The next morning, Garrett emerged from the guest room with dark circles under his eyes, still radiating the leftover fury of a night of heavy drinking.

He'd spent the night at a bar and fully expected to come home to "Serena" perched on the couch with red-rimmed eyes, waiting for him. Instead, the house was pitch dark. She hadn't even left a light on.

Irritated, he loosened his tie, walked to the dining room, and pulled out his chair with the ease of habit.

"Serena, where's my black coffee? And Vivian's stomach is sensitive—go make her some avocado smoothie."

Silence. A full ten seconds of it.

No soft "Of course, honey." No quiet clink of a coffee cup meeting the table.

Garrett frowned and looked up.

"I" was seated at the far end of the dining table, holding a steaming glass of milk, sipping it at a leisurely pace.

Hearing his orders, "I" didn't even lift an eyelid. Just let a few words fall out, flat and final:

"Want coffee? Pour it yourself. Want food? Make it yourself. I'm not your hired maid, and I'm certainly not a lapdog for Vivian."

Garrett's palm slammed the table. His eyes went wide with disbelief.

"Serena, did you take something? You used to love playing servant!"

"I" set down the milk, raised "my" head. The face that had always worn a flawless smile now held nothing but undisguised mockery.

"Garrett, do you have some kind of misunderstanding about the word 'love'? What I was doing before was giving you the disability-care treatment. Now that you're clearly able-bodied—and energetic enough to be rolling around with other women—I'm sure a high-difficulty task like pouring coffee is well within your capabilities."

The words landed like a slap across his face.

He froze.

Three years of marriage, and Serena had never once spoken to him like this. She was always meek, always yielding. Even when he screamed in her face, she'd just cry silently.

What had gotten into her? Was she possessed?

Right on cue, Vivian drifted out of the master bedroom wearing one of Garrett's shirts—collar pulled deliberately low, exposing a trail of marks on her neck.

"Garrett, what's going on? All this shouting first thing in the morning." Vivian draped herself against him, eyes sliding to "me" with their usual challenge. "Serena, Garrett was up so late taking care of me. Can't you show a little understanding?"

Before, the AI locked in "Graceful Devotion" mode would have quietly withdrawn.

But now—[Obedience 0%] plus [Sarcastic Mode 100%]—"I" was operating at full combat power.

"I" looked Vivian up and down. Then laughed.

"Vivian, isn't that the shirt Garrett wore to the pig farm inspection last month? He got a bit of manure on it. I washed it three times and still couldn't get the smell out. Looks like it fits you perfectly, though. Really matches the vibe."

Vivian's face turned to stone. She ducked her head and sniffed the shirt in panic, a flash of alarm crossing her eyes.

"You—how dare you!" she shrieked, eyes instantly glistening, turning to Garrett with wounded doe eyes. "Garrett, look at what she's saying to me..."

Garrett erupted, jabbing his finger in "my" face. "Serena, apologize to Vivian right now! Who do you think you are, talking like that?"

"I" rose gracefully and walked right up to him, looking down with the calm authority of a queen.

"Who am I? I'm your legal spouse. Your lawfully wedded wife. And she—"

"I" extended one finger and pointed it, without mercy, at Vivian.

"—is a homewrecker who knew exactly what she was doing when she walked through that door. Garrett, is your skull filled with seawater? You've got a perfectly good life and you're out picking up someone else's trash like it's treasure?"

"Shut up!" Garrett was seeing red. His hand flew up—aiming a vicious slap at "my" face.

Crack!

The sound echoed through the dining room.

But the one who got hit wasn't "me."

In the fraction of a second before his hand connected, "I" caught his wrist with a reaction speed no human could match.

Then—one clean, ringing slap across Garrett Ashford's face.

His head snapped to the side. A thin line of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.

He was stunned. Completely stunned.

Vivian screamed and clapped both hands over her mouth.

"Garrett, I've been holding back for a very long time."

"I" shook "my" hand off as if disgusted by his skin, voice cold as a blade dipped in poison.

"Before, I put up with you because I felt like it. Now I don't feel like it anymore, and you're not even worth the air you breathe."

"You... you hit me?!" Garrett clutched his face, eyes blazing.

"I hit you. Need me to pick a better day for it next time?" "I" smirked. "What—you can parade your mistress around the house, but I can't defend myself? Garrett, do you honestly think every woman on earth exists to orbit you? Take a good look in the mirror. Strip away the Ashford name, and what exactly do you have to show for yourself?"

"That business acumen you're so proud of? You managed to lose $300 million on a simple acquisition—and your father-in-law had to step in and clean up the mess."

"Or maybe it's your fragile ego? Every time someone humiliates you out there, you come home and throw a tantrum at your wife. You call yourself a man?"

"I" didn't miss. Every word found its mark—ripping open Garrett's most guarded, most shameful wounds and leaving them exposed.

His face cycled through colors—fury to white, white to ashen gray.

His chest heaved. His pointing finger trembled.

"Get out... get out of this house!" he screamed, voice cracking.

"I" gave him one last, contemptuous look, then turned toward the bedroom.

"Relax, you don't need to throw me out. Staying another second in this toxic dump makes me nauseous."

Five minutes later, "I" walked out dragging a suitcase.

"Garrett, I've drafted a new divorce agreement and sent it to your email. This time, I'm not just filing for divorce—I'm suing for damages on grounds of marital infidelity. Better get your legal team ready. I'll see you in court."

"I" walked out the front door without a backward glance.

SLAM.

The door cut off Garrett's furious howling and the sound of things being smashed to pieces.