After my drill instructor husband, Vincent Bennett, returns home from a business trip and gives me an intense "punishment session," I collapse onto the bed and start scrolling through my phone.

That is when I come across a trending local post.

"My boyfriend is cheating on me, and I am about to catch him in the act! Anyone in this city wants to come with me and catch him with his mistress?"

The comments below are full of people egging her on.

"Where? Hurry and drop the address! I am bringing my toilet plunger to beat that scumbag!"

"Kitchen knife ready. Miss, I am with you. We'll chop up that homewrecker first!"

I am instantly excited. If I were not so exhausted, I would want to join the drama too.

Just as I am thinking that, the poster uploads the address.

I tap it open.

In the next moment, I freeze.

Unit 1203 of Building C, Jarmond Heights.

Isn't that my address?

In a heartbeat, it felt as though every drop of blood in my body had run cold.

Then, with a soft click, the bathroom door was pushed open. Vincent Bennett walked out, wrapped in a towel, his abs still bearing the faint red marks I had clawed at him in the heat of the moment earlier.

Holding a glass of warm water, he leaned over and held it to my lips. "Here, have some water to soothe your throat."

At that moment, I looked into his deep, unreadable eyes, remembering how I had spent five years losing myself in the affection those eyes once carried.

Three years ago, in order to support his career as an instructor, I'd willingly resigned from my position as an editor at a publishing house. I'd become a homemaker, looking after his parents and managing everything at our home.

During our five years of marriage, we were often apart more than we were together because of his role as a military instructor at the university. He had always told me that absence made the heart grow fonder, so every time we saw each other again, sparks seemed to fly instantly.

Consequently, I had always believed that despite the distance, we were the most loving couple in the world. However, at that moment, as I took in the lingering tenderness in his eyes and compared it to the viral post on my phone screen titled "I'm rallying people to stab his mistress to death," my stomach abruptly churned violently.

"Vincent…" I tried my best to keep my trembling fingers still as I forced out, "During this training session… did you meet any particularly special female students?"

Vincent's hand froze midair while wiping a water droplet from the corner of my lips. His gaze flickered almost imperceptibly as he responded, "They're just a bunch of immature kids. None of them could ever compare to you, honey."

Unfortunately for him, I could tell he was lying.

To me, cheating was unforgivable. If he had really cheated on me, I would rather throw these five years of devotion away than stay in this marriage for even a single second longer.

Before I could gather my thoughts, a series of violent, thunderous bangs erupted against the front door, accompanied by a young woman's sharp, aggrieved wailing. "Get your ass out here, Vincent! I know that old hag is inside! Girls, the homewrecker is inside!"

The blood drained from his face in an instant. Instinctively, he pinned me down as I was about to rise to my feet. "Hela, go hide in the bedroom. Lock the door and, no matter what, don't come out!"

I didn't budge. I merely looked at him coldly.

He froze for a second, as if he had never expected me to defy him. Over the last five years, he'd gotten used to making decisions for me in that domineering tone, and I'd never gone against him.

"Go and answer the door," I ordered.

Vincent stiffened. "Do as you're told, Helena!" Realizing I wouldn't budge, his tone sharpened as he tried to persuade me again.

"If you won't answer it, I will!" I pushed his hands away and made a move to get out of bed to head for the door. Yet, he abruptly seized me, attempting to forcefully shove me into the bathroom.

I tried to break free from his hold, but the difference in strength between us was overwhelming. As he was about to force me inside, the front door was kicked open from the outside.

The very next second, a young woman in a white dress stormed in with several netizens, who were holding up their phones and livestreaming everything. The young woman was the original poster herself, a third-year medical student named Elowen Jensen.

The moment she spotted me, who was struggling in Vincent's arms, she burst into tears. Pointing at me, she bellowed, "Girls, that's her! That's the old hag who seduced my boyfriend! Vince told me he doesn't love her at all; she's the one who's clinging to him and refusing to divorce him!"

Her classmates and the netizens behind her immediately rushed forward to corner me. Vincent's next move sent me plunging straight into the abyss.

He had the audacity to push me away and drew the weeping Elowen into his arms. Then, he spun around and snarled at me, "Go back inside, Helena! Don't frighten Ellie!"

Before I could react, countless phone cameras were thrust into my face, while the livestream chat was rife with vicious insults, calling me a shameless slut and an old hag. Drinking in the utterly absurd scene before me, I was so exasperated I let out a derisive chuckle.

To Vincent's disbelief, I didn't retreat into the bedroom like he wanted. Instead, I raised my hand and slapped both him and Elowen hard across the face.

