My husband, Vincent Adams, used a secret Twitter account to post for help: [Help! My wife's postpartum weight makes her look like a pig. I'm disgusted every time I see her. What should I do?]

I spent the night hanging a banner outside his office: [I never called you useless; how dare you call me fat? Fat can be lost, but useless is a permanent condition!]

——

In the middle of the night, while nursing our baby, I noticed Vincent's phone flashing continuously.

I picked it up to turn it off and accidentally stumbled upon his secret Twitter account.

There, he had posted asking for advice: [Help! My wife's postpartum weight makes her look like a pig. I'm disgusted every time I see her. What should I do?]

The replies were brutal. One person blasted him: [Your wife worked hard to give you a child, and you have the nerve to complain about her? Have you lost all sense of decency?]

Vincent had the gall to respond: [I'm a man with needs. Isn't it normal to have desires?]

My blood ran cold. My hands trembled, and I struggled to catch my breath.

After two years of dating and three years of marriage, I had no idea my partner could be such a monster.

During the two months after giving birth, when my body was still recovering, Vincent showed no concern for my well-being or help with the baby. Instead, all he cared about was his own needs.

Fury surged through me, and I wanted to smash the phone in his face and drag him out of bed to confront him.

But thinking about his odd behavior since I became pregnant, I bit my tongue.

I knew that confronting him right now wouldn't solve anything and might just alert him.

At that moment, I felt an unsettling calm.

If he had truly betrayed me, I wouldn't waste another minute with him.

So, for now, I needed to investigate thoroughly.

Holding his phone, I sneaked into the bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet, my trembling hands quickly scrolled through his various social media apps.

Maybe it was because I never checked his phone before; he had blatantly kept all the flirty messages with female netizens.

Words like "wife," "kisses," "baby," and even sexual organs flooded the screen.

It was completely different from his usual gentle and cultured persona.

In college, the reason I chose him among many suitors was precisely because, despite his humble family background, he was neither arrogant nor servile, polite, and unlike other worldly men!

But now, I realized how wrong I was.

What elegance, what scholarly demeanor, it was all a lie!

Behind the scenes, he was so filthy and disgusting.

Besides, there were numerous transfer records.

Facing these significant amounts, I completely lost control.

I thought, Damn it. I earn this money through hard work and sleepless nights!

With his pittance of a salary, forget about transferring money to girls, he would struggle to even afford a few meals.

It was all because I trusted him too much.

Whether it was a relative from his hometown who was seriously ill and needed money or a friend who got into trouble and required help, I always gave the money without hesitation. This gave him the capital to misbehave outside.

My chest heaved violently, but I restrained my rage, took photos of these evidences, and saved them. I also noted down the contact information of those women, preparing for counterattack.

After everything was done, I walked out of the bathroom and sneakily slipped the phone back under his pillow.

One sleepless night left me in a terrible state.

Vincent's mother, Amy Adams, started her day with a loud commotion in the living room. She was screaming about not having breakfast and claimed she was suffering from low blood sugar, demanding an ambulance to the hospital.

Disturbed from his dreams, Vincent, still groggy, kicked me and grumbled, "Why don't you get Mom something to eat?

"She's old enough; do you want her to starve?"

I thought, In the two months since giving birth, when I still need care myself, he has the gall to expect me to act as a maid?

My already shattered heart turned to ice at that moment.

But I couldn't afford to wallow in my sadness. The baby, startled by Vincent's impatient shouting, began to cry uncontrollably.

I hurriedly picked him up, cradling him carefully.

"Alice, sweetheart, don't cry. Mommy's here with your milk."

As I spoke, Vincent leaped out of bed, visibly annoyed, and stormed out, muttering under his breath.

"Crying again, always crying! Can't even start the day without a tantrum.

"She's draining all the good fortune from this house."

Amy soon joined in with her sharp comments, adding, "Honestly, you should just leave the baby with your parents and take care of yourself before thinking about having another one."

She had been harping on about wanting a grandchild since Alice was born.

What she didn't know was that even Alice had only come into existence through artificial insemination.

Out of respect for Vincent's pride, I had never shared this with anyone.

Not even her, though she was his mother.

However, she had continuously pushed her luck, making trouble for me.

Out of respect for her age and to avoid causing Vincent further embarrassment, I had kept my patience in check.

But now, with thoughts of possibly kicking Vincent out of the house, I didn't care about her anymore.

I wasn't rushing to confront her, though.

I needed more evidence of Vincent's infidelity.

I wanted him to know that I wasn't someone to be trifled with!

I intended to make him pay dearly and ruin him completely.