Elias and I had been married for ten years when my husband found the love of his life.

He claimed she had a pure soul. He said she wasn’t interested in money.

I turned to my assistant Brenda and told her to cancel his credit cards, suspend his prescription refills, and change the locks.

The love of his life was about to get exactly what he wished for.

I sat at my vanity, observing the woman in the mirror.

At thirty-five, the corners of my eyes already showed faint wrinkles. The trails of sleepless nights spent worrying over the company’s accounts, the illness of my mother-in-law, and my husband’s endless research projects.

Today, I chose a silk dress in deep plum—a shade both profound and powerful, much like my current standing in my family and the business world.

Today was my tenth wedding anniversary with Elias.

People always say that a wife’s devotion never goes unrewarded. I had clung to that phrase for a full decade.

I went from being the spoiled daughter of a wealthy family to marrying Elias, a struggling university professor with heavy family obligations.

My parents had vehemently opposed the marriage back then. My mother told me that marrying a poor man wasn’t the problem. The problem was marrying into an in-law family who didn’t know the value of anything.

I was young then. I believed in love, in Elias’s kindness and intellect.

So I turned a deaf ear to everything.

I used my entire inheritance and business acumen to build the empire we have today, simultaneously lifting my husband’s entire family out of the swamp of poverty.

I opened a drawer and pulled out a luxurious red velvet box. Inside was a Rolex Daytona watch I had custom-ordered six months ago. Elias often complained that the worn leather strap on his old timepiece wasn’t elegant enough to wear while teaching or meeting with partners.

I remembered every word he said. Every frown.

To me, Elias wasn’t just my husband. He was the intellectual pride I had always revered. As a businesswoman who smelled of money, I appreciated the learned, noble heir of an academic like him.

My phone rang.

It was Brenda’s voice on the line. “Mrs. Dixon, everything is set up at the Eagle’s Nest Campus Pub at Georgetown University. The chef confirms he prepared the classic steak and cheese subs exactly as you requested—with the old school flavor.”

I smiled and replied, “Perfect. Thank you, Brenda. I’ll head over right away. Don’t let Elias catch wind of this. I want it to be a surprise.”

I tucked the watch box into my purse, my heart pounding like it did during the first days of our love.

Instead of the fancy candlelit restaurants favored by high society, I decided to celebrate our anniversary right where it all began—the old university pub.

Ten years ago, our wedding reception was held there. We were so poor then, just a few tables with simple food. The bride and groom had mud-splattered shoes because it was pouring rain.

But amidst all that hardship, I will never forget the look on Elias’s face—full of gratitude and promises.

He took my hand and swore in front of our friends, “Naomi, suffer with me now, and when I succeed, I will repay you a thousand times over.”

I engraved that vow on my heart.

I didn’t need to be repaid with gold and silver. I only needed his unconditional love.

I drove my luxury sedan out of the garage of our Potomac villa. This house was the blood, sweat, and tears of my last ten years. Every brick, every tree in the garden had been cared for by my own hands.

I thought of Vivien, my mother-in-law, who had just escaped death thanks to a kidney I had searched high and low for—spending nearly two million dollars to secure the operation.

I thought of Tiffany, my capricious and wasteful sister-in-law, who asked me for money every month to buy designer bags and go partying.

I protected them not because I had money to spare, but because I loved Elias. I wanted him to concentrate on his work without worrying about basic needs.

The streets of Washington, D.C., were busy at sunset, but my heart felt light.

I imagined Elias’s surprised face when he saw me appear at the old pub. He would surely be moved. He had always been a nostalgic, sentimental man.

The car drove along familiar streets, taking me back to the old campus. The ancient oak trees were still there—silent witnesses to so many generations of students.

I parked in a discreet corner, fixed my dress, and reapplied some red lipstick. I wanted to look radiant, to show Elias that despite the passing of time and economic pressure, his wife still kept her beauty and charm.

I got out of the car, and a soft evening breeze rustled my silk skirt.

