Naked Cousin Story

My father-in-law said he wanted to experience "how the young folks have fun these days," so I took him to my wife's newly opened upscale cocktail bar for a quiet drink. I’d just finished ordering him a custom cocktail when a man from a booth across the room swaggered over, glass in hand. His eyes scanned the drink menu on our table, and a condescending smirk twisted his lips. "Only ordering the cheapest well drinks?" he sneered. "Brought the old man here to enjoy the free air conditioning? Trash like you belongs in a dive bar. Who even let you in here?" Anger burned in my chest. I stood up, my jaw clenched. "We're paying customers. What's it to you?" But before I could say another word, his face darkened with pure rage. He snatched the half-finished beer bottle from our table and raised it high above my head. "My girl owns this place!" he snarled. "Even if I crack your skull open, I can afford the payout! You filthy pauper—either get on your knees and lick my shoes dry, or get the hell out of my sight. You're an eyesore." The beer dripped down my face. My hands trembled with fury as I wiped it away. Then, a cold calm settled over me. I opened my phone, switched to the camera, and went live. "Alright, everyone," I said into the screen. "You won't want to miss this. We're going live to catch my cheating wife and see the double life she's been leading."

At the class session joined by the school leaders and officials from the Department of Education, my lecture PPT was swapped for a sensational "Mistress's Charge Letter". "Charge one. Willingly being the other woman makes her an unsuitable role model for students." "Charge two. Attempting to secure a higher position through sex." "Charge three. Menacing the lawful wife with the absurd hope of advancing through pregnancy." Amidst the leaders and officials, my husband's illegitimate child accused me of disrupting her parents' marriage. In the name of "expelling the mistress to achieve justice", she coerced me, the true wife, into a humiliating bow to the mistress. I confronted my husband upon his arrival, "Care to explain? Why didn't I know that you had an illegitimate daughter?" He responded with a strike to the girl's face. "Where are you from, you unruly child? You're so ill-mannered!"

My father was a highly respected criminal investigator, and my mother was the head of the ER, dedicated to saving lives. However, I was a regular at the local police station. I fought, caused trouble, and earned the title of “the most hopeless kid on the block.” The first time, I publicly insulted my newly transferred cousin at school. My father dragged me straight to the police station in front of everyone and had me locked up for a full day and night. The second time, I led a gang of thugs to block my cousin’s way home in an alley. My mother was so furious, she dumped me deep in the mountains, leaving me to be bullied by a lecherous bachelor. The third time, I stole a keepsake from my cousin and tossed it down a sewer. My father put the handcuffs on me himself and sent me straight to juvenile detention. Five years later, I became a key informant in an anti-fraud operation, helping the police crack a major nationwide case. The media rushed to report the story, and journalists packed my parents’ house to interview the “hero’s family.” However, my parents just scoffed over the phone. “Her? A hero? We will only believe she is changed for the better when she is dead.” So why was it that when they saw me lying in a pool of blood after shielding a hostage, they finally cried?

25 years ago, a maternity nurse secretly switched me out for her daughter. Unfortunately for her, my six-year-old brother saw this and secretly switched me back. 25 years later, the maternity nurse comes knocking with her actual daughter by her side. She accuses me, the heiress of Crawford Group, of being an impostor. The company's janitor starts insulting me and insinuates that my lipstick is a cheap imitation. Even my boyfriend humiliates me with her. "And here I thought you were the heiress of the Crawford family. You can't even compare to a hair on Pammy's head!" When the DNA test results are out, everyone is stunned. "That wretch bewitched me, Lori! Please forgive me—give me another chance!" my boyfriend cries. I look at him icily. "Another chance to do what? To clean the toilets?"

