He coaxed me like he always did.

Facing the pitch-black night outside the car window, I silently tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"Got it," I answered obediently. "Then I'll head back now."

After hanging up, I picked up the exquisite gift box on the passenger seat.

Bulk liquor at eighteen dollars a pound, poured into a bottle worth a fortune, instead became the fishhook that could reel them in.

The real show had only just begun.

The car pulled into the underground garage of the apartment complex. The moment I opened the door, Ryan's face arranged itself into a stiff smile.

"Joy, you're back?"

I changed into slippers and walked into the living room like nothing was wrong. Ryan and his mother sat side by side on the couch, their eyes locked on my empty hands.

"Joy, where are those two bottles of liquor?"

Ryan couldn't wait—he stood up, his gaze searching behind me.

"I left them in the car." I said it lightly. "Something that expensive—carrying it up and down, I was afraid I'd accidentally bump it. Anyway, it's the underground garage, and the car's locked. Safe enough."

Mother and son exchanged a quick look.

Mrs. Lambert pulled out a fake smile and scooted closer toward me. "Joy, well, um, winning a prize is a huge deal. How are you planning to use this money?"

Here it comes.

I lifted my eyes and met her flickering gaze. "How to use it? Wasn't it planned ages ago? Buy a bigger place and bring my mom and dad over so we can all live together."

Her fake smile froze instantly, and her voice shot up. "Buy a place and bring your parents over? No! Absolutely not!"

"Mom, what are you saying?" I frowned slightly. "What is there to disagree with? A bigger place, my parents here to enjoy their retirement—it won't affect you. Isn't that a good thing? Ryan and I agreed on this a long time ago."

"Agreed on what!"

Mrs. Lambert waved her hand dismissively. "This liquor was bought with my son's money! The prize money belongs to him—to the Lyons family! We decide how to use it!"

"What does this money have to do with your parents? Bringing them here to live—no way!"

Her words were like knives, fast and vicious.

I turned to Ryan. He was staring at the floor, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Ryan, say something."

I called his name.

"Didn't we plan this together? Save up, buy a place, bring my parents over? Didn't we open a special home-buying fund and deposit money into it every month? You agreed to all of this. You planned it with me."

His body stiffened. His head drooped even lower; his Adam's apple bobbed, but no sound came out.

After hearing this, Mrs. Lambert only grew more aggressive.

"What home-buying fund? That's just you two playing house! Can that be taken seriously? Besides—"

She shot me a sidelong look, the corner of her mouth twisting into an ugly sneer.

"Your dad and your mom—what kind of people are they? Country folks who farm, reeking of dirt. If they came to the city, could they even adjust?"

"Not to mention their habits, their limited worldview—how could that ever match ours? Why should they live with us? It'd be chaos every single day, the whole household turned upside down! The Lyons family can't afford that kind of embarrassment!"

Every word stabbed straight into my chest.

"My parents are farmers. They make a living with their own hands—honest work, not stealing, not scheming." I spoke slowly, deliberately. "They raised me, paid for my schooling, never shortchanged me. Never shortchanged Ryan either. If you look down on them, you're looking down on me."

"Don't try to use that kind of talk to pressure me!"

Mrs. Lambert slapped the armrest and cut me off.

"So what if I look down on them? What I said is the truth!"

"This liquor was bought by my son, and this five million dollars will definitely be handled by my son!"

"Give it to your mom and dad? That's like throwing meat to a dog—gone forever!"

"Enough!"

I raised my voice. My chest heaved with anger, my gaze locked onto the man who'd been silent the whole time.

"Ryan, you're just going to sit there? Your mom talks about my parents like that, and you don't say a word? Our plan, our promises—what do they even mean to you?"

Ryan had nowhere left to hide. He finally lifted his head, his face twisted into something ugly—the look of a man ready to burn it all down.

"Joy… what Mom said… isn't completely wrong. This money came out of nowhere. Our original plan… maybe it really does need some adjustments."

"Adjustments?" I sneered. "Which part? The part where we bring my parents here, or the part where we buy a house?"

Ryan opened his mouth. Before he could speak, Mrs. Lambert jumped in.

"All of it! I'm telling you right now, Joy—don't even think about buying a house…"

She shot Ryan a pointed look.

"Ryan, tell her! Tell her whether that so-called house fund even exists anymore!"

My mind went blank.

Ryan's face cycled through pale and green. His lips moved a few times.

"Joy… the house fund we saved… I had an emergency a while back, so I already… diverted it."

One light sentence.

The last shred of hope shattered with it.

So all those promises about our future had never weighed more than a feather to him.

I looked at this mother and son—one vicious and smug, one spineless and fake.

They took my contributions for granted while grinding the family I loved into the dirt.