A nervous sensation gripped my chest.

I hadn’t told Elias. I had just sent him a text saying I had a late business dinner and he should eat without me. In reality, I had contacted an old familiar janitor, asking him to open the pub at this hour.

With the gift box in hand, I walked down the moss-covered cobblestone path leading to the pub.

Scenes from our memories played in my mind. Back then, an eight-dollar plate of subs was the greatest luxury Elias could offer me. We shared every bite, giving each other the choicest cuts of meat.

How could that impoverished past have been so beautiful and meaningful?

I couldn’t have imagined that the place holding the most beautiful memories of my life would today become the tomb of my ten-year marriage.

The pub’s wooden door, with its peeling paint, was slightly ajar, casting a faint strip of yellow light. I smiled, thinking the janitor had already turned on the light, waiting for me.

But no. Something wasn’t right.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw the familiar black Mercedes parked discreetly behind a hedge of withered oleanders.

It was the car I had gifted Elias last month to celebrate his doctoral thesis defense.

Why was his car here? Did he also remember our anniversary and want to surprise me?

The thought comforted me slightly. Maybe my husband and I were truly connected.

I tiptoed closer, planning to startle him like in our playful student days. But as I approached, the intuition of an experienced woman made my steps heavy.

There was no music or atmosphere of a party in preparation. Just a terrifying silence that enveloped everything, broken occasionally by the wind whistling through the cracks in the door.

I decided not to enter through the front. I circled the building toward the back entrance, which led to the kitchen. I used to sneak in this way to give Elias extra meal vouchers when he ran out of money at the end of the month.

The rusted kitchen door was slightly open. The damp smell of the old whitewashed walls hit my nose, mixed with an unfamiliar perfume fragrance—so sweet and penetrating that it was cloying.

And then I heard laughter.

It wasn’t the cheerful laughter of a group of friends, but the flirtatious giggles of a young woman interspersed with the deep, warm voice I had listened to for the past ten years.

My husband’s voice.

“You are such a tease. Why did you invite me to this god-forsaken place?”

“It’s safer here. More intimate, sweetheart. Besides, this place holds a lot of memories. I want to create new memories with you. Erase all the old, outdated ones.”

Elias’s words were like a bucket of ice water thrown directly in my face—a coldness that chilled me to the bone.

I stood frozen, gripping the red velvet box so tightly that my nails dug into my palm, causing a sharp pain. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the knife that had just shattered my heart.

Erase all the old, outdated ones.

It turned out that my ten years of youth, ten years of sacrifice, ten years of sharing sorrow and joy were nothing but old things to be erased in his eyes.

I held my breath and pressed against the grease-stained wall, trying to catch every word. I needed to know who this woman was and how corrupted my husband—the erudite and exemplary spouse—had become.

The darkness of the kitchen corner seemed to swallow me, but it was that same darkness that helped me see the true face of the man I had once revered.

A clumsy and cruel play was about to draw its curtain.

I hid behind the worn pine door that separated the kitchen from the main dining room. The narrow crack barely allowed my gaze through, but it was enough to capture the entire scene inside.

Under the yellowish light of an old filament bulb, Elias was sitting in one of those familiar blue plastic chairs.

But he wasn’t alone.

In his lap was a thin young woman with long, loose black hair. She wore a white uniform shirt and an excessively short skirt, snuggling against my husband’s chest.

The hands I used to hold every night—the hands I had cared for from every scratch—were now caressing the bare back of another woman.

A tightness gripped my chest as if someone were strangling me. The blood rushed to my head, but the rationality of a seasoned businesswoman forced me to remain calm. I couldn’t break down now. I had to see. I had to hear everything.

“Elias,” the girl’s voice sounded saccharine and cloying like sugar. But in my ears, it sounded as rancid as rotten fish. “The deadline to pay tuition is almost here, and my mom back in Mississippi is very sick. I don’t know how I’m going to manage. I think I’ll have to take a semester off.”

