Chapter 4

It was the only thing of real value the original Brenda had left behind.

For five years, she had meticulously documented every night Joseph failed to come home, every time he returned smelling of perfume, and every unexplained charge on his credit card.

There were even the taunting messages Naomi had sent her—every insult and every attempt to force her way into the marriage.

Originally, these were merely the desperate ramblings of a bitter woman.

In my hands, however, they would become the sharpest of blades.

My phone chimed with a text from Naomi.

"Brenda, the ruling is tomorrow. The court is definitely going to rule against you. By then, you won't just be out of money, but you'll also have to post a public apology online and lose every bit of dignity you have left. If I were you, I'd just go kill myself."

As I stared at the screen, my fingers tapped rhythmically against the desk.

A public apology online?

Wonderful.

I was just in need of an officially certified microphone.

On the day of the verdict, a light rain was falling over Selmont.

The courtroom was packed to capacity, everyone eager to witness the fall of the notorious rich wife.

"The defendant, Brenda Hudson, is found to have infringed upon the plaintiffs' privacy and defamed them. The evidence is conclusive. The court orders the defendant to pay one dollar in damages for emotional distress to the plaintiffs and to post a public apology at the public‑facing media outlets for no less than 15 days."

Joseph stood up, straightened his suit, and wore the triumphant smile of a winner.

Naomi clung to his arm, unable to hide the smug satisfaction on her face.

I listened to the verdict expressionlessly, waived my right to appeal, and signed the papers directly.

As I walked out of the courthouse, a barrage of cameras and microphones were shoved into my face.

"Ms. Hudson, what are your thoughts on the verdict?"

"Will you fulfill your obligation to apologize?"

"Netizens are saying you brought this on yourself. Do you regret it?"

Cold rain struck my face.

I stopped in my tracks and looked straight into the countless cameras without flinching. "I have no objections. I will apologize sincerely."

With that, I pushed past the reporters and got into my car.

Joseph's call came right after. "Brenda, I want to see your live apology tonight at 8:00 pm. If you try to play any tricks, I'll have the court enforce the judgment and destroy your credit. You won't even be able to take a train or a flight!"

"Don't worry," I replied smoothly while looking at the streets rushing past outside the window. "I'll go live at 8:00 pm."

Back home, I popped open a bottle of red wine for myself.

Did Joseph think he was the only one who knew how to exploit legal loopholes?

I went into the walk-in closet and picked out a striking red evening dress.

Sitting before the vanity, I slowly shaped my brows into graceful arches like distant mountains and painted my lips a vivid crimson.

This was the kind of grand attire an ancient matriarch wore when meeting the emperor to accept a noble title.

If this was going to be a grand show, the lead actress ought to look the part.

At 7:55 pm, the live stream announcement went out, and within moments, more than 100 thousand people had signed up to watch.

The entire internet was waiting to see how this once-arrogant wife would bow her head, admit guilt, and endure humiliation before millions of viewers.

I set up my broadcasting equipment and adjusted the lighting.

On the table in front of me lay that thick diary, alongside a massive stack of printed bank statements and chat log screenshots.

The clock struck 8:00 pm.

Joseph and Naomi were probably popping champagne right now, glued to the screen, ready to watch me make a fool of myself.

I looked into the camera and offered the impeccable smile of a noble household's matriarch. "Hello, everyone. I'm Brenda Hudson. The court ordered me to apologize, so not only will I apologize, but I will also do so in meticulous detail, complete with photos and evidence. Mr. Cooke, Ms. Baxter, are you ready?"

The number of viewers on the live stream instantly surged past 500 thousand.

The chat flooded with frantic comments.

I picked up the first document and cleared my throat, my gaze sharpening like a blade.

"I'm sorry, honey. I should not have exposed what you did in Room 302 of Hiltonia Hotel at 2:00 pm on March 4th, 2021.

"That day, you and Ms. Baxter stayed in that room for a total of 15 minutes. Excluding the time you spent showering and getting dressed, I shouldn't have mentioned the fact that you only lasted three minutes. It was a severe violation of your privacy and a terrible blow to your pride as a man."