On one hand, they brushed off my parents with counterfeit liquor. On the other, they helped themselves to my savings.

And now, facing a fabricated five million dollars, they revealed their true colors—pure, ugly greed.

So this was how rotten the human heart could get.

My voice came out surprisingly calm.

"What emergency? Your dear cousin's gambling debts again? Or did your mom see some new gold bracelet she just had to have?"

"Joy! How can you say that!"

Ryan shot to his feet like I'd stabbed a nerve, his face flushing red.

"Am I wrong?"

I stepped forward, staring him down.

"Ryan, explain it to me. Most of that money was earned by me—what gave you the right to touch it? Where did it go?"

Mrs. Lambert sprang up, hands on her hips, all pretense gone. She jabbed a finger at my face.

"You married into this family, so you belong to the Lyons family! Every penny you earn is ours! A married daughter is water poured out—gone! Don't you dare side with outsiders!"

"And that five million? Forget about it! My son bought that liquor, so the prize belongs to us! Just try and touch it!"

"Liquor your son bought?"

I was so furious I laughed.

"Want me to remind you what was actually in those two bottles of 'Moutai'? Want me to repeat what you said at the door?"

Mrs. Lambert's face went white.

"You… you were eavesdropping? Fine, Joy! So now you've learned to spy at doorways!"

She spat on the floor, then kept right on pointing at my face and shouting like nothing had happened.

"Besides, even if what's inside isn't real Moutai, so what? My son got that bottle! This prize came from my son's luck! It has nothing to do with you, nothing to do with your broke parents—not even a cent!"

I looked at them coldly.

My voice was so calm it didn't carry a single ripple.

"Fine."

"Then guard that 'luck' properly."

I left those icy words hanging, didn't bother watching their faces cycle through their wonderfully varied expressions, turned around, went back to the bedroom, and locked the door.

I knew they wouldn't let it go. That "five million" mirage had already sunk its hooks deep into their souls.

The next morning, just as dawn broke.

I got ready for work like usual and headed down to the underground parking garage.

From a distance, I spotted it—the driver's side window of my white sedan, shattered all over the ground.

My heart dropped. I rushed over.

The inside had been ransacked. The storage compartment hung open, small odds and ends scattered across the seats and floor mats.

On the passenger seat, that dark red Moutai gift box I'd deliberately placed there yesterday had vanished.

Sure enough.

They made their move.

I just hadn't expected them to stoop this low.

Rage shot straight to my head, but I took a deep breath and forced myself to stay calm.

After confirming nothing else was missing, I turned around and went back upstairs.

In the living room, Ryan and Mrs. Lambert sat at the dining table eating breakfast.

My gaze swept over them coldly.

"Ryan, my car was broken into."

His hand holding the spoon paused. He didn't even look up, just gave a vague "Oh."

Mrs. Lambert snorted a laugh and set down her chopsticks.

"Oh, your car was broken into? Did you forget to lock it? Thieves these days really are something—specifically targeting careless people like you."

I kept staring at Ryan. "The Moutai I left on the passenger seat is gone."

He finally raised his head, guilt and impatience flickering across his face.

"If it's gone, it's gone. It wasn't yours anyway. Whoever ends up with it, it's theirs…"

"Whoever ends up with it, it's theirs?"

I was so angry I almost laughed.

"So breaking into my car and stealing my things—in your eyes, that's perfectly fine? That's just skill?"

"Don't make it sound so ugly!"

Mrs. Lambert slammed the table and shot to her feet.

"What do you mean stealing? That liquor was my son's to begin with! My son taking back what's his—what's wrong with that? You're the one who left something that valuable lying around, and you think you're in the right?"

Ryan puffed up like he was going all in, neck jutting out stubbornly.

"Joy, I'm telling you—the bottle's in my hands now. This prize has nothing to do with your parents!"

Something inside me snapped at the sheer absurdity of it all.

"Since you've said it like this. Done things like this."

I took a step back.

"Ryan, let's get a divorce."

His eyes went wide, like he hadn't expected me to say it so cleanly, so decisively.

Mrs. Lambert froze for a second too—but quickly, her expression twisted into pure elation.

"Divorce! You have to divorce!" Her voice trembled with excitement. "Joy, you said it yourself! Don't you dare regret it!"

She yanked hard on Ryan's sleeve.

"Hurry up and divorce her—what are you standing there like an idiot for? A daughter-in-law who only cares about her own family should've been kicked out long ago. Once we get that five million, Mom will find you a better one!"

The shock on Ryan's face crumbled fast, crushed under the weight of greed.

He tried to make his voice sound tough.

"Fine, divorce! But the assets have to be divided properly! That five million…"