Elias hugged her tighter. His voice was filled with a compassion and tenderness he hadn’t shown me in a long time.

“You little silly. With me here, why worry about money? You focus on studying. I’ll take care of your mother’s illness and your tuition. You’re a talent. You’re my muse. I won’t let you be stained by the dust of the world.”

“But where will you get the money? I heard your wife controls the finances very strictly. Does she know you’re helping me?”

At the mention of me, Elias’s voice suddenly changed. There was no longer tenderness, but a startling resentment and contempt.

“Don’t mention that bitter old woman. She ruins my mood. What does she know? Apart from money and more money—all day with her head buried in account books, calculating losses and gains. She’s such a materialistic person. So dry. Every time she opens her mouth, it’s to talk about projects and contracts. Next to her, I feel as suffocated as I do in a jail cell.”

I bit my lip until it bled.

Bitter old woman. Materialistic. Dry.

That materialistic money bought the medicine for his mother, the car he drove, the house he lived in, and even the doctorate he proudly held. Those dry account books were the only thing that had prevented his family from starving and being scorned by the world.

The girl giggled with a slightly triumphant tone. “Well, she seems very capable to me. Besides, she takes very good care of your family. I heard she even funds scholarships for our university. Actually, I’m receiving a scholarship from her company.”

Her words were like a lightning bolt through my mind.

A scholarship from my company.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to get a better look at the girl’s face. Under the dim light, her oval face and large, innocent eyes began to look familiar.

It was Chloe. Chloe Miller—the senior English major whom I myself had signed off to receive the ten-thousand-dollar merit and financial hardship scholarship earlier this year.

I remembered it clearly because her file included a touching story about her humble family background and great determination. When I presented her with the award, she had taken my hand with tearful eyes and said, “Thank you, Mrs. Dixon. You are the benefactor of my life. I will follow your example to become a successful woman.”

It turned out she was following my example by stealing my husband.

She used my own money to fix herself up, shop, and then use that false appearance of innocence to seduce her benefactor’s husband.

The sheer audacity of this situation surpassed my imagination.

Elias let out a mocking laugh, stroking Chloe’s hair. “Her money is my money, too. Do you think she’s so brilliant? Without my moral support, without me handling the internal and external relations, how could she quietly earn money? She’s just a bill-printing machine.”

“But you, Chloe—you are the soul, the true love of my life. You are pure, kind-hearted. You understand poetry, music, art. You understand the worries of an intellectual like me. When she comes home, she just smells like money. Like expensive, cloying perfumes. I feel sick just smelling it.”

Sick.

Those two words echoed in my head. I wore that expensive perfume because he once said it was elegant. For whom was I wearing myself out working to earn money?

I looked at the gift box in my hand. The shining Rolex seemed to mock me. My sincerity, my ten years of love—were now compared by the man I shared my life with to a gold-digging student and ruthlessly trampled.

The rage inside me didn’t burst out like a scorching fire. Instead, it became cold and sharp as ice.

I felt pity for myself and disgust for the two of them performing their romantic farce inside. All the affection, all the respect I felt for Elias vanished completely in that instant.

I took a deep breath, swallowing my tears.

The Naomi of before—the naive student who believed in a cabin and two hearts—was dead. Now standing here was Naomi Dixon, the CEO of the Anchor Group.

I wouldn’t allow anyone to trample on my pride.

I gently placed the gift box on the dusty kitchen counter. I didn’t need it anymore.

I fixed my hair and straightened my dress. I would walk in there not to make a jealous scene like a common woman, but to teach them a lesson about the price of betrayal.

I stepped forward and delivered a strong kick to the wooden door.

The dry, resounding crash shattered the intimate atmosphere inside.

The noise made the adulterous couple jump. Chloe gasped and quickly shoved Elias off her, awkwardly fixing the collar of her unbuttoned shirt. Elias, for his part, was pale as a ghost, his eyes wide, staring at the door as if he had seen a phantom.

