much from marriage; having either money or love should be enough.
But I couldn't accept that. That wasn't how Julian and I started.
When the Sterling family dragged him through the mud for being an illegitimate bastard, I stood right beside him, shielding him from their venom.
When he first started his business and had zero capital, I worked three part-time jobs, came up with every excuse to borrow cash from my family, and emptied my entire life savings just to hand him envelope after envelope of crumpled bills.
Or even earlier, back when we were innocent teenagers, I studied day and night to tutor him so we could get into the same university together.
He used to sit right behind me in homeroom, leaning against my desk, gently twirling strands of my hair.
I would rather have that fragile, broke kind of love—the sparklers Julian lit for me in that abandoned classroom, the midnight drives when he helped me sneak out of the dorms.
I didn't want any of this gilded, hollow "luxury" he shoved down my throat.
I drafted the divorce agreement. I didn't ask for his billions; I only asked for the modest townhouse we lived in when we first dated.
When I handed the papers to Julian, he actually laughed, thinking it was a joke.
"Chloe, did I do something wrong, or are you just so bored lately that you need a little dramatic foreplay?"
I sat on the couch, staring straight at him.
"The reason I'm bored is because after we got married, you forbade me from working. You trapped me in this penthouse."
"You're my wife! Why would I let you suffer working some corporate 9-to-5?"
"Then what about my friends? Why did you isolate me from everyone I knew?"
"Because you have me! That's all you need! Chloe, anyone trying to get close to you only wants something from me. They see you as Mrs. Sterling. They're just using you to pitch deals to me. Why would you want fake friends like that?"
I let out a dry, bitter laugh, my eyes burning. Julian finally sensed that something was terribly wrong, but he still looked utterly baffled.
"What is your problem? Is it the anniversary gift? Did you hate the necklace?"
Something in my chest snapped.
My eyes turned bloodshot as I glared at him.
"Yes! I hated it! I hate diamonds, I hate fireworks, and I hate overpriced steak! You do the exact same performative routine every single year!"
Julian shrugged, completely unfazed. "Is that all? Jesus, Chloe. If you're that upset, I'll throw you another anniversary dinner this weekend. Tell me what you want and I'll buy it. Is that worth threatening a divorce?"
"I’ve told you what I like hundreds of times! You just never cared to listen!"
"I'll listen next time. I swear." Julian grabbed my hand.
"Stop throwing a tantrum. Come to the Sterling estate for family dinner tonight. You know I despise those snobs. I need you by my side."
Hearing those words filled me with cold despair. Julian hated the Sterlings, but did he think I enjoyed being their punching bag?
I refused to go. Julian tried pulling and dragging me, but I didn't budge.
When the dinner hour passed, the family patriarch called Julian. Julian deliberately put it on speaker.
The voices blaring through the phone were dripping with mockery and disdain.
"Look at him, hitting it big and suddenly too good for the family. Skipping family dinner like he's royalty."
"A bastard will always be trash. And that cheap wife he married has zero manners."
"Julian is getting cocky. Mark my words, the higher he flies, the harder he'll crash..."
Julian hung up, pacing around the living room like a caged animal. I knew him too well. He was on the brink of an explosive rage.
Whenever things didn't go his way, this was how it started.
In the beginning, I could comfort him, and he would calm down quickly without lashing out at me.
Over time, his temper grew monstrous. Soothing him stopped working, and I became the collateral damage. Sometimes, things turned physical.
"Chloe! Did you hear how they talked about me?! It’s all because you refused to show up!"
"Why the hell are you acting so selfish today?! You used to care about me! If you had just behaved and come with me, would I have had to endure that humiliation?!"
I watched him coldly. "You can't even handle a few insults over the phone? When we went there every single month, the things they called me to my face were a thousand times worse."
"Back then, did you ever say a single word to defend me?"
"That was inside the Sterling house! It's different! In front of outsiders, haven't I protected you enough?!"
Ah. So Julian's legendary devotion to his wife was purely transactional.
When someone below him made a joke, he could play the outraged, romantic hero to boost his public image.
But in front of the powerful Sterlings, when I was dragged through the mud, he conveniently went deaf and blind.
"Julian. I want a divorce."
I reached for the divorce papers again. With a snarl of rage, he shoved me violently.
"Chloe, don't test me! Without me, you think you're anything more than dirt?!"

