Every time it was over, Jasper would fall asleep almost instantly.

I would quietly gather our clothes scattered across the floor and toss them into the washing machine. Out of habit, I always checked the pockets before washing.

One night, I pulled out a bottle of unsealed folic acid.

That bottle alone turned me into Sherlock Holmes.

I secretly went through Jasper's phone, and what I found confirmed everything: endless chat logs with Bianca.

Shopping records showed luxury goods worth millions. Credit card records showed a house and a luxury car—all bought for her.

Like every cheating man, he drowned his mistress in endless indulgence.

And when I had broken my leg in the mountains, begging him to drive me to the hospital, he was busy taking Bianca up to the Rockies to see the cherry blossoms in full bloom, swearing eternal love to her in flowery vows.

When I was bent under the weight of my mother-in-law, caring for bedpans and cleaning up after her in the hospital, he was with Bianca in Paris, renting the most expensive love suite, hiring ten servants, never leaving the room for a month, proudly recording how they had unlocked 108 different positions.

He used my hard-earned cash to pamper his mistress and play with investments as I worked my fingers to the bone raising and selling chickens to make a living.

Now, all the guests at the party were gathered, staring at me—the woman who had suddenly appeared. Their eyes were filled with a curious, almost eerie gaze.

I gave a cold laugh.

Slowly, without haste, I reached into my bag and pulled out my marriage certificate with Jasper. "You ignored the law, living with another woman's husband, having children in his name. Tell me, who's really the one being shameless here?"

Bianca's face drained of color. She turned to Jasper with a pitiful look, playing the classic manipulative damsel act, baiting his instinct to protect her.

Meanwhile, Jasper lunged for the marriage certificate, but I flicked my wrist, leaving him grasping at air.

He glared at me, his voice low and furious.

"I told you not to make a scene. Don't you understand?" Jasper said authoritatively, as if I were just one of his employees, and he was the boss giving orders.

I laughed coldly, my gaze locked on him.

Had he forgotten?

Back then, he was nothing more than a puppy at my feet. Now he's still a dog, just fawning over someone else's woman, but he seems to forget that the same water that lifts a boat can also sink it. I built him up, and I could tear him down completely.

"Why do you keep saying I'm making a scene? Isn't it kind of tradition—back in the day, if a husband messed around, the other woman would at least show some respect to the wife? I even brought her two chickens to take care of her health. I'd say that's more than generous for a first wife," I said, calm and controlled, not yelling or whining, but every word landed like a knife, cutting through their pride.

Jasper's face grew darker, sweat beading cold across his forehead.

The guests' whispers swirled, fueling his shame even more.

Someone muttered aloud, "So the twins are illegitimate, then?"

Bianca broke into tears, clutching the children, looking every inch the helpless victim. "Jasper, I don't want to make things difficult for you. The children and I shouldn't have existed in the first place. I'll take them and leave."

She intentionally directed her tear-filled eyes at me, appearing as if I had bullied her past her limit.

"I'm not looking to start a fight, but I can stay out of your way. You can have Jasper. I ask that you stop smearing me and not drag my kids into this."

With that, she turned as if to leave, playing her retreat-to-advance game.

And sure enough, Jasper fell for it. Panic flashed across his face as he hurriedly pulled her and the babies into his arms.

The picture they made looked like a happy family of four.

He glanced at me, eyes conflicted, then raised his voice.

"If you have a problem, take it on me, Katie. Don't bully Bianca. We've been separated for a long time, the divorce is already in process!"

"You just want more money. I can give you more. Just apologize to Bianca," Jasper insisted.

I never expected to see Jasper display this kind of face. To protect Bianca's reputation, he actually had the nerve to shift the blame back onto me.

So I went along, replying, "Fine. I can apologize. Tell me, how much will one apology cost me? If you're willing to pay up, I'll apologize until you're broke."

Jasper's frown deepened. He clearly hadn't expected me to flip his little script like that.

Bianca couldn't keep her mouth shut when the second sum of money came in.

She put on that pitiful, wounded act and whined, "Jasper, I don't want her apology. She wouldn't mean it anyway. Just make things clear with her today. Save us the trouble of her stalking us and spreading lies. I don't want my children influenced by someone like her."

