Hearing that, Summer got so mad she threw down her chopsticks and stormed off toward the bedroom.

I watched her slender back with amusement, laughing to myself.

The door slammed shut behind her.

I walked to the balcony and called my dad. "Dad, I need to borrow some money."

By evening, Summer must have realized she'd overreacted. She came to make up with me.

She'd washed up early, wrapped in nothing but a towel, emerging from the bathroom like a water nymph. When she let the towel drop and flashed me that seductive smile, I felt every capillary in my body ignite.

I have to say—she really was a one-in-a-million temptress. Every inch of her was top-tier. Especially that bewitching expression; it could always stir up my interest instantly.

Unlike before, when I'd treat her like something precious, this time I only cared about my own pleasure. Whatever felt good, I did.

I used to hold her in the palm of my hand, afraid of hurting her, never letting myself go wild. Now I wanted to experience what it felt like to floor the gas pedal.

In the past, I'd worried about her comfort and never tried anything too adventurous. Tonight, I used every move in the book.

Summer was wrecked by my intensity and kept begging for mercy. "Hus... band, can you... slow down... I can't... take it..."

The more she begged, the more excited I got. I floored it and fully enjoyed the ride.

That night, I was insatiable—three rounds, and I had her wailing by the end.

She lay sprawled before me, complaining between gasps. "Your... stamina is insane... three times, an hour each—are you trying to... kill me?"

I chuckled. "That was only half my strength. Imagine if I actually tried."

After several days of this, Summer would tremble the moment she saw me. At night, she wouldn't even come to bed until she was sure I was asleep—then she'd quietly slip in beside me.

Even then, I didn't let her off.

After a few months, even the way she walked had changed.

Though she was suffering, for the sake of scamming a house out of me, she endured it.

Soon enough, the day came to get our marriage certificate.

I didn't hesitate. According to plan, I registered our marriage with Summer.

The moment the certificate was in hand, a smug, uncontrollable smile spread across her face.

I smiled too.

The day after, Summer dragged me to the sales office to buy a house.

The development had three floor plans available: an $8 million three-bedroom, a $15 million luxury flat, and a $30 million standalone villa.

Back when we were dating, I'd told Summer I was just a regular tech employee—didn't want to give her too much pressure. To match that story, I'd picked the $8 million three-bedroom as our marital home.

But at the sales office, Summer suddenly pointed at the $15 million model. "Honey, I really love this layout. How about we get this one instead? I'm willing to put in all my savings."

I'd expected her greed. I just hadn't expected her to offer her own money.

I chuckled. "So how much savings do you have?"

Summer held up three fingers, looking dead serious.

"You have $3 million?"

She shook her head.

"$300,000?"

"I have $3,000."

"Honey, I know it's not much, but I'm giving you everything I have."

Nice try—using $3,000 to bait me into spending millions more. She really thinks I'm an idiot.

When I didn't respond, Summer started pushing me to tap my family for cash.

"Honey, think of something. Ask your parents, your siblings. A few extra million shouldn't be hard for you."

I smiled faintly and pointed at the standalone villa. "Why cram into a condo with all those people? If we're buying, we're buying that."

She stared at me, stunned. Then her expression soured—she thought I was mocking her. "If you don't want to chip in for a bigger condo, just say so. You don't have to be sarcastic."

I gripped her shoulders, looking sincere. "Honey, I'm not joking. I'm buying the villa. Look—I've already got the money."

I showed her my bank balance. Her eyes went wide, and she actually screamed.

But suspicion crept back almost instantly. "You didn't take out a loan, did you? Because I'm not paying that off with you."

"Relax. Not a single cent borrowed. My family scraped it together."

She threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me hard.

"Honey, you're amazing!"

Just like that, I paid $30 million in full for the villa.

On the way home, we passed an imported car dealership. Summer dragged me inside.

"Honey, your Audi's so old. How about a Porsche? Since your family's so generous, why not ask for a little more?"

This woman was relentless. Bleeding me for a house wasn't enough—now she wanted a car.

Fine by me. The more eagerly she swallows, the harder she'll choke when it comes back up.

I dropped another $6 million on a Porsche.