Soon after I came back to the country, someone slapped me right across the face in broad daylight, yelling that I was a mistress. A crowd of reporters closed in, pelting me with questions about whether Chandler Armstrong, CEO of Armstrong Industries, was keeping me as his mistress. I was stunned speechless for a moment, but then I pulled out my wedding photo with Chandler from seven years ago and held it up. "What are you talking about? I'm his wife!" The crowd went silent, and the woman who'd slapped me turned white as a sheet. Only then did I finally get it: while I'd been overseas, Chandler had been openly involved with an actress, and everyone in his social circle had already decided she was the future Mrs. Armstrong. Today, they all came expecting to confront a mistress—only to find out that I was actually his wife. Later, Chandler tried to justify it. "Alina, you've been out of the country for years. I'm a man, and I have needs. She's just a B-list actress; it's not like she threatens your position. Why should you be upset? Just let it go," he said. "Don't make a scene." I handed him the divorce papers. "You make me sick."

My mother-in-law is extremely frugal. She reuses paper others have discarded, carefully saving the unmarked portions. She even takes the black waste oil from the kitchen range hood and uses it to cook our meals. She says, "Frugality is a virtue—it brings blessings!" I try tirelessly to convince her otherwise, throwing out all her filthy items to protect my family's health. But while she praises me to my face, behind my back, she uses my baby's food scissors to clip her grimy toenails. My child eventually dies of a lung infection, leaving me heartbroken. My mother-in-law, however, points her finger at me, saying I'm unlucky and that I've brought misfortune to their family. Even my husband blames me. In the end, they use a knitting needle to pierce my throat and stab me to death. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day I first see her picking up dirty paper. The first thing I do is hide all the high-quality tissue paper I had stocked up on before my pregnancy, pretending I knew nothing. She calls these blessings, right? Fine. The blessings of this miserly frugality—she can reap them all herself!

For five years, I thought our marriage was solid. Then, my husband, Lionel Franco’s first love, Sandra Howard, posted a photo of a property deed on her social media. The caption read: [Thank you, Lionel, for transferring the house to me.] I stared in disbelief and left a single comment: [WTF?] Lionel called within minutes. “She’s a struggling single mother. Transferring the house to her makes it easier for her son to get into school. It doesn’t affect where we live,” he snapped. “How can you be so lacking in compassion?” In the background, I heard her muffled sobs. Half an hour later, she tagged me in another post.  This time, she flaunted her Mercedes worth over a million dollars, with the caption: [Paid in full. As the saying goes, ‘Where a man spends his money, that's where his heart is’.] I knew he bought it to soothe her temper. But this time, I had enough. I decided to divorce him.

In front of the orphanage gates, Rebecca Schwartz, the impoverished student I had been sponsoring, stood glaring at me with a face full of disdain. "If you don't let Freddie come along, I'm not going to your house either," she declared, her tone sharp and unyielding. In the past, blinded by love and hopelessly infatuated, I would have caved to her demands, humbling myself just to keep the peace. But things were different now—I had been reborn. Staring at this despicable pair, who had once caused my tragic demise, a tidal wave of fury surged within me. Yet, it settled into nothing more than a faint, icy smile on my lips. "Then stay here," I said, my voice cold and steady. "Rot in this place alongside your precious Freddie. After all, trash like you belong in the garbage heap."

Someone posted a love confession to me on the college's confession wall. But then my roommate's boyfriend left a comment claiming I had slept with every guy on campus. I was furious and ready to call the police. My roommate begged me to forgive her boyfriend, promising she'd make him apologize publicly on the confession wall. But before that apology ever came, an adult video started circulating in the student group chats. Everyone was saying I was the girl in the video. The college summoned me for a meeting and suggested I take a leave of absence. When I went home, my parents refused to acknowledge me as their daughter. I lost everything. Depression consumed me, and with the endless rumors, I finally gave in to despair and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, it was the day my name first appeared on the confession wall.

After five years of marriage, Zac Saunders felt the need to protect his son with his mistress. Not only did he pressure me into terminating the pregnancy, but he also conspired with the board of directors to remove me from my position as vice president. He held Jemma Jacobs close, wearing a wicked grin."Samantha Lewis," he sneered, "since you won't obey...""...Jemma take your place from now on," he continued.I pushed his hand away, pulling Jemma in front of me. Ignoring her struggles, I firmly grabbed her hair and forced her to tilt her head back."Come on," I urged, "tell him, who do you belong to?"