As soon as I receive my year-end bonus, I transfer 100 thousand dollars to my wife, Zoe Steele, so that she can prepare the holiday gifts for both families right away. I even tell her to buy the best quality gifts for our parents, especially the box of premium liquor meant for my dad.

On New Year's Eve, I rush home to have dinner with my parents. But weirdly enough, Dad, who's an avid drinker, starts having tea instead of liquor at the dining table.

This leaves me perplexed. "Dad, why aren't you cracking open a bottle of liquor for yourself during the holidays?"

With a smile on my face, I get up to my feet so that I can carry the box of liquor over.

"Zoe had someone buy the liquor for you, you know. I hear that the taste is exceptional."

"Stop!"

Dad slams his pipe against the table loudly, his face a starking shade of crimson.

"Edgar, don't ever send such gifts home. I know that life is difficult for you in the city and that making money is hard. We Kennedys may be poor, but we are people with pride!

"Now, everyone in the village is gossiping about us behind our backs! They claim that I've been boasting about your wealth!"

Dad's words confuse me to no end. After I unscrew a bottle of liquor, I sip from it, only to feel thunderstruck.

This isn't premium liquor at all! This is just mineral water packaged as liquor!

The dining table had gone silent.

"Son, come with me."

Mom led me to the backyard and pushed open the storage shed. In the corner, more than a dozen cases of identical premium liquor bottles sat stacked neatly. Some of the boxes were already damp and moldy, while others were covered in spiderwebs.

These were the New Year gifts I had asked my wife, Zoe Steele, to arrange over the past three years.

"Wh-What is all this?" My voice came out hoarse. My throat was tight.

Mom sighed. "The first year you sent them back, your father was thrilled. He called your uncles over to celebrate with a drink.

"But the moment he poured the liquor, everyone's face fell. Your father refused to believe it. He insisted his taste was off and opened another bottle. The result was the same."

She was crying again. "After that, every New Year and holiday, you kept sending liquor back. Your father was terrified of hurting you, of embarrassing you in front of everyone, so he never said a word.

"He hid all these bottles here and told everyone he was saving them for special occasions. People in the village have been talking behind our backs, saying you made it big in the city and learned to deceive your own parents."

My hands were shaking. The bottle I held dug painfully into my palm.

However, Zoe had told me this liquor came from special factory connections. She said she had pulled strings to get it. How could it be fake?

If this liquor was fake, then where had the hundred thousand dollars I gave her each year for New Year gifts actually gone?

I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to smash something. I pulled out my phone and dialed Zoe's number.

"Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently turned off."

She told me she was working today. Why would her phone be off?

I suddenly remembered that for the past few years, she had suggested we each return to see our own families for the New Year. She claimed she wanted to spend more time with her parents. In three years of marriage, we had never once spent New Year's Eve together.

When I returned to the dining table and saw my parents' cautious, guilt-filled eyes, something twisted in my chest.

I forced a smile. "Dad, Mom, this is my fault. We were trying to save money. We found an unreliable merchant and got scammed with fake goods.

"Don't worry, I'll get a refund and make sure to send you the real thing."

After finally settling my parents down for the night, I called Zoe again. This time it connected.

From the other end came the sound of cards shuffling and a man's rough laughter.

"I won! Pay up!"

Then came Zoe's impatient voice. "What do you want, Edgar? I'm busy. I have a pile of reports to fill out. This is driving me crazy."

My knuckles turned white around the phone. I took a deep breath. "Nothing much. I just wanted to ask where you bought the liquor you got for my parents."

The line went quiet for several seconds.

When she finally answered, something in her voice sounded wrong. "From the factory, obviously. Look, I have to go. My boss is calling me. Talk later."

I stared at the bottle in my hand, the one that cost two dollars to make, and the irony made me sick. To afford decent New Year gifts for both our parents, I had worked myself to the bone for two months straight and never saw my bed before 2:00 am.

Just last week, an ambulance had rushed me to the hospital for acute stomach bleeding. Yet she had bought my parents counterfeit liquor while lying to me about working overtime.

The anger built with every thought. I opened Zoe's social media feed. It was completely blank.

Before tonight, I would have assumed she was too busy to post anything. Now, I realized she had probably hidden everything from me on purpose.

Something made me remember the spare account I had created back in college. I had followed Zoe on it years ago.

I logged into the old account and opened her profile. Her most recent post had gone up half an hour ago.

The post included nine photos arranged in a grid. The background showed her parents' living room, where their dining table was loaded with expensive dishes.

In the most prominent spot sat two unopened cases of premium aged liquor and two cartons of luxury cigarettes. Even from the photo, I could tell from the ribbon quality that these were authentic.

