When my wife brought her lover home for the fifth time, I decided enough was enough. I said nothing, not a word of complaint or protest. Instead, I superglued the windows shut and locked the bedroom door from the outside. From the bedroom came the muffled sounds of her little escapade, breathless and feverish, carrying through the walls like a shameful melody no one asked to hear. Calmly, I sat in the living room, picked up the phone, and called my mother-in-law. "Jessie," I said, putting on my best tone of urgency, "it's bad—real bad! Your daughter's locked herself in the bedroom and says she's gonna end it all!"
View MoreBut traps are always set for the greedy, and greed never lets a man walk away unscathed. Just when he was ready to let things crumble and leave it all to rot, Rachel sought him out again. This time, she came willingly, offering herself once more—but not out of love or remorse. She was greedy and wanted to tease out the truth of how much wealth he might still have hidden away. He played along, forging bank statements and property deeds to make her believe he had a chance at rising from the ashes. Believing his lies, she surrendered herself again, even agreeing to bear his child, all in the hope of securing a future that didn't exist.The cruel reality was that he was drowning in debt. Even the roof over his head was rented, nothing more than a borrowed façade. When Jessie uncovered the truth, she broke down completely, collapsing in a storm of tears. Cradling the child in her arms, her mind wandered back twenty years to the child she'd killed—delicate, innocent, much like this
When Tommy was arrested as a defaulter, Rachel was in the hospital awaiting the birth of her child. Despite everything, he stubbornly refused to sign the divorce papers, leaving Rachel saddled with his mountain of debt. The news reached Rachel just as she gave birth, and in her sorrow and anger, complications arose. She suffered severe bleeding, and her womb had to be removed to save her life. Jessie, overwhelmed by the calamity, brought Rachel and the newborn back home. While sorting through the legal documents to register the child, she stumbled upon Tommy's information, shoved in a forgotten corner. The name on it stopped her cold. Tony Statham. That name was burned into her memory, like a ghost from the past she thought she'd never face again.Years ago, Tony had come to her, pleading for mercy on behalf of his wife, who was also her husband's mistress. He had begged her to spare the unborn child, promising to take his wife and leave the city forever. But Jessie's ange
One day, while I was working late at the office, Rachel showed up unannounced. She'd been out of work for over half a year, her reputation tarnished beyond repair. No company was willing to take on an employee with her questionable character. Carrying a lunchbox in hand, she approached me with a timid smile."Darling," she said, "I made your favorite—beef brisket. Just take one bite. If you like it, I'll make it for you every day." I pushed the lunchbox aside. "Sorry, but you're in my way. And let me remind you—we're divorced." Her face stiffened, but she pressed on. "But I know you still care about me." "Do I?" I asked, voice flat. "Of course you do. Look, you haven't even started dating anyone else yet!" I couldn't help but let out a cold laugh before turning away.As I walked off, she threw the lunchbox on the floor and yelled at me, "Chris, it was just twice! I only slept with him twice! Is it really such a big deal? I made you your favorite food as an apology, isn't
The company group chat and family group chat exploded like a beehive hit with a stick. Before Tommy even reached the office, his dirty laundry had already spread like wildfire. The company was already struggling—poor performance coupled with malicious competition had driven away most of its partners. Now, in this gossip-fueled society, his scandal spread far and wide. For the sake of their reputation, most remaining collaborators decided to cut ties and return their shipments. The company was plunged into a dire financial crisis. Meanwhile, Fiona used her legal expertise to transfer the bulk of their marital assets elsewhere. Despite Tommy's repeated pleas, she left without a backward glance. Desperate to cover the company's losses, he had no choice but to sell his one remaining property. Alas, it was nothing but a drop in the ocean. While Tommy floundered, I joined a new company. Strangely enough, my situation earned my new firm a sliver of sympathy online, turning it into a
Desmond sensed the storm brewing and quickly backed out of the room. He caught sight of my phone, still recording the video, and scratched his head awkwardly. "Ah, uh, Chris, about that video… maybe just delete it, yeah? I, uh… I think I'll be heading off now." I let out a cold chuckle and tapped save on the video. Without a moment's hesitation, I sent it to both the company group chat and the family group chat, then promptly exited them both. With an air of manufactured fury, I stormed out of the bedroom and collapsed onto the sofa, burying my head in my hands. "Get on your knees and apologize to Chris!"The voice cut through my thoughts as Jessie pulled Rachel out of the bedroom. Rachel, draped in an ill-fitting garment—clearly borrowed—shuffled toward me, trembling. "Darling, please, you've got to believe me," she stammered, her voice breaking. "Tommy and I… it was nothing but a fleeting mistake! I swear, you're the one I love… it's just, well, the window wouldn't open