I stood there in the doorway, my shadow stretching long across the old tile floor. My gaze was icy, sweeping over the two of them, who were trembling like rats in a spotlighted sewer.

“Naomi.” Elias’s voice trembled, stammering, unable to form words. “What—what are you doing here?”

I didn’t answer immediately. I walked in calmly. The sound of my heels against the tiles was steady and firm, like a judge’s gavel about to deliver a sentence.

I went straight to the plastic table. I pulled out a chair opposite them and sat down, crossing my legs with the same elegance and confidence as if I were in the boardroom.

“Surprised?” I gave a smile—a smile I knew was more terrifying than weeping. “Isn’t today our tenth wedding anniversary? I came to reminisce about old times, and look what I found. A truly entertaining play.”

Chloe had already recognized me. Her face was ashen, drained of blood. She quickly lowered her head, wringing her hands, and timidly hid behind Elias. “Mrs. Dixon, I’m sorry—”

“Be quiet.” My voice was a whisper, but authoritative enough to silence her. “I didn’t give you permission to speak.”

I turned to Elias—the man whose tie I had lovingly knotted that very morning before he went to work. Now seeing his disheveled appearance, sweating profusely with fear, I only felt profound contempt for his cowardice.

“What were you saying a moment ago?” I tilted my head, pretending to think. “Old, bitter, materialistic, dry, only understands money. Elias, for the last ten years, this old woman has supported your entire family. From food and shelter to your fake honor.”

He opened his mouth, but I wasn’t finished.

“You say my money disgusts you. Yet you accept it promptly every month. The car you drive, the suits you wear, even the underwear you have on—is there anything that wasn’t bought with my nauseating money?”

After the initial panic, Elias seemed to regain some composure. The wounded pride of someone who considers himself an intellectual awoke. He jumped up, fixed his clothes, trying to recover his usual air of dignity.

“Don’t think that just because you have money, you can come here and lecture me about life.” Elias growled, his face red. “You were spying on me. You hired someone to follow me, didn’t you? I knew it. Living with you is like being in a jail cell. You never respect my privacy.”

I burst into laughter—a bitter laugh that echoed in the empty room.

“Privacy? You call having an affair with a student and using your wife’s money to support your mistress privacy? Elias, you’re a doctor, a university professor, and your logic is worse than a three-year-old’s.”

I leaned forward.

“I don’t need to spy on you. Heaven has eyes, darling. I came here to surprise you. But the surprise you gave me is too big. I can’t swallow it.”

I directed my gaze at Chloe, who was still cowering behind Elias.

“And you, Chloe Miller—brilliant student, a role model for overcoming adversity.” I emphasized every word. “You receive my scholarship. You accept my sponsorship, and you repay me by sleeping with my husband. Is that the moral you’ve learned in life?”

Chloe suddenly raised her head, her eyes full of tears—a look that would make any man want to protect her, but which only produced disgust in me.

“Mrs. Dixon, don’t insult me. Professor Whitlock and I are together out of true love. We have a spiritual connection. I don’t need your money. I love him for who he is.”

“What great true love,” I clapped sarcastically. “You don’t need money? And who was just complaining about poverty, asking for tuition money? Who was asking for money to cure their mother back in Mississippi? Are you taking me for a fool?”

I stood up and circled the table slowly.

“If Elias were a broke DoorDash driver, would you have a spiritual connection with him? Or did you set your sights on his professor title and the shiny Mercedes he drives?”

Elias, seeing his little mistress cornered, stepped in to protect her, glaring at me furiously. “Shut up. Don’t you dare judge Chloe with your trashy manners. She is a thousand times purer and holier than you are. Look at yourself—always talking about money. Did you ever stop to understand what I needed? What I thought? Chloe gives me inspiration. She makes me feel like a real man. Not like a kept man—which is how I feel next to you.”

Kept man.

I stood up to face Elias directly. I wasn’t as tall as him, but my aura in that moment made him step back.

