"Chelsea cooked for you, climbed mountains in the rain to pray for you, and risked her life giving birth to your child! She's never wronged you a single time!" Joseph shouted, shaking with anger.

"Mom and Dad treated you like their own! Without the Sloanes, you wouldn't even be here today, you ingrate! When your parents ended up in a coma from that accident, it was Chelsea who nursed them for a whole year.

"If your parents knew what you're doing now, they wouldn't ever forgive an ungrateful son like you!"

I slapped Joseph across the face. The sound was sharp and clear. "How dare you speak of my parents?"

"What did you hit him for?" Chelsea screamed, rushing forward.

She cupped Joseph's swollen face, tears falling. "Why can't he bring them up? I was the one who cared for your parents through the end! Where were you? What right do you have to hit Joseph?"

I clenched my fists, my eyes cold and unrepentant, even itching to strike again. Arthur trembled with anger, his voice low and bitter. "You're a scum through and through!"

The guests all turned cold, watching me with eyes full of disgust.

Chelsea refusing to sign the divorce papers was well within my expectations, but I didn't have time to waste. The next day, I went straight to Nathan's preschool to confront her.

I stood under the shade of a tree, my eyes fixed on the two of them. Joseph moved naturally, his gestures intimate, almost as if he were the child's father.

And the black fountain pen—sleek and ominous—was tucked into the pocket at the chest of Chelsea's dress. I pushed through the crowd and walked straight up to them.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her smile frozen in an unnatural curve.

I pulled out the divorce papers and presented them to her. "Sign."

Joseph snapped instantly. "This isn't the time and place for you to throw a tantrum! When are you going to stop?"

The other parents and teachers were stunned, staring at us in disbelief.

"Hey, isn't that Nathan's father? Forcing his wife to sign the divorce papers in public? That's ridiculous."

"Their kid is right there! Can't he just wait until they get home?"

"And to think he looked like a gentleman. He's so heartless."

A female teacher hurried over, trying to mediate the situation. "Mr. Larsson, why don't you discuss this privately with Mrs. Larsson? This isn't good for the child."

Another parent chimed in. "It's normal for couples to have conflicts. Why bring it to the school? Mrs. Larsson seems kind and easygoing. Why can't you just talk it out?"

"Right? Forcing a mother to sign divorce papers in front of her kid is cruel!"

"For the sake of the child, you should've taken the higher road. Things will all smooth over."

"Is it really worth escalating to this point?"

Amid all the voices, Chelsea's eyes turned red in a flash. "I just… like using a pen. Does it really have to come to divorce over something so trivial?"

Joseph's voice shot higher as he grabbed my collar. "Because of your ridiculous need to control everything, you drag this to Nathan's school and make everything ugly. Are you even a man? Apologize to Chelsea now!"

Every gaze was fixed on me, sharp as a thousand thorns. In their eyes, I was the unreasonable man tearing my family apart.

Chelsea sighed, almost giving in. Then, she flung herself into my arms. "Honey, let's not fight anymore. Can't we just live our lives in peace? We've been through too much to let a stupid pen come between us."

With her yielding like this, everyone assumed I would finally back off.

I stayed indifferent, nudging the divorce papers toward Chelsea. She went pale, trembling, and could hardly speak. "Honey… are you really leaving Nathan and me?"

She cried so pitifully that even the other parents couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

"Just admit there's another woman!" Joseph seethed.

I only shot him a glance. "So what if there is?"

A few of the fathers nearby had had enough and rolled up their sleeves, ready to step in. I, however, fixed my eyes on the pen in Chelsea's pocket and changed my tone.

"If you won't sign, fine. Just give me the pen."

Her expression froze, and she instinctively clutched it tighter.

Joseph suddenly kicked me to the ground, his eyes dripped with an intent to kill. "You control freak. She's given so much for you! You said you didn't like the sound of the piano, so she quit playing the one instrument she's loved for 20 years.

"You said you disliked spicy food, so she gave up her favorite dishes to eat bland meals with you. And now, you want to take away the one pen she likes using?"

I stood up, staring at him with a smirk. "Let me remind you that this is my family matter. Why are you so worked up?"

My words instantly set the surrounding parents off. "You're a sick, controlling freak! Your wife can't even use a pen?"

"You think you're a tyrant or something? Your wife has the freedom to use whatever she wants!"

"I say sign the papers! Mrs. Larsson, you don't need a man like him! The sooner you leave him, the better!"

One of the mothers was so agitated that her chest heaved up and down, her finger trembling as she pointed it at me. "A man like you should've been run over on the street. You don't deserve to live!"

I ignored everyone else, my gaze fixed on Chelsea's pale face. "Sign the papers or give me the pen."

