تسجيل الدخولOn my birthday, my wife, Iris Lockwood, has ordered a few workers to carry a dust-covered second-hand air conditioner home as my birthday present. She points at the air conditioner while gushing excitedly, "This is a big brand, you know! It might look dirty on the outside, but the insides are brand new! "Remember, we're scrimping all the pennies we can get in order to move into a penthouse in the future. That way, we'll be able to live comfortably as a family of three!" I'm very understanding toward Iris, seeing as it's very difficult to earn money nowadays. So, I endure the pain that's flaring from an old hip injury I've sustained during my early days as a manual laborer as I crouch on the floor and clean the air conditioner for two long hours. But as soon as it's turned on, chemical powder sprays from it, soon filling the whole apartment. Because of that, our three-year-old son, Flynn Holt, goes into shock immediately from the severe allergy. With red-rimmed eyes, I yell at Iris to take Flynn to the hospital. But she quickly leaves after taking a phone call. "Crap, my biggest client is met with a car accident! I need to deal with it right away! You can flag down a cab and take Flynn to the hospital on your own!" That midnight, I head over to Quantum Heights, which is known as the most luxurious residence in the city, after receiving a phone call regarding the wrong address. In the corridor, I see Iris embracing a young man. She has nothing but love and affection for him. "There's no need to save money, you know. Young men at your age love new and branded goods, don't you?" Right… To Iris, a useless husband like me who didn't have an educational background only deserved to use second-hand things. But even the most saintly man will revolt one day once his patience is worn out. Besides, I've been faking my nice, understanding personality all along.
عرض المزيدAfter Iris went to prison, the divorce proceedings went exceptionally smoothly. Since she was suspected of major financial crimes and had committed adultery during the marriage, she was legally deemed the party at fault. The court not only awarded me the vast majority of our marital assets but also mandated that Tristan return everything Iris had spent on him, totaling over 1.2 million dollars. As for the luxury penthouse at Quantum Heights, worth more than three million dollars, the cops proved it had been purchased with embezzled public funds. So, the court promptly seized and auctioned it to compensate Ms. Lovelace's company for its losses. The day I received the verdict, I ran into Tristan outside the courthouse. He no longer looked like the arrogant young gentleman he had been in the luxury penthouse at Quantum Heights. Saddled with debt, he looked stripped bare and terribly haggard. When he spotted me, resentment flashed in his eyes. He pointed at me and gritted out, "D
After returning home, I immediately dug out the spare phone Iris had left behind. Even though she had been incredibly cautious, I still managed to find screenshots of her transfers to Tristan and her luxury purchases in her hidden photo album. Altogether, it added up to more than a million dollars. This was marital property. I sorted the evidence into categories and printed it into a formal dossier. Then, I called Ms. Lovelace once again. "Hello, who is this?" Ms. Lovelace sounded a little irritated on the other end of the line."Hello, Ms. Lovelace. This is Iris' husband, Dylan," I introduced myself calmly. "I was the one who sent you that anonymous text message at Quantum Heights the other day."Her breath caught for a split second. Then, she instantly sounded wary. "What exactly are you trying to do?""Ms. Lovelace, I'm calling to let you know that the penthouse at Tower A of Quantum Heights was bought in full by Iris as a gift for her side piece.""What?" Her voice rose a
"Huh? Darling, why'd you let go? Oh my god… Help me!"The dilapidated, secondhand wheelchair carried Iris down the steep slope, hurtling forward like a stray dog off its leash. When it collided with the edge of the flowerbed at the bottom of the hill, the wheelchair instantly fell apart.Iris was launched into the air and crashed heavily onto the concrete. The very next second, a sickening, bone-deep crack echoed through the air. Clutching her already infected and oozing with pus right leg, she let out a bloodcurdling scream. This time, her leg had snapped for good. Iris' right leg was encased in a thick plaster cast, suspended high in the air in the hospital ward. Due to the serious infection from before and this new comminuted fracture, the doctor said that even if she recovered, she would be a cripple for the rest of her life. For two straight weeks, I fed her nothing but the cheapest boiled cabbage and overnight leftovers every day. I justified it by explaining, "You need a
It worked. I let out a breath of relief and felt the weight lift off my shoulders. Listening to the cacophony of the man's wailing and the woman's bloodcurdling screams ringing out from inside, I didn't linger any longer. I turned and strode away from that filthy place. …Late that night, I brought Flynn home from the hospital after his condition had finally stabilized. Looking at the red rash on my son's face, which had yet to fade, I felt heartbroken. The chemical powder that vicious bastard, Tristan, had placed in the air conditioner had very nearly taken my son's life. I swore I would never let this debt go unpaid. I heard the almost imperceptible sound of the front door being unlocked at 3:00 am. The door opened, and a pungent, metallic smell of blood wafted into the room. I sat in the dark living room, quietly watching as Iris hobbled into the house. With the way she looked now, she could only be described as a total wreck. Her bespoke suit had been shredded into tatte


















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