Chapters (3)

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3

Chapter 1

In the third year of my marriage to Julian, I fell in love with someone else. I was ready to burn everything to the ground just to break free from him. Everyone said I was crazy. Julian had finally clawed his way to the top of the tech world, yet right at the peak of his glory, I wanted a divorce just to run away with a broke nobody. Julian let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Chloe, marrying me was the smartest thing you’ve ever done in your pathetic life. And now you want to throw it all away?" I looked him dead in the eye and said calmly, "Yes. I don't want you anymore." Before the words fully left my mouth, an ashtray flew across the room and shattered against my temple. Blood trickled down my forehead as Julian roared. "Chloe, don't you dare come crawling back crying!" I wouldn't. Years later, it was Julian who called me at midnight, sobbing hysterically, begging me to come back. By then, another man was kissing the scar on my temple, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. "Chloe... all those stolen years... what on earth did he put you through?" There were countless rumors about Julian in New York. He was the illegitimate son of the Sterling family, cast aside and despised in his youth. But once he grew up, he brutally fought for his place among the heirs, only to turn his back on the Sterling empire to build his own startup. He quickly became the city’s newest billionaire, adored by everyone. The tabloids painted him as an unstoppable self-made king. It sounded like an exaggeration, but I knew it was all true. I had known him since high school. Julian was fiercely ambitious, dangerously competent, and proud to a fault. Even in the most superficial social circles, he shone brighter than anyone else. Because of his fame, there was another rumor that followed him everywhere: how madly in love he was with his wife. People said we were high school sweethearts who survived the hardest struggles together, and even after striking gold, he never abandoned his high school sweetheart. Once, an investor made a crude joke about me. Julian flipped the table on the spot, cut ties with him immediately, and practically crushed the guy’s business in the industry. He spent millions spoiling me, buying up designer clothes and jewelry across the city, declaring to the world that his wife deserved nothing but the absolute best. Those rumors were true, too. Because I was that wife. For our third wedding anniversary, Julian booked an entire rooftop restaurant in Manhattan. Fine red wine, fireworks bursting across the night sky, and a massive diamond necklace he personally picked out for me. It was dripping with textbook romance. He leaned in, fastening the cold necklace around my neck, and pressed a kiss to my forehead. His eyes gleamed behind his glasses as he whispered, "Chloe, you're breathtaking." I gave him a faint smile. And that was the exact moment Noah walked into my life again. He was working as a server at the restaurant, and he "accidentally" spilled a newly decanted glass of Cabernet all over Julian’s shirt. Julian frowned, quickly told me to stay put, and rushed to the restroom to clean up. Left alone, my eyes locked with Noah’s. He still had those deep, soulful eyes that looked gentle no matter who he stared at, yet the words out of his mouth were stiff and rough. "Chloe. Have you been happy all these years?" "As you can see. I'm doing great." "Liar. You hate that necklace Julian just gave you. But you didn’t say a damn word." The smile slipped from my face. He was right. I despised flashy, meaningless trinkets. If I had to wear jewelry, I preferred simple jade or understated raw gemstones. Something quiet. Something gentle. Noah pressed his lips tightly together. His gaze was tense, stubborn, and completely fixed on me—just like back in high school. Julian didn't recognize him at all. To Julian, Noah was just the poor kid on financial aid from our old class. But the second Noah and I made eye contact, we knew each other instantly. I whispered, "Julian will be back any second. What else do you want to say?" Noah pulled out his phone without hesitation and had me scan his SnapChat. When Julian returned in a fresh shirt, I couldn't help but chuckle. He asked me what was so funny, and I just shook my head in silence. I was honestly wondering: if Julian knew that while he was gone, I had just reconnected with the boy I used to have a crush on, would his head explode with rage? For the rest of the dinner, Noah stood quietly to the side, but his gaze never left me. He watched me force down a meal I didn't like. He watched Julian wrap his arms around me. And I watched Julian. I watched his rehearsed, repetitive routine of "deep love" that hadn't changed in three years. He never bothered to put any real thought into getting me something I actually wanted. Every holiday, every anniversary: it was always fancy steak, fireworks, and an overpriced diamond necklace. Right then and there, the thought of divorcing him flashed through my mind once again.

