He Chose His Boss, I Chose Revenge

The moment my chin hit the ground, two of my front teeth flew out.

I thought they might help me up.

But instead, they doubled over laughing at my misfortune.

Monica sneered.

“Little sister, did you just eat dirt? That’s hilarious!”

“With your teeth gone, will your words whistle through the gaps now?”

Ryan laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

Struggling to rise, I realized my forehead was bleeding as well.

I glared at Monica, demanding an explanation.

She pouted pitifully, hiding behind Ryan.

“Little sister, don’t stare at me like that—you’re scaring me…”

Ryan shielded her with his body.

“Emily, calm down. Don’t be so aggressive!”

“You fell because your skills are poor. Don’t blame Monica.”

“Look at your petty attitude. Losing teeth serves you right!”

I swallowed my fury.

“She’s never even practiced yoga, yet she insisted on partnering with me and made me fall. I’m the victim here—can you get that straight?”

Monica’s eyes shimmered, like a wounded deer.

Seeing her flushed nose, Ryan scolded me for being too harsh.

In front of everyone, he pulled Monica into his arms to comfort her.

After the event, I overheard their conversation.

“Ryan, you scolded Emily for me just now. Aren’t you afraid she’ll be mad? If she refuses to let you into the bedroom tonight, don’t suffer. Just come play at my place… my husband isn’t home, you know what I mean…”

Inside the private room, Monica straddled Ryan’s lap, teasing him endlessly.

She leaned in to kiss him, but Ryan held the back of her head and deepened it.

His eyes burned with desire.

“Are you sure? Emily’s missing teeth now—I don’t even want to sleep with her anymore.”

His words pierced me like knives.

Maybe I should have stormed in and confronted him,

but reality left me paralyzed, listening to their cruel laughter.

Monica cooed, “I’ll wait for you tonight.”

Ryan whispered something suggestive in her ear.

Her cheeks flushed pink as she playfully hit his chest.

Watching them heat up, my stomach churned.

I forced myself to stay calm and snapped photos of their intimacy.

Then I called my best friend.

“Sophia, help me find Monica’s husband.”

Within minutes, she had dug up information.

His name was David Miller. He was serving overseas in the military.

A righteous man, and the type who despised adulterous women.

I curved my lips into a smile.

This would be interesting.

Afterward, Ryan began showing open disdain toward me.

He used “helping Monica through postpartum depression” as his excuse to stay at her house.

One night, while I was sleeping deeply, Monica bombarded me with messages.

Half-asleep, I opened my phone—

and what I saw made my eyes burn red.

In the video, Monica wore barely anything, hanging off Ryan’s body.

There were indecent things scattered across the floor.

My vision went black.

They had finally crossed the line.

I didn’t even have the energy to be sad or angry.

Silently, I saved the video.

Then another message came.

“I was just feeling down after giving birth, so Ryan came to help me. Tell me, who do you think he really loves?”

Her words were a blatant provocation.

Clenching my fists, I sent the video to David.