"You want me to hide? Vincent Bennett, have you forgotten whose name is on the deed to this house?"

Those two slaps threw everyone off. Clutching his face, Vincent's eyes were filled with disbelief. After all, in the last five years, I had never once defied him.

He had gotten used to me waking up at 3:00 am to brew soup for him, used to every inch of the house being kept spotless, used to my obedience, tolerance, and endless patience. It had never occurred to him that I would slap him in front of so many people.

Before he could part his lips, Elowen let out a shriek and buried her face in his chest, wailing at the top of her lungs, "Vince, she slapped me! She's the homewrecker; how dare she slap me, your girlfriend? Is there any woman in this world more shameless than her?"

Her classmates and the netizens, who were livestreaming the scene, instantly erupted.

"Did you all see that? This homewrecker's been shamelessly harassing Chief Instructor Bennett, and now, she's gone crazy for him!"

"Do you have any idea how good Chief Instructor Bennett is to Ellie? Last month, when she cut her finger during a medical experiment, he rushed back from the military base that very night to be with her! What about you? Do you honestly think you're worthy of him?"

Last month? I shuddered.

On the 15th of last month, I had a high fever of 102.56°F. I was so delirious I could barely think straight, and I called him 17 times.

Every single call gave me the same response. "The number you have dialed is currently on another call."

In the end, he only sent me one text. "I'm in closed training. Don't bother me."

I had to support myself against the wall just to get downstairs, and I'd spent the entire night alone, hooked up to an IV drip in the emergency room at 2:00 am. As it turned out, he wasn't in closed-off training that night; he was busy accompanying another woman while she got a single finger bandaged.

The young lady with the curly hair didn't think that was enough; she continued to twist the knife in my heart. "The month before last, Chief Instructor Bennett spent several months' worth of bonuses just to buy Ellie a limited-edition handbag. Now that's what you call true love! So, a homewrecker like you should get lost!"

Bonuses. A metallic tang rose in my throat.

During those months, he had told me his salary had been cut and asked me to tighten the household budget. I had even used the very last of my personal savings to buy the nutritional supplements his father needed while he was hospitalized.

As it turned out, all of his money had been spent on this woman.

The livestream comments hastily scrolled by.

"This homewrecker looks pretty old. No wonder she seduced a younger instructor."

"How does a parasite like her still have the nerve to slap someone? Get out of their house already!"

"My heart goes out to Ellie. Girl, you deserve someone better!"

Every single comment was like a knife carving into my heart.

Vincent, however, seemed unfazed. In fact, he leaned into my ear and lowered his voice. "Helena, I'm begging you, just tell the cameras you're the one who's been pestering me and don't expose Ellie as the homewrecker. Once this blows over, I'll buy you that bag you've always wanted, okay? Please don't ruin my future!"

I chuckled. He actually wanted me—his lawfully wedded wife—to admit to the internet that I was a mistress just to preserve his and that woman's reputations.

Divorce. It took only a second for that thought to become a decision. I lowered my head and let out a low chuckle, one so desolate it even made my own heart ache.

However, that only served to make the netizens even more indignant. In the blink of an eye, countless cameras were shoved in my face, their flashes nearly blinding me. The comment section exploded with a barrage of demands to doxx the homewrecker and cyberbully this parasite.

Without sparing Vincent another glance, I picked up my phone and called my lawyer.

Elowen caught on and sneered, folding her arms across her chest. "Oh, are you calling for backup? Go ahead! Vince is a chief instructor. He knows all the top brass. What can a jobless housewife with no background like you possibly do?"

I stiffened. Elowen was right. What could a housewife with no background possibly do?

So, I swiped away my lawyer's number and scrolled to the very bottom of my contacts, dialing a number I hadn't touched in five years. The moment the call connected, I uttered a word that felt utterly foreign to my lips. "Dad—"

The call had gone through, yet as soon as the word rolled off my tongue, Vincent snapped. He snatched my phone and hurled it violently against the floor. "Helena, have you lost your mind? Since when do you have a father?"

Vincent didn't know that my father was Kai Sutton, a notorious figure in Jovelle's underworld.

When my mother was still alive, she never allowed me to contact him. She'd merely told me he was a man who lived by the blade and that he was no good.

However, on the day of my mother's funeral, that man in the black overcoat had stood outside the memorial hall and smoked through the entire night. At dawn, he slipped me a business card and said, "Kid, if you're ever in trouble, call this number."

