After we entered the house, he skillfully leaned down to kiss me, his hands wandering over my body. The scent of Monica's perfume on him made me feel sick to my stomach, and I pushed him away.

I said, "Let's not. I just finished the housework, and I'm all sweaty. I haven't showered yet."

A flash of disgust crossed his eyes, though he quickly masked it and replied with feigned patience, "It must've been tiring for you, honey. You should let the housekeeper handle the chores from now on."

"You're my wife, after all. I should be spoiling you, not having you do all that manual labor," he added.

Then, Reynold released me and headed to his study, claiming he had unfinished work. He didn't return to our bedroom until late that night.

I lay with my back to him, pretending to be asleep. After he fell into a deep sleep, I saw his phone screen lighting up with a new message.

I reached over and picked it up. I picked it up and saw a message on his Instagram, a pinned contact with no name, just a profile picture of a kitten.

When I clicked on the profile, several selfies of Monica immediately filled my screen. Their chat was sickeningly sweet.

Monica: "Reynold, did you enjoy it in the office today?"

Reynold: "My little temptress, you're driving me crazy."

Monica: "Reynold, how about we do it in the car tonight? We haven't tried that yet!"

Reynold: "Sure! Anything you want!"

Monica: "Reynold, I really want that newly released designer handbag ."

Reynold: "It's yours. I'll give you anything you want as long as you keep me happy."

I scrolled up to find countless money transfers, roughly estimating at least three million dollars, not to mention all the jewelry Monica had shown off on her social media. On her birthday, Reynold had even bought her an oceanfront mansion worth over ten million dollars.

In their photos together, Reynold gazed at her with deep affection and tenderness. Meanwhile, I did not even ask for anything extravagant for my birthday.

All I wanted was for him to take me to an amusement park—something simple, something fun, something just for us. Yet, he immediately refused, saying we were too old for that kind of thing.

The pain in my chest became unbearable, and it was almost suffocating. Then, I exited their chat. While I had been thoughtfully considering his every need, he had been lavishing money on another woman, practically offering her his heart on a silver platter.

I could not sleep all night, so I finally contacted a friend and asked them to help me find a reliable divorce lawyer. Reynold woke up at some point and, seeing me on the phone, asked curiously, "Honey, are you going out today?"

I smiled at him and said, "It's nothing important. Just an old classmate who's back from Moraino. We're meeting for lunch."

He hugged me from behind, his voice dripping with sweetness. "Is that so? Please be careful, and call me if anything happens. Do you want me to have the driver take you?"

I shook my head. "No need. I'll be back soon."

He kissed my forehead and said, "Well, I'm off to work. Let's have dinner together tonight."

After seeing him out, I compiled all the details of our shared assets from over the years, along with records of his financial transactions with Monica, and sent everything to the lawyer.

Later, the lawyer responded that they would prepare a complete divorce agreement within three days. I finally felt a sense of relief.

Despite his promise of dinner together, Reynold did not come home that night. He sent a message claiming he needed to work late at the office and told me not to wait up.

Meanwhile, the company's Twitter account posted a video celebrating their anniversary event. The video showed Reynold and Monica popping champagne together. When the bubbly sprayed on Monica's face, he gently wiped it away with such tender care—exactly like a lovestruck couple.

When I arrived at the hotel, the celebration was in full swing. Just then, Reynold announced he was giving Monica half the company shares and presented her with 5.21 million dollars in cash right there on stage, symbolizing his love for her.

I recorded the entire scene and sent the video to my lawyer as evidence. All of this was marital property, and every penny he had taken would have to be returned to me.

Stacks of cash sat displayed on the stage as employees below whispered among themselves.

One commented, "OMG! Mr. Scott is being super generous! Half the company shares—that must be worth millions! People like us could never earn that much!"

"Hey, that's Ms. Cline we're talking about. Haven't you noticed? Mr. Scott might as well move her into his house at this point," another replied.

"But isn't Mr. Scott married? I heard he's been with his wife for years."

Another chimed in, "So what? I've seen Mrs. Scott, and she's nowhere near Monica's level! She's overweight, and her face is all puffy, covered in freckles—nothing like the young and beautiful Ms. Cline.

"Plus, Mrs. Scott is just a housewife, while Ms. Cline has helped Mr. Scott land tons of partnership deals!"

I smiled silently and joined the other employees in applauding the celebration. When Reynold spotted me, panic flashed across his face.

He stammered, "H-Honey? What are you doing here? I was just in a good mood and decided to give Ms. Cline a bonus, that's all..."

Meanwhile, Monica had no intention of playing it down. She turned to me with a smug, almost taunting look and said, "Mrs. Scott, don't take it the wrong way."

She added, "Mr. Scott has always been considerate toward his employees. He gave me half the company shares and a 5.21 million cash bonus because I've earned it with my hard work!"

The previously lively banquet hall fell completely silent as everyone waited to see who would emerge victorious—the wife or the mistress.

Nonetheless, I could not be bothered to argue with her. I had come specifically to gather evidence of Reynold transferring marital assets to his mistress, and with the video I had just recorded, my mission was accomplished.

I replied flatly, "Ms. Cline has contributed a lot to the company. It's only right that she's rewarded."

Reynold visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping with relief.

"All employees who help the company make money should be properly compensated. Honey, go ahead and continue your work. I'll just look around on my own," I continued.