“So you finally admit you’re a kept man. Very good. If you are so sick of this suffocating life, so sick of this wife who smells of money, then let’s set each other free.”

I looked him directly in the eyes, declaring every word firmly.

“Tomorrow, I will file for divorce. You and your true love—go ahead and enjoy a life without the smell of money. Let’s see if your noble souls can feed you.”

With that, I turned and walked away, not bothering to look at the astonished faces I left behind.

But just as I reached the door, I saw two familiar figures rushing toward the entrance.

It was Vivien and Tiffany—the entire in-law family.

The play, it seemed, had not ended. The most exciting act had just begun.

Vivien and Tiffany appeared at the door, impeccably dressed and perfumed. They had probably also come to attend the supposed anniversary party I had prepared so meticulously.

But instead of a congratulatory smile, they found me confronting Elias and Chloe in a powder-keg atmosphere.

Seeing Chloe hiding behind their son, Vivien’s gaze wavered slightly. I knew very well that Chloe was no stranger to her. I had once seen a message from Chloe asking my mother-in-law about her health very familiarly. It turned out they had been seeing each other in secret.

The only fool who had been kept in the dark was me.

I looked directly at Vivien and greeted her with mordant irony. “Mom, Tiffany—you arrived just in time. Come in and see the wonderful play your dear son and brother is performing.”

Before Vivien could say anything, Elias stepped forward, completely changing his tone, adopting the attitude of an aggrieved victim. “Mom, look at her. She came here to cause a scandal, to insult Chloe and me. She thinks that because she has money, she can trample on this whole family. I can’t take it anymore.”

Tiffany, my sister-in-law, with her brassy blonde hair, shot me a sidelong glance and rushed to her brother’s side. “Naomi, what is all this fuss about? My brother is a university professor—a person with status. Have some respect for his image. If there’s a problem, we talk about it at home behind closed doors. Why air the dirty laundry in public?”

I laughed. A cold laugh that resonated throughout the room.

“Respect for his image? Ask your brother if he cared about his image when he brought his mistress to this very pub to fool around. Look closely—this is Chloe, the student I sponsor with a scholarship. Your brother is sleeping with the very person who is indebted to his wife. Does that seem very honorable to you?”

Vivien finally walked in slowly. She showed neither surprise nor anger toward her son. On the contrary, she looked at me with an expression of reproach—the same look I had received for ten years every time I didn’t fulfill her desires.

“Naomi, as a wife, you have to know how to be patient. It’s normal for a man to have multiple women. If Elias goes out to have a little fun, it’s just to release work stress. If, as a wife, you don’t know how to keep your husband and you let him seek happiness outside, the fault is yours. You can’t blame anyone else.”

I was petrified.

My ears buzzed at my mother-in-law’s sickening logic. I—the devoted daughter-in-law who had sold my own mother’s jewelry to pay for her medical treatment. Now, in her eyes, I was only a woman who didn’t know how to keep her husband.

“How can you say that, Mom?” I retorted with a contained voice. “I’ve sacrificed everything for this family, and in return I receive this blatant betrayal. Who took care of you when you were sick? Who paid Tiffany’s debts? Where did the money come from for the big, beautiful house you live in?”

Vivien made a face and waved her hand as if swatting an insect. “Oh, please. Don’t bring up the topic of money to throw it in our faces as if your money were so important. My family, although poor, has principles and values. We value affection, not money like yours. Elias is a genius—one of a kind. He needs a wife who understands him, with whom he has harmony, who supports him. Not a cheap merchant who only knows how to calculate.”

Chloe, seeing she had allies, stepped out from behind Elias, her eyes full of tears. “Mrs. Whitlock is right. I love Professor Whitlock very much. He feels lonely in his own house. Naomi, please let him go. We truly love each other. Please give us your blessing.”

I looked at the three shameless faces in front of me—a traitorous husband, an ungrateful mother-in-law, and a brazen mistress. They had united against me, using arguments of false morality to attack me.

