The End of Your Family

I held up my phone and started a live stream, tagging Kelly on the spot.

"Zarrick, Dad and Mom are in the hospital. They're barely hanging on, waiting for you to bring money to save them. But you say you have no money—yet somehow, you have enough to throw a birthday party for this woman? What kind of logic is that?"

Zarrick's little celebration came to a screeching halt. Furious, he stormed over and slapped me across the face.

"It's my money. I'll spend it however I damn well please!"

I let out a sharp laugh. He had also used my money for this party. Since that was the case, I could smash it however I damn well pleased.

"Smash everything. All of it."

Zarrick panicked, grabbing my arm. "Go home. Stop making a scene!"

I scoffed, shaking him off. He thought I was making a scene? If so, he was really underestimating me.

I hadn't been raised to be meek. My parents had spoiled me from birth, and my temper was never mild to begin with. Over the years, I had swallowed my pride and endured, all for Zarrick's sake. But instead of appreciating it, he had mistaken my patience for weakness—pushing further, taking more.

"Zarrick, you spent my money on all this, didn't you? So why can't I destroy what I paid for?"

Kelly looked me up and down, sizing me up. When she realized I was just a washed-out housewife, she smirked.

"Amber, you can't put it that way. You're his wife, after all. Besides, Zarrick is the general manager of Northington Textiles. The way you're talking, it sounds like he's just living off a woman. That's not very appropriate, is it?"

The moment she said living off a woman, Zarrick's face twisted. He had always been sensitive about being a live-in son-in-law. Words like that were absolute taboo.

"Are you done making a scene?" he growled.

"Not even close."

I raised my voice. It wasn't about who was louder, but damn, it felt good to shout.

"Keep smashing. The one who smashes the most gets a bonus."

The birthday party turned into chaos. Kelly, who was acting all arrogant a minute ago, was reduced to clinging to Zarrick, playing the helpless victim.

"Zarrick, this whole party was your hard work. I don't mind, but it pains me to see your effort and money go to waste like this."

Her soft, pitiful voice dripped with faux concern. In my past life, I had been too straightforward—too foolish—to see through her act. Now? I was going to beat her at her own game.

I lifted my phone again and turned the camera toward myself.

"Let's ask the internet. Chat, tell me—how does such a strong, independent woman like Kelly justify spending another woman's husband's money? And let's not forget, Kelly is a top student and a famous influencer. Is she really willing to be the other woman?"

At first, only a few people were watching. But as I continued, as things escalated, the numbers grew. People love a good spectacle. The comment section exploded.

[The wife's being too polite. Just grab that bitch by the hair and rip that dress off. Let's go!]

[That bitch is just another classic homewrecker. Kudos to the wife for sticking it up against her.]

[Exactly. Genius move.]

[Nah, she should give that bitch a tight slap. No patience for this nonsense.]

[Girl fight! Girl fight!]

[Girl fight! Let's goooo!]

Kelly was seething inside, but in front of the camera, she kept her carefully curated smile.

"Zarrick, it's all my fault," she said. "Please, take your wife home and clear up this misunderstanding."

My eyes locked onto her hands—clutching Zarrick's arm like she belonged there. The moment she noticed my gaze, she reluctantly let go.

Zarrick's face was dark with fury. He lunged for my phone.