After James left, I placed the bracelet into the jewelry box.

Each box could hold 20.

This was the fifth one I had filled.

It started three years ago. The first time rumors came out about James flirting with a young girl at work.

He rushed home right away to explain, saying it was just part of the job. To prove it, he bought me a bracelet that cost about 20 thousand dollars.

I actually smiled when I got it.

It felt like an apology back then, like he cared about my feelings and knew what I liked.

However, the bracelets kept coming. More and more, pricier and flashier each time.

Eventually, I stopped smiling.

Six months ago, on my birthday, he gave me the 80th bracelet.

I made up my mind that night to file for divorce once it hit the 100th.

Half an hour later, my phone buzzed.

A soft, whiny female voice came through.

"Baby, are you here yet? Ugh, I missed you so much."

It was the wiretap from James' phone, feeding live audio into mine.

He went to meet Yvonne.

"You told me to come. How much did you drink?" he asked.

She snorted playfully, "Just kidding. I didn't drink. I just didn't want you going back to that dragon lady."

James remained silent for a while before he said coldly, "Yvonne, don't talk about her like that."

She scoffed. "Fine, I get it. No calling her names—even when she's not around.

"She'd be happy to know you're defending her like this."

Her tone was pouty, but there was no mistaking that displeased lilt to her voice.

James sighed deeply and pulled her close. "Come here, give me a kiss."

Then came a long stretch of kissing sounds, followed by a door closing.

Silence. They were probably in the bedroom.

Half an hour later, the wiretap picked up more whispering.

"James, did you handle what you promised? Ball's been gone for three days," she asked sweetly.

"Yeah." He hesitated, but his voice was still gentle. "I'll go with you tomorrow. Just keep it quiet. Don't let Michelle find out."

My stomach twisted.

Ball was Yvonne's dog. I did not know it had died.

What was James helping her with that he needed to hide it from me?

Before I could process it, James took his phone into the bedroom.

The passionate night was long.

My eyes were wide open till morning.

I had heard about Yvonne long ago.

She was James' first love back in high school. They had been together publicly for a while, until his family shut it down. James' mom even ran a background check on her.

No one knew what she found, but both parents agreed to break them up.

James pushed back hard for months.

In the end, however, it was Yvonne who gave up first. She left the country to study abroad, thanks to James' mom.

James fell into a slump for years until he met me.

I thought he had moved on when he married me.

Clearly, I was wrong.

I opened the photo Yvonne had posted again, this time the house deed.

James had bought women gifts before—bags, necklaces, shoes—but never a house.

This was the first.

The next morning, James came home.

He saw my eyebags and sat beside me, pulling me into his arms. "You didn't sleep well last night?" he asked, full of concern.

"No," I rubbed my temples and leaned away. "Can you make me some noodles? I'm starving."

"Of course. You're my wife," he said with a soft smile, like nothing had happened the night before.

He walked into the kitchen.

I grabbed his phone and opened his chat with Yvonne.

The latest messages were from ten minutes ago.

[After you handle her, come pick me up? I want to visit her mom's grave with you.]

[Yeah. Don't tell anyone.]

[Relax, baby. Love you~]

A chill crept down my spine.

What were they doing at my mother's grave?

After breakfast, James said he was heading back to work.

I did not believe him.

I printed the old report James' mom had put together on Yvonne years ago and drove to the cemetery.

Two hours later, I stepped through the cemetery gates—and there they were.

Standing in front of my mother's grave.

Yvonne stood in all black, cradling an urn in her arms, eyes filled with sorrow.

Next to her, James gave instructions to three bodyguards as they dug into the empty burial plot to the left of my mother's grave.

They did not see me walking up.

Soon, the bodyguards had dug a deep hole.

Yvonne knelt down and gently placed the urn inside, choking back tears.

"Rest in peace, Ball."

My head pounded as I marched forward and slapped her across the face.

"Who permitted you to use that plot?!"

She turned, startled, her expression a mix of shock and hurt.

"I—" she stammered.

I clenched my jaw and slapped her harder. "Take that urn and get it the hell out of here. Now!"

I rarely lost my temper in public.

I paid a fortune to purchase the two empty plots beside hers—one for my dad, the other for me.

It was her last wish, to have our family of three buried side by side.

It was totally nonsense that Yvonne tried to bury her dog here.

Yvonne's cheeks turned red, and she leaned against James, tears brimming.

"James, she hit me—" she whimpered.

James' face darkened. Clearly, he had not expected me to show up.

He stepped back slightly, putting space between himself and Yvonne. "Michelle, please calm down. Let me explain."

He reached out to touch me, but Yvonne quickly stepped between us.

Yvonne looked up at him innocently, tears running down her swollen cheeks. James swallowed whatever scolding he had been about to give her.

"Michelle, listen to me. I can explain."

I stared at him coldly.

"Shut up. Just tell her to take that dog's urn and leave."

James sighed. "She didn't mean any harm, she just wanted the dog to rest in peace. She promised not to put up a tombstone. Maybe we can just—"

"No. Not happening." I was shaking with rage. "My mother hated dogs, you know that. If the dog is buried here, I swear we're getting a divorce today.

"My mom would never have accepted a son-in-law like you. Don't forget how good she was to you when she was alive."

It was the first time I had ever brought up divorce. James' expression turned grim.

"Michelle—"

Yvonne suddenly burst into loud sobs.

"I've heard about you, Michelle," she sniffled. "I get that you're in a bad mood, but we could've handled it quietly. Stop being stubborn.

"Just yell at me if you just need to yell at someone. I hate seeing James so torn up—"

My eyes narrowed. "You asked for it."

I grabbed her hair and dragged her to the edge of the hole the guards had just dug. Then I kicked her hard, forcing her to her knees.

She cried louder, pitiful and dramatic.

I did not even blink.

"Pick up that urn. Go to my mother's grave. Kneel. Apologize. Or I will rip your face off."

Yvonne trembled. She reached the urn and looked up at James, eyes full of silent pleading.

His face darkened even more.

"Enough," he said. "The urn isn't even buried yet. It's going too far to force her to kneel and apologize."

My heart pounded.

"Am I? There are many cemeteries out there, but why my mother's? She's desecrating my mother's peace. What the hell do you think she's trying to do?"

Yvonne sobbed harder and said, "Michelle, please don't yell at James. I'll kneel."

She started to move, but James held her back, gently taking the urn from her. "You don't have to kneel. I'll take you somewhere else to bury Ball."

The two of them turned and walked away, leaving me behind like I was the one who had done something wrong.

I let out a bitter laugh and turned to the bodyguards.

"Fill the hole back up."

Just then, something caught my eye.

The empty plot on the other side of my mother's grave—the one I had also bought, had a brand new tombstone.