Chapter 2

The second time I saw Noah was at a charity gala I attended with Julian. Noah was still working as a catering server. After that rooftop dinner, I hadn't texted him. But I did ask around about his life. His grandmother had passed away. He was all alone in the world now. Financially, his life was much easier than it had been in high school, but he was still addicted to working odd jobs, keeping every minute of his day packed. Noah discreetly swapped the glass of champagne on his tray for sparkling berry juice and handed it to me, quietly sliding a plate of strawberry mousse in front of me as well. It was a silent, gentle gesture. Of course, at an event like this, no one came for the food. I stood there in the couture gown Julian had selected for me, enduring the judging stares of high society. I listened to everyone sucking up to Julian, tossing me a few flattering scraps along the way. "Go mingle, Chloe. I have some business to handle. I'll come find you in a bit." Julian patted my head like I was a golden retriever. The executives standing opposite him immediately chimed in with praises. "Mr. Sterling treats his wife like an absolute princess! You spoil her rotten." Julian loved praise. He fed on it. He chuckled warmly and replied, "I can't help it. Every time I look at her, I still see that cute high school girl. I guess I treat her like a kid sometimes. Excuse my indulgence, gentlemen." The group laughed and walked away. Noah silently stepped up beside me. "If you hate these parties, why do you even come?" "I’m Julian’s wife. Showing up at these networking galas is part of my job." "So he can just dump you in a corner alone where you don't know a single soul?" I looked up at Noah, keeping my face blank. "Since when did you get so chatty? Trying to stir up trouble in my marriage?" "I'm not!" Noah's skin was naturally warm and tan, so his blushes didn't show easily, but whenever he got flustered, he instinctively looked away. I didn't call him out on it. I didn't want to embarrass him further. His voice softened, painfully earnest. "Chloe, I just worry about you. You don't look happy at all." All the way through the end of the gala and into the private car ride home, Noah’s words echoed in my mind. He said I didn't look happy. Was it really that obvious? Why hadn't Julian ever noticed? I turned my head to look at my husband beside me. Julian had knocked back too many drinks again. Once we got home, a mountain of chores would be waiting for me. I’d have to brew herbal hangover tea, help him strip down and shower, and stay half-awake all night just in case he choked on his own vomit. I guess tonight wasn't the right night to bring up divorce either. Julian’s head slumped heavily onto my shoulder. I asked him softly, "Julian... I wasn't happy tonight. Did you notice?" If he had just asked me what was wrong, or where the hurt was coming from—if he had shown even a shred of genuine care—I would have torn up the idea of leaving him. Because God knew, I had loved him with all my heart once. Instead, Julian chuckled, too lazy to even open his eyes. "Chloe, you live a dream life because of me. Whatever you want, you get. Every woman in New York is jealous of you. What the hell could you possibly be unhappy about?" In that brief second, I realized he wasn't drunk at all. That was his unfiltered truth. He genuinely believed that marrying him was the greatest lottery ticket I could ever win. The very last shred of my hope shattered into dust.