Just as Fiona hammered away at the door with unrelenting force, the sound of approaching footsteps made everyone pause. Randy entered, followed by Desmond from the tech department.Now, Desmond wasn't your average locksmith. His skills were legendary—he'd once cracked reinforced security doors at high-tech laboratories. Compared to that, my bedroom door might as well have been a flimsy wooden crate. He was about to start picking the lock when he hesitated and cast a cautious glance at me. I stared back at him, confused. "It's all right, Desmond," I said. "If the door gets broken in the process, I won't hold you accountable for it." Desmond shook his head. "It's not that, young man. In my line of work, I've learned to be extra careful. This is a private residence, and I need solid proof I was authorized to break in. Otherwise, if someone accuses me of trespassing or vandalism, I could end up in hot water." "We're all witnesses! You've got nothing to worry about," Margaret and J
Jessie slammed the phone down on the sofa."Fiona, I told you long ago that your husband was bad news! Didn't I warn you to keep an eye on him? How could you let this happen? He's old enough to be my daughter's father, and now he's coming after my girl!"Fiona fired back without hesitation. "What are you talking about? This is your daughter's house. If she hadn't invited him in, how would Tommy have even gotten the chance? Look at the way she's dressed—what's the difference between that and a prostitute?""You take that back, right now!" Jessie yelled, her face red with fury. "Say it again, and I'll rip your mouth off!""I'm not wrong. Look at her attitude. She acts all high and mighty, but I never realized just how trashy she really is!" Fiona snapped.Jessie wasn't having it. "And you're defending Tommy? Do you even know how old he is? He could be her father! And you're telling me he's innocent in all this?"Jessie lunged at Fiona, grabbing her hair. The two women went at it, t
"They're here, they're here! I've received the video footage!" At Betsy's shout, everyone rushed over. Margaret gave me a sharp, resentful glance, as if to say, "Just you wait!" I picked up the teacup on the table and took a sip. Before I could even set the cup back down, Jessie slapped the phone out of Betsy's hand. "What's this nonsense? A fake, I bet. How can this be Rachel? Betsy, have you been bribed by Chris? This is fake, isn't it?" Betsy, looking defiant, replied, "What are you talking about? This is the footage my friend sent me from the fixed surveillance. It can't be wrong and it sure can't be fake!" "Well, it's wrong then! Look again, that's Rachel in it!"Betsy snatched the phone back. "You're right. That's Rachel! So that means Rachel is the one who's cheating! Look at what she's wearing—doesn't that match what was on the sofa?" It was true. Rachel wasn't the type to wear such flashy clothes—red tight skirts and black stockings. Not to mention Jessie, e
A few days ago, I did indeed ask Betsy to help me with fixing the surveillance cameras. It was Rachel who had broken them, and she'd been putting off repairing them for ages. When she wasn't looking, I took the cameras down and gave them to Betsy, asking her to find someone to fix them. The plan was simple: to let Rachel see the footage. And sure enough, she fell right into the trap. I grabbed the phone and tried to explain, "No, this isn't…" Slap! Jessie slapped me in the face. "Chris, why won't you admit it!" I struggled to explain, "Mom, I really didn't do this!" "Not you? Who else could it be? Are you saying Rachel was the one who was cheating? I've seen all her clothes and I know the clothes in the photos aren't hers! Look at these black stockings, and this skirt—do you really think she would wear those? "Chris, when you married her, what did you promise? Now you're cheating on her—do you even remember your vows? "No wonder Rachel is having suicidal thoughts!
I bought myself a tube of superglue and went about sealing every last window in the bedroom. Not a crack was left open to the outside world. When I finished sealing the final window, I pulled out my phone and dialed my wife's number. "Rach," I said, calm and steady, "I've got a business trip today. Might be out of town for a couple of days." My wife, Rachel Fraser, gave me a quick reply—so quick she could hardly wait to hang up. Before I knew it, the call was done. I glanced at my phone again, this time at the message from my new employer about my new job. With barely a thought, I sent back a simple reply: [I accept.]A look at the clock told me it was just about time for her to be heading home from work. I packed a few changes of clothes, stuffed them into a suitcase, and wheeled it upstairs into the storage room. That room had one particular advantage: from there, I could see everything happening downstairs, clear as day. I waited. About half an hour later, the sound of
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