I suddenly realized my mistake.

The biggest mistake of my life was not marrying a poor man, but marrying into a family of ingrates.

Elias, encouraged by the support of his mother and mistress, grew bolder. He pointed a finger at me. “You heard them. Everyone sees how irrational you are. Only you don’t realize it. You always think you’re the best, that you’re doing my family a favor. I’m sick of your condescending attitude. Chloe is the one who understands me, the one who values my worth as a person. She loves me for being an ordinary man regardless of fame or fortune. That is true love.”

True love, regardless of fame or fortune.

I wanted to laugh in his face. Let’s see how long that true love would last if I cut off all financial aid.

I took a deep breath, recovering the cold calm typical of a businesswoman. I didn’t need to argue with people who weren’t on my intellectual level.

“Agreed,” I said with an icy voice. “If you despise my money so much and value affection and nobility so highly, I will grant your wish.”

I turned to Vivien and Tiffany with a look so sharp it made them flinch.

“Mom, Tiffany—remember your words today well. Never regret them.”

I turned back to Elias.

“And you, Elias—you say Chloe loves you for who you are without caring about material things, right? Perfect. Hold on to that belief.”

I picked up my purse, straightened up, and held my head high. I was leaving here not as a loser who was fleeing, but as a queen shaking off the parasites that had clung to her.

“We’re done here. I’ll see you in court.”

I walked out the door, leaving behind looks of hatred and Chloe’s triumphant smile.

She thought she had won.

She had just stepped into hell without knowing it.

I had barely left the pub when I heard the sound of hurried footsteps behind me.

It was Vivien.

She lunged at me, blocking my path, her face flushed with anger. “Stop right there. Where do you think you’re going? You cause all this scandal and just walk away as if nothing happened?”

I stopped and looked at her with unprecedented coldness. Before, every time she raised her voice, I would lower my head and apologize to maintain family peace. But today, that patience had died along with my marriage.

“Where I go is my business. You no longer have any right to question me.”

Vivien glared at me and pointed a finger. “How dare you talk to your mother-in-law like that, you spoiled brat? Do you think that because you have money, you can do whatever you want? I’ll tell you one thing—my son is right to leave you. A woman like you who only knows how to earn money, who neglects her husband, and doesn’t understand the obedience a wife owes her husband—not even dogs would want you.”

Tiffany also ran up and joined her mother. “That’s right. Look at yourself. Old and ugly, always with that bitter face. Chloe is young, pretty, and sweet. It’s normal for my brother to fall in love with her. You should look in the mirror and self-criticize instead of blaming others.”

I looked at the two women in front of me with a feeling of absolute contempt.

Were these the people I had carefully cared for for ten years?

I remembered the nights spent awake in the hospital when Vivien suffered heart attacks. I remembered the times Tiffany called me crying in the middle of the night because creditors were harassing her, and I had to go pay her debts—over twenty-three thousand dollars in just the last two years.

I had considered them my family.

But it turned out that in their eyes, I was nothing more than a cash cow to be milked. An emotionless ATM.

“Enough!” I yelled with a voice so firm that they both shut up instantly. “You call me old, ugly, materialistic. Fine. Let’s see how many days you can live with your nobility without the money of this old, ugly, and materialistic woman.”

Vivien made a scoffing sound. “Ha, don’t try to scare us. Without your money, my son is still a doctor—a prestigious university professor. His salary is more than enough to support the whole family. Do you think we’ll starve without you?”

“Doctor? Professor?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Do you know how much your son earns as a professor? Four thousand dollars a month, ma’am. That amount isn’t even enough to buy a bottle of your vitamins, let alone a dress for your daughter. Do you think the trips to Europe, the designer clothes, the luxury meals you enjoy come out of his salary?”

Tiffany straightened up and retorted, “Don’t lie. My brother has scientific research projects that bring him millions. He told me himself. Don’t try to trick us.”