Her body wavered, as if the weight of humiliation and pressure was about to crush her. Under the sympathetic and urging eyes of everyone around, she slowly stood up.

Joseph's expression shifted instantly. He lunged and grabbed her wrist just as she reached for her pocket. His eyes were wide with disbelief. "You're really going to give it to him?"

She didn't flinch, though. Her eyes held a trace of comfort, like she was trying to soothe the storm.

His grip loosened instantly, as if he was thinking, "Right. So what if he got the pen? What could he possibly discover?"

His tense body visibly relaxed, and an amused smile soon curved his lips.

Chelsea lowered her head and handed me the pen. "Here, take it. We'll end this once and for all, okay, honey? Let's go home."

Her voice was heavy with resignation and compromise.

Once I acquired the pen, I didn't linger and walked away. I had already given them plenty of chances.

At the anniversary dinner party, I gave Chelsea the choice to be honest and end things cleanly. Earlier, I had given her one last chance to sign the papers with dignity.

Alas, greed controlled them. They greedily wanted to maintain the facade while making me out to be a fool. They thought deceit and public opinion were enough to cover the truth forever, keeping me nailed to the pillar of shame.

Well, fine.

I pulled out my phone. The surveillance footage showed Chelsea staring at the pen, licking it with abandon. I looked at her flushed face and couldn't help but let out a cold laugh.

In five days, during the Sloane family's livestreamed press conference, I would stop holding back and expose them for who they truly were.

When that day came, I stepped into the Sloane Group conference hall with confidence, silencing the chatter instantly. Every eye in the room was fixed on me, gleaming with schadenfreude.

Arthur caught sight of me and snorted heavily.

"Damn. That's him? The Sloane family is truly unlucky to have a son-in-law like him."

"He's talentless and relies solely on his in-laws' generosity. Does he seriously think he's some hotshot, humiliating their daughter like this? He's shameless to the core."

"Something's probably not right in his head. Just because his parents died early, he thinks he's entitled to everyone else's kindness."

Chelsea was holding onto Joseph's arm, their heads dipped close as they whispered to each other, looking intimate. The moment she saw me, she froze like a startled kitten and hurried over to my side.

"Honey, you're here."

I stepped aside, avoiding her hand as it tugged at my sleeve. Her submissive, downcast posture only made the people around us burn with even more resentment toward me.

The live stream chat was buzzing.

"Die, trash!"

"I heard Ms. Sloane was the one who took care of his parents until they passed, while he barely even showed up once!"

"My child goes to the same preschool as theirs. He never picks up his son. It's always been Ms. Sloane doing the work alone!"

"Ladies, do everything you can to avoid men like him. This is infuriating."

Joseph lifted his chin high, his eyes dripping with contempt. "Hey, weren't you the one begging for a divorce? Did you suddenly decide to crawl back to us because you knew our new product would sell well?

"I mean, who are you anyway if you're no longer Chelsea's husband?"

I smirked and nodded. "You're right. I can't let an empire like Sloane Group fall into the hands of a foster child like you."

"Screw you!" he cursed, gesturing toward the shadows.

Something wasn't right. Before I could react, several dark figures leaped out. Fists rained down like stormy rain, giving me no time to defend myself.

A few ladies screamed sharply at first, but soon, their cries turned into excited cheers. Everyone could see clearly that the attackers were only after me, striking my vulnerable spots and face with precision.

One pretended to help. "Security? Where's security?"

"Look, they're attacking him! Somebody call 911!"

On the sidelines, dozens of security guards in identical uniforms stood completely still, watching without moving a muscle. I curled up, protecting my head as pain racked my body.

My stomach churned violently. My suit was covered in filthy footprints, my hair had been yanked until it hurt, and my face burned and swelled from repeated blows. The iron taste of blood filled my mouth, mixing with the heat of the bruises.

"Serves him right! Trash like him deserves this!"

"Look at him! Oh, I'm going to die from laughing!"

I lost track of time. Maybe Chelsea thought the fun was over, as the attackers finally backed off. Her eyes were red, her voice quivering with a mock sincerity.

"Honey, are you okay? Hurt anywhere? Gosh, I was terrified! This must be our competitors… How far will they go?"

I shoved her hand away and wobbled to my feet.

Joseph stood a few steps away, arms crossed, a blatant grin on his face.

The hostility in the room was palpable. Spotlights glared onto the stage, the live stream comments scrolled in a frantic blur, and he stood there, radiating arrogance and pride.

I leaned against the back of a chair, feeling the dull pain spreading all over my body. In the end, I simply smiled.

The show was just about to start. Two could play the dirty game.