Chapter 3

In the past, seeing her like this, I would have already pulled her into my arms, comforted her, and promised to take good care of her and her brother. However, now, watching her fake performance, I only felt nauseous.

I said nothing and just stared at her, waiting to see how she would continue this act.

Seeing that I remained unmoved, Vivienne cried for a while longer before her voice dropped.

"Honey, I know you're under a lot of pressure and that earning money isn't easy. From now on, I'll make sure Dylan spends less. Please don't be mad at me, okay?"

I stood up, avoiding her gaze. "I'm a bit tired. I’m going to rest in the bedroom."

With that, I walked straight out of the study, leaving Vivienne standing there alone, tear stains still drying on her face.

Back in the bedroom, I lay on the bed, my mind filled with Vivienne's lies and all those transferred assets.

Over the next few days, I acted completely out of character, ignoring her entirely. Vivienne noticed something was off but assumed I was sulking over the whole Dylan situation and tried every trick to please me.

She woke up early every morning to make me breakfast, though the taste remained mediocre as always. She took the initiative to organize my study, arranging the files neatly.

She even swallowed her pride and massaged my shoulders like how she had seen in online videos, massaging my shoulders and back while murmuring, "Honey, you work so hard. From now on, I'll listen to you. I won't ask you for money for Dylan anymore."

Watching her careful, fawning behavior, I felt nothing. Only deep disgust. Every attempt she made to win me over only reminded me of how foolish I once was.

Friday night, we ate dinner together. Vivienne prepared a table full of my favorite dishes and even opened a bottle of wine, trying to ease the tension.

Halfway through the meal, she started her sobbing act again, her eyes reddening as she spoke.

"Honey, I know you're still angry, but Dylan is starting middle school next year. The enrollment fees are going to be expensive, plus tutoring costs. I really have no choice but to keep asking you for money…”

"My parents are completely useless. They're getting old too.”

"Honey, this is so hard for me. You're the only one who can help. If even you won't help me, I really don't know what I'll do..." As she spoke, she poked at her food with her fork, looking pitiful.

I put down my fork and watched her masterful performance, cold laughter echoing in my mind.

Enrollment fees? Tutoring? This money would probably just end up funding Dylan's spending spree again.

Still, I did not call her out. I simply said flatly, "I see. I'll think about it."

My dismissive tone left Vivienne somewhat dissatisfied, but she did not dare say more. She just ate in silence.

After dinner, Vivienne returned to the bedroom. Probably figuring I was still angry, she did not dare disturb me.

I sat on the living room couch and opened my phone, registering a new social media account.

I used a generic female profile picture and changed the username to "Fellow Victim."

I found Vivienne's posting account and, after a moment of hesitation, sent her a private message.

"Girl, you're amazing! My husband always complains I spoil my family too much and calls me obsessed with my brother. But I have my own struggles I can't share. The person I'm actually supporting is my own child, but I can't let him know. How do you keep your husband willing to spend money without suspicion? Need advice. I also want to transfer assets to my kid."

Within minutes, my phone buzzed. Vivienne replied.

"Girl, I feel you! Men are all the same. Soft-hearted and easy to fool. Just cry in front of him more often. Tell him how much you suffered as a child and how biased your parents were. He'll feel sorry for you and agree to whatever you ask.”

"I've been married to my husband for five years. He's never suspected a thing. He always thinks I have it rough and treats my son better than he treats himself. Remember, never confront him directly. Act helpless. Tears are your best weapon."