“Projects?” I shook my head, disgusted by their ignorance. “Those projects are one hundred percent financed by my company. I was the one who put up the money to buy him a reputation. Now that I’m withdrawing the funding, the project will be canceled immediately. You’ll see.”

Vivien seemed to hesitate for a moment, but still tried to maintain her false pride. “You wouldn’t dare. If you do that, you’ll be ruining your husband’s life. Don’t be so cruel.”

“Cruel?” I looked her straight in the eyes. “Compared to how you’ve treated me today, what I’m about to do is merciful. You chose to side with them, to insult me, and trample on my effort. Don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

I didn’t want to waste any more words on them. I turned and walked directly toward my car.

Vivien tried to lunge at me, but I slammed the door shut. Through the soundproof glass, I saw her screaming and swearing, her face disfigured with rage. Tiffany, next to her, stomped her feet in frustration.

I started the car and accelerated past them as if they were strangers.

In the rearview mirror, the images of my in-laws grew smaller until they disappeared.

I didn’t cry. My tears were too valuable to shed for those who didn’t deserve them.

The car flew down the highway. I rolled down the window, letting the night wind dry the cold sweat on my forehead.

My mind was clearer than ever. The pain had passed, giving way to cold, precise calculation.

I grabbed my phone and dialed my faithful assistant’s number.

“Brenda, it’s Naomi.”

“Yes, Mrs. Dixon, I hear you. How was the anniversary celebration? Was Mr. Whitlock very surprised?”

“Very.” I laughed bitterly. “But we’ll talk about that later. Now listen carefully to my instructions and execute them immediately.”

“Yes. Tell me. I’m listening.” Brenda’s voice turned serious, noticing the strangeness in my tone.

“First, contact the bank immediately and request the blocking of all supplementary credit cards under the names of Elias Whitlock, Vivien Whitlock, and Tiffany Whitlock. The reason is a request from the primary cardholder. Do it right now.”

“But isn’t Mr. Whitlock on a business trip?” Brenda was about to ask more but stopped herself.

“No questions. Block them immediately.”

“Yes, I’ll do it right now.”

“Second,” I continued with a firm voice. “Call the property management and ask them to cut all internet and cable TV services. At the same time, contact the electricity and water companies and request a temporary suspension of service because the owners will be away for a long time.”

“Cut the lights and water? But Mrs. Whitlock and Tiffany are still in the house.”

“No, it’s no longer their house. That house is in my name. It is separate property predating the marriage. What I choose to do with it is my right. Just follow my orders.”

“Yes, ma’am. Understood.”

“Third—immediately draft a statement to withdraw funding for the ‘Application of Popular Folklore in Modern Life’ research project led by Dr. Elias Whitlock. The reason is a breach of the contractual clause regarding the principal investigator’s ethics. Send this statement to the president’s office at Georgetown University and a copy to Elias tomorrow morning.”

“Mrs. Dixon, that is very serious. If we withdraw the funding suddenly, Mr. Whitlock could be sanctioned—even fired.”

“That is exactly what I want,” I said clearly. “He used my money to support his mistress in his own university, publicly humiliating me. I am going to take back everything I have given him.”

There was silence for a few seconds on the other end of the line. Then Brenda’s voice sounded full of determination. “Understood, Mrs. Dixon. I will execute it immediately. Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine. Thank you, Brenda.”

“Uh, one more thing.”

“Tell me.”

“Contact Johns Hopkins Hospital and cancel the kidney transplant appointment for Mrs. Vivien Whitlock scheduled for next week. Tell them the family could not raise the funds. Request the withdrawal of her file.”

This time, Brenda was truly shocked. “Mrs. Dixon, that is a matter of life or death. Mrs. Whitlock has been waiting for that kidney for over eighteen months.”

I gripped the steering wheel, my eyes fixed on the dark road ahead.

“I know. But they trampled on my kindness. They said I only used money to buy affection. Well, I will show them that without my money, they cannot even keep their lives. Do it.”

“Yes, I will.”

I hung up and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.