Chapter 3

People say a woman shouldn't expect too much from marriage; having either money or love should be enough. But I couldn't accept that. That wasn't how Julian and I started. When the Sterling family dragged him through the mud for being an illegitimate bastard, I stood right beside him, shielding him from their venom. When he first started his business and had zero capital, I worked three part-time jobs, came up with every excuse to borrow cash from my family, and emptied my entire life savings just to hand him envelope after envelope of crumpled bills. Or even earlier, back when we were innocent teenagers, I studied day and night to tutor him so we could get into the same university together. He used to sit right behind me in homeroom, leaning against my desk, gently twirling strands of my hair. I would rather have that fragile, broke kind of love—the sparklers Julian lit for me in that abandoned classroom, the midnight drives when he helped me sneak out of the dorms. I didn't want any of this gilded, hollow "luxury" he shoved down my throat. I drafted the divorce agreement. I didn't ask for his billions; I only asked for the modest townhouse we lived in when we first dated. When I handed the papers to Julian, he actually laughed, thinking it was a joke. "Chloe, did I do something wrong, or are you just so bored lately that you need a little dramatic foreplay?" I sat on the couch, staring straight at him. "The reason I'm bored is because after we got married, you forbade me from working. You trapped me in this penthouse." "You're my wife! Why would I let you suffer working some corporate 9-to-5?" "Then what about my friends? Why did you isolate me from everyone I knew?" "Because you have me! That's all you need! Chloe, anyone trying to get close to you only wants something from me. They see you as Mrs. Sterling. They're just using you to pitch deals to me. Why would you want fake friends like that?" I let out a dry, bitter laugh, my eyes burning. Julian finally sensed that something was terribly wrong, but he still looked utterly baffled. "What is your problem? Is it the anniversary gift? Did you hate the necklace?" Something in my chest snapped. My eyes turned bloodshot as I glared at him. "Yes! I hated it! I hate diamonds, I hate fireworks, and I hate overpriced steak! You do the exact same performative routine every single year!" Julian shrugged, completely unfazed. "Is that all? Jesus, Chloe. If you're that upset, I'll throw you another anniversary dinner this weekend. Tell me what you want and I'll buy it. Is that worth threatening a divorce?" "I’ve told you what I like hundreds of times! You just never cared to listen!" "I'll listen next time. I swear." Julian grabbed my hand. "Stop throwing a tantrum. Come to the Sterling estate for family dinner tonight. You know I despise those snobs. I need you by my side." Hearing those words filled me with cold despair. Julian hated the Sterlings, but did he think I enjoyed being their punching bag? I refused to go. Julian tried pulling and dragging me, but I didn't budge. When the dinner hour passed, the family patriarch called Julian. Julian deliberately put it on speaker. The voices blaring through the phone were dripping with mockery and disdain. "Look at him, hitting it big and suddenly too good for the family. Skipping family dinner like he's royalty." "A bastard will always be trash. And that cheap wife he married has zero manners." "Julian is getting cocky. Mark my words, the higher he flies, the harder he'll crash..." Julian hung up, pacing around the living room like a caged animal. I knew him too well. He was on the brink of an explosive rage. Whenever things didn't go his way, this was how it started. In the beginning, I could comfort him, and he would calm down quickly without lashing out at me. Over time, his temper grew monstrous. Soothing him stopped working, and I became the collateral damage. Sometimes, things turned physical. "Chloe! Did you hear how they talked about me?! It’s all because you refused to show up!" "Why the hell are you acting so selfish today?! You used to care about me! If you had just behaved and come with me, would I have had to endure that humiliation?!" I watched him coldly. "You can't even handle a few insults over the phone? When we went there every single month, the things they called me to my face were a thousand times worse." "Back then, did you ever say a single word to defend me?" "That was inside the Sterling house! It's different! In front of outsiders, haven't I protected you enough?!" Ah. So Julian's legendary devotion to his wife was purely transactional. When someone below him made a joke, he could play the outraged, romantic hero to boost his public image. But in front of the powerful Sterlings, when I was dragged through the mud, he conveniently went deaf and blind. "Julian. I want a divorce." I reached for the divorce papers again. With a snarl of rage, he shoved me violently. "Chloe, don't test me! Without me, you think you're anything more than dirt?!"

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