The moment the keys hit my palm, her lips curled into a grin. So did mine.

After the house and car, she pushed for designer bags, watches, jewelry.

I refused everything.

First, that stuff would be a hassle to reclaim later. Second, I didn't want to overload the trap. The mine I'd buried was heavy enough already—I was worried she wouldn't survive the blast.

I didn't want our divorce dragging on because of loose ends.

The moment I stopped spending, her attitude plummeted.

At night, she was suddenly never in the mood. Period cramps. Infection. Always something.

I didn't care. After months of nonstop action, the novelty had worn off anyway. Even the finest delicacy gets bland if you eat it every day.

Now I was just waiting for her to show her hand.

Sure enough, she started picking fights over nothing. Every argument ended with her looking heartbroken and wronged. If I hadn't already known her game, I'd have thought I was the problem.

It's true what they say: sometimes when a woman snaps at you, it's not because you've done anything wrong. It's because she's already done with you.

The fights escalated. Summer grew bolder, stopped pretending. Some nights, she didn't come home at all.

I knew it—the moment to expose her was getting closer.

Based on her pattern, she'd be hunting for her next target soon.

To get more evidence, I hired a private investigator to tail her.

Sure enough, something turned up.

The photos made it clear—she was getting cozy with a middle-aged bald man.

My direct boss. Gavin Estes, Director of R&D.

I never expected that after bringing her to one company event, she'd hook up with The Eunuch.

Gavin was clean-shaven with a thin, reedy voice, and his personality was petty and vicious. Everyone called him The Eunuch behind his back.

Summer really was going all out for money.

The PI also sent back video footage from a karaoke bar's private room.

In it, Gavin promised her that if she divorced me and stayed with him, he'd give her a villa worth ten million.

Summer's face lit up. She crawled right into his arms on the spot.

From then on, every time she came home, she looked at me with open contempt.

She'd pick massive fights over nothing—the trash can being in the wrong spot, a dish left in the sink.

Finally, on a gloomy afternoon, she exploded over a scrap of paper on the floor and demanded a divorce.

Honestly? I was tired of this game. I'd been ready to end it for a while.

So when she finally said the word, I agreed immediately.

She froze. Clearly didn't expect that.

"What did you just say?"

"I said I agree. Problem?"

Something complicated flickered across her face. Then she started shouting again. "I want half of everything! It's what I deserve!"

There it was. The dagger, finally out.

I'd been waiting for this exact move.

To keep her from getting suspicious, I put on an angry front.

"In your dreams. I paid for the house and car in full—what right do you have to half?"

Summer looked smug. She pulled out our marriage certificate and waved it in my face.

"This right."

"The house and car were bought after we married. That makes them marital property. By law, marital property gets split fifty-fifty in a divorce."

"What's wrong? Shocked? Maybe you should've studied harder and learned how the law works. Heh."

Looking at that smug expression, I sneered inside.

The more pleased you are now, the harder you'll fall later.

"In your dreams," I spat. "I'd rather die than give you half."

"Then I'll see you in court!"

She twisted her hips and slammed the door behind her.

I watched her go and smiled to myself.

That's exactly what I wanted you to say.

In court, I wouldn't just expose your true face—I'd make you pay for your greed.

Soon, our divorce case went to trial.

Summer and Gavin walked into the courtroom arm in arm, with her mother Hailey trailing behind like a strategist entering battle.

The moment Summer walked in, she shot me a provocative look. I didn't bother responding.

The judge's gavel came down. The hearing began.

Summer's lawyer submitted the documents, explaining that our combined marital assets—real estate, vehicles, savings—totaled forty million.

They demanded an even split according to the law.

The judge reviewed the materials and approved the request on the spot.

After the verdict, Summer linked arms with Gavin and sauntered over, smug as hell. She leaned in close, voice dropping to a whisper. "So what if you don't agree? I still walked away with half your assets and my next happiness."

She smirked. "What's wrong, idiot? About to drop dead from anger?"

I laughed coldly. "Don't celebrate too soon. I haven't even started."

I signaled my lawyer to submit the next round of materials.

The moment they flashed on the courtroom screen, the room erupted. Summer and her mother went ghost-white, then crumpled to the floor.