A feeling of satisfaction mixed with bitterness invaded me. I never thought I would become so ruthless, but they themselves had forced me to become this person.

I remembered Vivien’s words: *My family, although poor, has principles and values.*

Principles and values. A mother-in-law who defends her son’s infidelity, a sister-in-law who insults her sister-in-law, and an entire family that unites to harass the woman who supported them.

I laughed at those principles.

The car entered the luxury complex in the Georgetown neighborhood. I did not return to the Potomac villa. That place was now contaminated by the breath of traitors.

I had a penthouse here in the glass tower that I had secretly bought two years ago with the intention of using it as a quiet retreat when I was tired. Now it would be my fortress—the place where my new life would begin.

I parked in the garage and took the private elevator up. Watching the numbers on the panel climb to the forty-eighth floor, I knew the real battle had just begun.

This night would be very long for them. When their credit cards were declined, when the villa was plunged into darkness by the power cut, when their last hope of life was extinguished—they would understand the price of betrayal.

I opened the apartment door, turning on all the lights. The luxurious, quiet, and impeccable space welcomed me.

I poured myself a glass of red wine, went out onto the balcony, and gazed at the glittering city.

Tomorrow the storm would break, and I, Naomi Dixon, would be the one directing it.

The first ray of sun of the new day broke through the thick curtains, illuminating the spacious but cold living room.

I had spent the night awake. The glass of wine in my hand had long been empty, but its bitter taste still lingered on my tongue, mixed with the bitterness in my throat.

I got up, went to my study, and turned on the computer. Brenda’s emails with the reports had arrived at 3:00 a.m.

All my orders had been executed. The secondary accounts blocked. The funding withdrawal statement drafted and awaiting my electronic signature. The utility cutoff notification sent.

And most importantly—the email from Johns Hopkins Hospital confirming the cancellation of the surgery.

I stared intently at the words *confirmation of cancellation* on the screen.

Memories of the months of desperate searching returned like a slow-motion movie. Two years ago, when Vivien was diagnosed with end-stage kidney failure, the whole family collapsed. Elias could only cry and lament. Tiffany feared that if her mother died, no one would give her money anymore.

Only I took charge of everything.

I traveled to Singapore, to Switzerland. I contacted the best specialists to find a compatible donor. The money I spent was incalculable—over two hundred thousand dollars in medical fees alone—but I never counted it.

At that moment, I considered her my own mother.

I remember the day I found a compatible donor. I cried with joy. I rushed home to break the news. Vivien hugged me, calling me her savior, the best daughter-in-law in the world.

Elias took my hand, swearing he would be eternally grateful.

It turns out they were all just words carried away by the wind.

I clicked the button to approve the document. A gentle click, but with the weight of an indirect death sentence.

I wasn’t killing her.

I was just taking away the life that I myself had given her. If she and her family despised my money and my effort, they could use their noble affection and family values to save themselves.

I picked up the phone and called my private security team hired from a prestigious firm.

“Rey, it’s Naomi.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Dixon. How can we help you?”

“I want you to send your men to the Potomac villa right now. Your mission is to change all the locks and reinstall the fingerprint security system. Only I and my children will have access. Do not allow anyone else entry. Not my husband, not my mother-in-law. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am. And what do we do with their belongings?”

“Collect all their personal items, pack them in cardboard boxes, and leave them outside next to the door. As for valuables like paintings, antiques, vehicles—if they do not have documents proving they are their property, leave them all inside the house.”

“We will get right on that.”

“And the Mercedes with the license plate D.C. 4497—that car is registered under my company’s name. Have someone drive it to the company parking lot and impound it. If anyone resists, call the D.C. Metropolitan Police and let the law handle it.”

“Understood. Don’t worry.”

I hung up, feeling a wave of energy course through me.

I was no longer the submissive wife. I was the owner of the game.

I put on a business suit. I carefully applied makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes. Today, I had another important meeting—a meeting with the most important people in my life.

My two young