Confusion between the parasites

Freya’s pov

The smell of roasted garlic and rosemary filled my open-concept kitchen, but to me, it smelled like cheap bait in a steel trap.

I stood by the marble island, adjusting my silk blouse in the reflective surface of the microwave. I looked polished, dutiful, and completely unsuspecting—the perfect, self-sacrificing wife they had spent years exploiting.

*【Target cluster approaching front entrance. Heart rates elevated. Target 'Deborah' displaying elevated stress markers due to declined luxury transactions.】*

The cold voice echoed at the base of my skull, accompanied by that faint, metallic ringing. I picked up a chef’s knife, calmly dicing fresh parsley on the cutting board.

"Let them simmer," I murmured under my breath.

The front door unlocked, and the noisy chatter of my extended family spilled into the foyer.

"Freya!" Belinda’s sharp, shrill voice boomed first as she tossed her expensive designer coat onto the entryway bench. "Why is the garage gate taking so long to open? Sam had to press the remote three times!"

"The sensors have been acting up, Mum," I replied, stepping out of the kitchen with a warm, practiced smile. "I'll have a technician look at it tomorrow. Welcome, everyone."

Sam walked in behind his mother, looking noticeably tense. His eyes immediately locked onto mine, searching my face for any sign of suspicion. Next was his sister Deborah, scowling at her phone screen, followed by Madison, who was holding five-year-old Hailey’s hand. Madison was wearing a pastel yellow sundress—a dress I had bought for her last month when she cried about having "nothing nice to wear."

"Auntie Freya!" Hailey squeaked, running up to wrap her small arms around my knees.

I froze for a fraction of a second, my stomach turning into a tight knot. In my past life, I had adored this child. I had treated her like my own blood. Knowing now that she was the biological proof of Sam and Madison’s betrayal, looking at her soft golden hair—the exact shade of Sam’s, sent a sharp spike of phantom pain directly into my temples.

I swallowed the bitterness, crouched down, and patted Hailey’s head gently. "Hi, sweetie. Go play in the living room, okay? I put some drawing pads on the coffee table."

"Thank you Auntie!" Hailey beamed, sprinting off toward the couch.

Madison stepped forward, placing a gentle, delicate hand on my arm. "Freya, you look so tired, honey. Are you sure you should be cooking? You work way too hard. Doesn't she, Sam?"

Sam cleared his throat, stepping up beside Madison, his arm brushing against hers just a second too long before he pulled away. "Yeah, sweetie. You should take it easy. Listen, about the bank accounts—"

"Dinner is served," I interrupted smoothly, turning back toward the dining table. "Let's sit down first. I bought a 2018 vintage Cabernet."

Belinda’s eyes lit up at the mention of the expensive wine. "Well, at least the wine selection is proper."

We all sat around the long mahogany dining table. Sam took his seat at the head, Belinda to his right, Deborah next to her, and Madison directly across from Sam. I took my place at the opposite end. From this angle, I could see every subtle glance, every accidental touch under the table between my husband and my best friend.

As I poured the rich red wine into Belinda’s glass, Deborah slammed her fork onto the table.

"I can't even eat right now," Deborah snapped, glaring at me across the table. "Freya, my card was declined at the boutique deposit counter today! The manager looked at me like I was a fraud! Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?"

"Deborah, please," Sam warned softly, though his knuckles were white as he held his wine glass. "Freya said there’s an issue with the corporate audit."

"I don't care about an audit!" Deborah whined, leaning back and crossing her arms. "Freya promised she would fund my store launch this month! The deposit was due today!"

I took a slow sip of my wine, letting the dark liquid settle on my tongue before speaking. "I know, Deborah. And I feel terrible. But the IRS freeze is out of my hands. My corporate lawyer said all high-volume outbound transfers are flagged for the next thirty days."

"Thirty days?!" Belinda gasped, dropping her fork. "Freya, that is completely unacceptable! Deborah has already printed the marketing flyers! Can't you just write a personal check from your inheritance fund?"

*【Target 'Belinda' attempt at direct capital extraction. Recommended response: Redirect pressure onto Target 'Sam'.】*

I lowered my eyes, looking deeply distressed. I let my voice tremble slightly. "I... I can't, Mum. All my inheritance accounts are tied up in real estate deeds and long-term treasury bonds. Sam knows that."

Everyone’s eyes turned toward Sam.

Sam stiffened, suddenly put on the spot. "Wait—what?"

"Well, Sam," I said, looking at him with wide, innocent, trusting eyes. "You're the Vice President of our firm. You've been saving your executive bonuses for the last three years, right? You always told me you had a private investment reserve of around $150,000. Why don't you lend Deborah the startup cash until my audit clears?"

A suffocating silence fell over the dining room.

Madison’s head snapped toward Sam, her eyes wide with shock. Deborah gasped with sudden delight, while Belinda slammed her hand on the table with joy.

"Of course!" Belinda cried out. "Sam! Why didn't you say so? You have the money right there! You can fund your sister's dream!"