However, it was the center picture that got me. Zoe wore a red cashmere coat. Her face was glowing with happiness as she nestled against a man.

The man wore a designer suit and raised a wine glass to clink with my father-in-law. My in-laws were grinning so wide that their eyes crinkled shut.

The caption read, "The perfect son-in-law came to visit! We're so happy. My husband worked so hard. Love you, babe!"

I recognized that face. He was Caden Walsh, one of Zoe's middle school classmates.

Rage flooded through me and drowned out everything else. I grabbed the case of fake liquor and bolted out the door.

"Eddie, where are you going in the middle of the night?" Dad stumbled after me in his padded jacket. He must have gotten up to use the bathroom.

"Work emergency. I have to go back."

I kept my face turned away because I couldn't let him see my bloodshot eyes. The drive from my hometown to my in-laws' town took six hours. I lost count of how many red lights I ran.

The stabbing pain in my stomach nearly made me lose my grip on the wheel more than once, but I couldn't stop. I pulled up to my in-laws' house in the early morning of New Year's Day. The moment I parked, two figures emerged from the front door.

Zoe had her arm looped through Caden's while they both wore matching outfits and chatted away like they didn't have a care in the world.

Caden was carrying the two bottles of premium liquor and was clearly heading out to give them as gifts. Zoe fussed over his scarf with a tender touch while gazing up at him with open adoration.

I sat in the car and clutched the steering wheel with both hands. My nails dug so hard into the leather that they almost broke through.

Everything in me wanted to charge out there and tear them both apart. I wanted to demand whether Zoe had felt anything at all for me during the past three years. However, I held myself back.

Confronting them now would only end with a fistfight and a trip to the police station, and I would walk away with nothing. I needed them to pay a price ten times worse than what I had suffered.

I watched them walk away, laughing and chatting as they headed out to grab breakfast. After taking a deep breath, I pulled on a mask and hat before slipping out of the car.

My in-laws lived in one of those old walk-up buildings where the walls were paper-thin. I crept through the entrance and ducked into the corner landing between the first and second floors.

Piles of junk cluttered the space and gave me the perfect cover while still letting me hear everything happening upstairs.

A neighbor's voice drifted down, thick with envy. "Your son-in-law is really something special. I saw all those things he brought up last night. All that liquor and those cigarettes must've cost a fortune."

I held my breath and strained to hear more.

"You better believe it!" My mother-in-law Linda Kirk's voice shot up an octave, barely containing her pride.

"That's premium aged liquor! They're probably 3,000 dollars a bottle! Caden bought two whole cases because he said spoiling us shouldn't be done halfway. And those cigarettes are the expensive kind!"

I laughed bitterly. That was my money. My blood and sweat from all those sleepless nights.

The neighbor made appreciative noises. "He's so generous! Not like mine, who pinches every penny. So what happened to your daughter's last husband? Did they get a divorce?"

Everything in me went still.

Linda snorted like she was discussing something dirty. "That loser Edgar Kennedy? They divorced ages ago! The man was cheap as hell!"

The words knocked the air out of me. Zoe had told everyone we were divorced?

No wonder she never let me come visit for the holidays and always claimed she wanted me to spend more time with my own parents.

Just then, footsteps echoed from the building entrance. Zoe and Caden were back.

I pressed myself deeper into the pile of junk. Their conversation carried clearly through the stairwell.

"Breakfast cost just over 50 dollars. Everything is so expensive." Zoe's voice had taken on a whiny, flirtatious tone.

"Who cares? That idiot is footing the bill anyway." Caden's voice dripped with contempt and smugness. "Speaking of which, how much did your ex give you this year?"

"Same as always. 100 grand."

Zoe laughed, and the sound was full of mockery. Caden pulled her close, and he kissed her loudly.

"That's my clever wife. You've got him wrapped around your finger. Just be careful that he doesn't catch on."

"Catch on to what?" Zoe's voice turned sharp and nasty. "He's got mush for brains. All he does is work overtime. He never pays attention to anything at home.

"Besides, even if he did figure it out, so what? I control all the money. What's he going to do about it?

"Once I've bled him dry, I'll lay it all out for him and make sure he leaves with nothing!"

Their laughter faded as they climbed the stairs, and then a door slammed shut somewhere above.

The stairwell fell silent again. I crouched in the dark corner, grinding my teeth so hard they might shatter.

I thought about what I'd gone through for that 100 thousand dollars. I thought about how I had smiled and groveled at dinner tables with clients, drinking until my stomach bled and paramedics had to carry me out.

I thought about the look in my parents' eyes when they saw that storage room full of fake liquor—that mixture of shame and heartbreak.

The hatred in me grew even stronger.