Seeing me walk away, Reynold assumed I was angry and hurried after me, frantically explaining his relationship with Monica. He insisted they were strictly employer and employee. He even claimed that Monica had secured billion-dollar contracts for the company, so he rewarded her with shares and cash.

I secretly scoffed at his explanation. Those billion-dollar contracts were from long-term business partners who renewed them out of loyalty to me—Monica had nothing to do with it.

Reynold had already taken away my ability to have children for Monica. Yet, he still had the audacity to act like a loving husband. His hypocrisy disgusted me.

I simply said, "I understand Ms. Cline has contributed greatly to the company. You can reward her however you see fit!"

After I left, he texted me. "Let's celebrate the company's anniversary, just the two of us another day. I'll prepare a big surprise for you!"

Sitting by the hotel pool, I finalized property division details with my lawyer over the phone. Just as I hung up, Monica approached me.

"Mrs. Scott, why are you sitting here all alone?" she asked with a challenging smile. "Why aren't you celebrating with everyone else?"

"Are you feeling embarrassed? I mean... It's such an important day, so why are you dressed so..." She left the sentence unfinished, but her eyes clearly conveyed her contempt.

My expression turned cold. "What do you want?"

She smiled slightly. "I'm just a secretary. What could I possibly want? I was just wondering, if Mr. Scott had to choose between you and me, who would he pick?"

As soon as Monica finished speaking, she suddenly grabbed my sleeve and began crying, pleading pitifully, "Mrs. Scott, I'm not after the company's money."

She whimpered, "The cash and shares were just rewards from Mr. Scott for my hard work these past years. If you're upset, I can give them back."

Before I could even react, Reynold rushed over and grabbed my hand, demanding, "Adrianna, what you doing? I've told you the bonus and shares are employee benefits. Why are you giving Monica such a hard time?"

I turned to see other employees gathering around, pointing and whispering among themselves. Apparently, they thought I was being unreasonable.

When I looked back at Monica, she was staring at me with a smug expression. I frowned and pulled my arm free.

I replied, "You're the one managing the company. If you want to hand out bonuses and stock, that's your decision. I won't interfere."

Without sparing him another glance, I turned and walked away. Just as I was about to leave the hotel, he chased after me with a displeased look, grabbing my hand.

He growled, "Where are you going? The celebration dinner is about to start! You're not a child, Adrianna. You can't just throw a tantrum like this."

Monica followed him, apologizing with a victimized expression. "Mrs. Scott, don't be angry. I'll return the bonus and the shares after the party. There's no need to fight with Mr. Scott over this."

She added, "You're Mr. Scott's wife, and you should be at the celebration with us. Let's go back inside together."

I noticed the venom behind Monica's eyes and could not help but smirk. She was probably desperate to replace me and become Reynold's wife herself.

Soon, the hotel shuttle arrived, and Reynold and Monica naturally sat side by side. I remained silent and deliberately sat in the back row.

Throughout the ride, Monica kept engaging Reynold in conversations about topics only they shared, constantly highlighting how good Reynold was to her. I felt like an outsider, completely out of place.

Reynold kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror, seeming like he wanted to say something several times. However, Monica kept interrupting him.

When we arrived at the hotel restaurant, some employees who did not recognize me immediately greeted Monica, "Good evening, Mrs. Scott."

"Mrs. Scott, it's been a while! You look even more beautiful."

The atmosphere instantly grew awkward as employees familiar with the situation quickly corrected the new hires, creating an uncomfortable silence. Noticing this, Reynold hurriedly pushed me toward the private dining room, smiling at me in an attempt to appease me.

He urged, "Let's go in. Everyone else is waiting. It's such a joyous occasion, so cheer up. I even prepared you a surprise!"

I let out a cold chuckle. "Got it. I'm looking forward to it. Anyway, I need to use the restroom first. Don't worry about me."

With that, Reynold finally relaxed and headed to the dining room. After he left, I called my lawyer, who informed me that the divorce papers and property division agreement were ready. He even guaranteed that Reynold would end up with nothing.

After hanging up, I pushed open the door to the private room. Monica approached me with a glass of wine.

She said, "Mrs. Scott, let me toast you. You've worked so hard for Mr. Scott all these years, even ruining your health in the process."

As she spoke, she gave me a meaningful once-over. Ignoring her taunt, I replied flatly, "No thanks. I don't feel like drinking. Juice will be fine."

Reynold suddenly frowned. "Adrianna, you can handle alcohol just fine. Why won't you drink? You used to..."

Then, as if he had just remembered something, he hesitated. He probably recalled all those nights when I accompanied him to endless business meetings, drinking, entertaining investors, and singing at private lounges to help him secure deals.

However, Monica acted as if she had not noticed the shift in the atmosphere. She pushed the wine glass in front of me and pressured me to drink as if my refusal was an insult to her.

She said sweetly, "Please, just one sip. For me?"

I suppressed my irritation. "I already said I don't want to drink!"

Reynold's expression gradually darkened. Seeing this, Monica grew even bolder, grabbing my hand to force me to take the glass.

I pulled away forcefully, but she used the momentum to fall to the floor, clutching her stomach. The wine glass shattered on the floor, and Reynold jumped to his feet.

He shouted, "Adrianna, what are you doing?"