Sam looked like he had just swallowed a live toad. His skin turned pale, and sweat began to glisten along his hairline.

I knew the truth. That $150,000 "investment reserve" didn't exist anymore. Sam had spent every single dime over the last three years buying Madison her luxury apartment, paying her mortgage, leasing her sports car, and buying expensive jewelry for her birthdays. His personal savings account held barely three thousand dollars.

"I... uh..." Sam stammered, his eyes darting frantically between Madison and his mother. "That money... it's... locked in high-yield fixed certificates! I can't liquidate it without massive penalty fees!"

"Penalty f*es?" Deborah pouted, her voice rising in pitch. "Sam, I'm your sister! You're going to let my dream die over some stupid penalty f*e?!"

"It's not just a small f*e, Deborah!" Sam snapped, losing his cool for a split second.

"Don't you yell at your sister!" Belinda scolded, glaring at her son with sudden anger. "You're spending thousands on fancy suits and dinners, but you won't help your own blood?!"

Madison sat completely still, her posture rigid, staring at Sam with a look of growing suspicion and terror. She knew if Sam's money was gone, her monthly allowance was in severe jeopardy.

I sat at the end of the table, cutting a small piece of pot roast, chewing slowly as I watched the parasites tear into each other.

"Don't worry, Deborah," I said softly, cutting through their loud bickering. "If Sam can't help, I have another idea. I have a collection of limited-edition luxury leather handbags and designer jewelry in my suite walk-in closet. They're appraised at nearly $60,000."

Deborah’s eyes instantly sparkled with greed. "Really?"

"Yes," I smiled warmly at her. "I was saving them, but family comes first. You can take them to the high-end consignment dealer downtown tomorrow and sell them for liquid cash."

"Freya, you are an angel!" Deborah squealed, completely forgetting her anger as she jumped up from her chair. "Can I look at them right now?!"

"Go right ahead," I nodded. "They're on the top shelves of the master closet."

Deborah practically ran down the hallway toward my master bedroom.

*【Query: Host Freya, why surrender high-value liquid assets to Target 'Deborah'?】*

"Watch," I mentally whispered back.

Thirty seconds later, a loud, horrified shriek echoed from the master suite.

"MY GOD! WHAT IS THIS?!"

Belinda, Sam, and Madison jumped up from their seats and rushed down the hall. I calmly wiped my mouth with a linen napkin and strolled behind them.

Inside the massive walk-in closet, Deborah was holding a ruined, black leather Hermes birkin bag. A dark, thick, indelible blue ink had leaked all over the leather, completely soaking the interior lining, ruining the hardware, and ruining five other designer bags sitting beside it.

"They're... they're destroyed!" Deborah sobbed, dropping the ruined bag onto the floor. "The ink exploded everywhere!"

"Oh no!" I gasped, clapping a hand over my mouth, looking horrified. "I completely forgot! Yesterday I put a high-pressure fountain pen ink refill in my tote bag on that top shelf! The heat in the room must have caused the pressure to burst the bottle!"

Sam stared at the ruined pile of leather, his face turning gray. That collection was worth tens of thousands of dollars—money he was secretly hoping to claim after my "accident" in the future.

"They're completely worthless now," Belinda moaned, touching the sticky ink with a fingernail. "Tens of thousands of dollars... gone!"

"I am so, so sorry, Deborah," I said, tears brimming in my eyes as I squeezed her hand. "I promise, as soon as my audit clears in a few weeks, I will buy you brand new ones. Every single one."

"A few weeks..." Deborah whimpered, slumping against the doorframe.

*【Analysis: Target 'Deborah' financial leverage eliminated. Target 'Sam' trapped between family financial demands and secret lover maintenance. Host capital preserved.】*

"Don't worry, everyone," Sam said through gritted teeth, trying to regain control of the room while glaring at me with deep frustration. "We'll figure something out. Freya, come to the kitchen with me for a second."

Sam grabbed my wrist—a little too tightly—and pulled me back into the kitchen, closing the door behind us.

"What is going on with you today?" Sam hissed in a harsh whisper, leaning close to my face. "First the accounts frozen, then you throw my savings in my mother's face, and now you ruin sixty grand worth of luxury goods?!"

I didn't flinch. I looked straight into his eyes, feeling the cold, phantom iron pipe throbbing behind my forehead.

"I'm just trying to be a good wife, Sam," I said, my voice dead calm. "Supporting your family. Isn't that what you always wanted?"

Sam stared at me, opening his mouth to speak, but the icy, detached look in my eyes made him freeze. For the first time since I woke up in this timeline, a flicker of genuine fear crossed his face.

*PING.*

My phone vibrated in my pocket. A private encrypted message from Titan Defense Solutions:

*`[Titan Defense]: Ms. Freya, your underground bunker construction proposal in Black-Stone Ridge has been approved. Phase 1 excavation begins tomorrow at 06:00 AM.`*

A slow, dark smile crept onto my lips right in front of my husband's confused face.

"Get some rest tonight, hubby," I whispered, patting his cheek gently. "You're going to need all your strength for what's coming."