I had kept his card for five years and had never dialed it once because back then, I thought having Vincent was enough. I never imagined that the first time I would ever call my father would be because Vincent had cheated on me.

Looking at my shattered phone on the floor, I noticed the screen had already turned dark. I had no idea how much the person on the other end had heard.

"Whether or not I have a father is none of your business! Vincent, take your mistress and get the hell out of my house right now!"

"Mistress?" Elowen was the first to react. "Who are you calling a mistress?"

She screamed and lunged at me, her nails aiming straight for my face. "You bitch, you're the damn mistress!"

Her classmates surged forward like a pack of madmen. Someone yanked my hair, while others shoved me hard by the shoulders.

In a heartbeat, I was pinned down on the coffee table. The back of my head struck the corner of the table, and my vision went black for a moment.

Warm blood trickled down from my temple, leaving a gruesome trail across my face. My phone was completely crushed under someone's foot, and the call screen went dark.

"Nice hit! That's exactly what a homewrecker deserves!"

"Go, girls! Don't let this parasite get away!"

Vincent merely stood there. His eyes even betrayed a hint of impatience, as if he was saying, "This wouldn't have happened if you had just listened to me."

Pinned to the ground with my face drenched in blood, listening to the crowd viciously branding me a mistress while seven or eight cameras were shoved in my face, I abruptly burst into laughter. Everyone froze for a split second.

The very next second, I spat out, "I'm the homewrecker? Very well!"

I braced myself against the coffee table and rose to my feet, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth. "In that case, I'll show you who the real homewrecker is!" With that, I gathered my strength and sprinted toward the bedroom.

In front of the safe, the combination lock popped open with a soft click. Inside, bankbooks from the past five years were neatly stacked; I hadn't touched a single cent.

My fingers skimmed past everything and pulled out two pristine white marriage certificates from the very bottom. On the day we registered our marriage five years ago, Vincent had said with a smile, "Hela, you're it for me. For life."

I was it for him. I closed my eyes for a moment before walking out of the bedroom.

In the living room, Elowen was still playing the victim for the cameras. Vincent frowned when he noticed me emerge empty-handed, growling, "That's enough, Helena! Hurry up and apologize to my girlfriend and get these people to leave. Don't make me lose my temper!"

The nerve of him. Even now, he still thought I was being unreasonable. He was still certain I wouldn't dare escalate things, certain that I couldn't survive without him, and certain that I—with no family to back me, no job, and no way out—would always have no choice but to obey him.

Step by step, I closed in on Elowen, who tilted her chin up provocatively, waiting for my apology, but I didn't give her one. Instead, I hurled the two marriage certificates into that pure, innocent-looking face of hers.

The pristine white sheets of paper landed on the coffee table. "Here, take a good look! Which one of us is the homewrecker?"

The marriage certificates lay open beneath the flashing lights and the livestream. In an instant, the official seals and the registration date from five years ago were visible to the audience. The camera auto-focused, magnifying every single word until it filled the screen.

The whole world went silent for three seconds. Then, it exploded.

"Holy crap... Marriage certificates?"

"They registered five years ago? Then, who the hell is the homewrecker here?"

"Hold on, are my eyes playing tricks on me? Vincent's married? Didn't he say he was single?"

Elowen's face flushed crimson before all the color drained from it. She stumbled backward, knocking over the chair behind her. "That's impossible... This is photoshopped! You forged this!"

"Check with the courthouse yourself." I wiped the blood from my forehead. My voice was so calm it sounded as though I were telling someone else's story. "Go find out who's been pestering whom, and who the shameless mistress actually is!"

Vincent completely lost it. His reputation, his career, and the halo of being a chief instructor—it was all gone.

Like a madman, he lunged at the cameras, attempting to snatch their phones away, only to be shoved away by the netizens who were watching the drama unfold. Hence, he turned around to shoot daggers at me.

His gaze was filled with nothing but manic hatred as he raised his hand high to strike me. "Helena, you're hell-bent on ruining me, aren't you?"

His hand came slicing down with a sharp rush of wind, but I didn't flinch or even close my eyes. I just stared straight at him.

However, in the very next second, a loud roar erupted outside the window as a helicopter swept in, instantly blocking the entire floor-to-ceiling window of the living room. More than a dozen black-clad bodyguards filed in through the door, and in the midst of them, a middle-aged man in a black suit strode inside.

He was a picture of pure murderous intent; the ruthless look in his eyes made it seem as if he wanted to tear everyone present limb from limb. "Vincent Bennett, I dare you to lay a hand on my daughter!"