Chapter 4

The day of my mother's surgery was getting closer by the hour.

I gritted my teeth and took a job as a server at a high-end club.

After days of exhausting shifts, I finally scraped together the thirty thousand dollars we needed.

I had just gotten to the hospital when my phone started buzzing like mad.

It turned out Narelle had posted a video of me working at the club online.

"Let's talk about just how shameless a gold-digger can get."

"She's married to a billionaire CEO and still isn't satisfied."

"The moment he cut off her card, she started claiming her mother was sick just to squeeze more money out of him."

"And she even took the opportunity to work at a high-end club, already looking for her next rich man."

"Contact us to book a consultation. Narelle will teach you how to spot gold-diggers, protect your money, and stay away from women like her."

That wasn't all.

That secondhand luxury store uploaded a video as well.

"This woman came to my store to resell secondhand goods, and her husband caught her in the act."

"She damaged our glass display counter, leaving fifty thousand in damages, and she still hasn't paid."

The comments came pouring in, one judgment after another.

Saying I was a gold-digger who'd married up, mocking my ugly face, telling me to pay back my debt.

I stood outside my mother's hospital room, my hands and feet numb with cold.

"Duncan, we came up from nothing together. Why won't you help me fight back?"

Duncan spoke calmly.

"They're just comments online. You don't need to take them so seriously."

"You threatened me with divorce, then actually went and got yourself a job at a club. Shouldn't I let you learn a lesson from this?”

"Don't worry, as long as you behave, I won't abandon you."

"Be a good girl and write a ten-thousand-word apology letter and post it. Once you're home, I'll transfer you one hundred thousand dollars for pocket money."

The call cut off.

A sharp crash came from inside the ward.

My heart jumped into my throat.

"Mom, what's wrong?"

I pushed the door open. Mom's phone was on the floor.

On the screen was the video Narelle had posted, tearing me apart online.

My face was clear as day in it.

"Winona, why are they all saying such horrible things about you?"

Mom said, crying.

"Where's Duncan? He's been so good to you—why isn't he helping you?"

"Just a few days ago he even mailed me cordyceps to help me regain my strength."

"No, I'm going to call and ask him."

I tried to stop her, but I was too late.

The call connected, and Narelle's mocking voice came through.

"Coming to beg for money? Didn't you say you had heart problems? How are you still alive?"

"Married barely three months, and you two, mother and daughter, couldn't even wait three months before showing your true colors and trying to bleed him dry?"

"Who are you? Why are you with my son-in-law!"

My mother's voice was shaking:

"How dare you say such things about my Winona!"

Narelle snorted contemptuously.

"Who am I? With your son-in-law at this hour—what do you think?"

"Ma'am, I suggest you teach your daughter how to be a proper wife."

"Instead of turning her into a shameless woman who only knows how to chase money!"

I quickly ended the call.

"Mom, don't listen to her!"

But the next second, my mom's chest began heaving violently.

The monitor screamed with a piercing alarm and her grip on my hand suddenly loosened.

She was rushed into the emergency room.

I don't know how long I stood there before the doors finally opened.

The doctor came out and shook his head.

"Her emotions fluctuated too violently in such a short time."

I collapsed to the floor, every ounce of strength draining from my body.

Seven days later, my mother's funeral ended.

I saw that Narelle had started a livestream, taking advantage of the attention she'd stirred up.

The Maldives sand was pure white, the water crystal clear.

She asked with a smile:

"Mr. Henson, what score would you give me for this marriage coaching?"

Duncan stood at her side.

He answered with a gentle smile.

"Full marks. You made me see what marriage is really about, and see my wife for who she really is."

"Under your guidance, she's learned to behave. She hasn't made a fuss in a whole week."

"She even transferred back every cent of the allowance I'd sent her."

Numb, I closed the livestream.

I posted every memory Duncan and I had shared in that cramped basement, one after another, all on social media

Along with my mother's death certificate and the recording of my phone call with Narelle.

I picked up my suitcase, and flew to Crestwood, two thousand kilometers away.

The livestream was still going.

A comment asked:

"But wouldn't his wife be disappointed by this and actually divorce him?"

Duncan froze for a moment, but Narelle didn't hesitate at all:

"Impossible. She'll handwrite that ten-thousand-word apology this week and post it publicly."

"Don't believe me? Just wait and see!"

"She used her own mother's illness to deceive people. An apology is the least she owes everyone."

Suddenly, someone in the livestream said:

"Mr. Henson's wife just posted on social media—go look, quick!"