Of course, the onlookers jumped right in with their commentary.

"Looks like she just doesn't want the divorce. Trying to wring more money out of Mr. Coleman by causing a scene," one woman muttered, shaking her head.

Across the room, another voice piped up. "Seriously, how could some farm girl be worthy of Mr. Coleman? Look at her! Does she really think she's all that?"

Even further back, someone else chimed in, nodding toward Bianca. "She's throwing dirt at another woman just to save her skin. Calling someone a whore? That's disgusting."

Jasper put on an air of generosity, speaking with forced calm. "Go home for now. I'll give you an explanation. I won't let you be wronged."

He even motioned for me to leave, like he was the magnanimous one.

My smile for him was forced, the kind that comes from a wounded heart.

"Jasper, over a chicken, you treat me like this? Remarkable," I replied.

Bianca's face twisted with fury. She let out a shrill cry and snapped, "Who are you calling a chicken? That's too much. You're the real chicken!"

Someone in the crowd, eager to stir the pot, shouted half-jokingly, "Is there really someone out there doing that for money?"

I raised my hand and pointed straight at Bianca, my voice ringing out so every single person could hear. "She is a prostitute! She's been doing it for five years—plenty of men and money."

"Enough!" Jasper's roar cut through the air.

Veins throbbed at his temples, and the fury in his eyes locked on me like a final warning not to push him over the edge.

Bianca collapsed into a dramatic sob, choking out her words. "You're trying to ruin me and the babies! You've spread rumors about me since we were kids. I give up, okay? Just leave me alone!"

Then, like clockwork, she played the same old retreat-to-advance game. "Jasper, I'll raise the children myself. As long as you're with me, Katie will call me a prostitute. How can I live like that?"

And Jasper, of course, still shielded her.

He clutched her tight and jabbed his finger at me, shouting, "You're the prostitute! Do you not know why I want a divorce? Because of you, because of what you do! Stop talking nonsense!"

For a moment, I froze.

Jasper's words sliced through me, leaving a dull, tearing ache in my chest, like my heart had been ripped into pieces.

Then Joanne's voice cut through, sharp as a whip.

"Katie, my son has treated you well enough, yet you're so unchaste, sleeping with so many men, being a free whore. You betrayed the marriage and ruined my son. What right have you to accuse him? You slut!"

This was the same woman I had cared for eight years ago when her legs were paralyzed. I had bathed, fed, carried her bedpans, and nursed her back to health. Now she stood tall and, with a single sentence, drove an invisible blade straight through my chest.

My mother-in-law's accusations shifted the tide.

The crowd wavered, their gazes sharp and accusing, and suddenly it was me they saw as the whore who slandered others to cover her own filth. Every pair of eyes felt like a knife stabbing into me.

Then Jasper, still acting all high and mighty, grabbed my arm.

"Get out of here. Don't give everyone another thing to laugh at."

I raised my hand and slapped him.

Jasper blinked, taken aback momentarily, then forced down his anger and tried to reason. "We were married. Can't we part amicably?"

"Fine," I shot back. "You walk away with nothing. We'll part peacefully right now."

Joanne went rigid, every muscle coiled like a spring. "You eat his meals, drink his wine, and now you go and hit him? You little bitch! If I could, I'd smack you hard!"

Jasper stepped between them and, with apparent helplessness, demanded of me, "Are you leaving or not?"

Bianca flashed a false, magnanimous smile, then spat the words like acid. "Get out. Do you want me to call the police? Don't push me, Katie! If we weren't friends, I'd have had you arrested already."

I snorted. "I'm not leaving. Why should I? The real show is only just getting started."

Jasper had had enough. He barked an order, and his bodyguards moved to throw me out.

I did not cooperate. The woman who raised chickens had learned a few tricks.

With a couple of well-placed moves, I had both guards flat on the floor.

Bianca immediately dialed the police.

When the officers arrived, Jasper hesitated for a few seconds, then told them, "She's a prostitute. She came to make trouble today. Take her in so she can be taught a lesson."

I laughed bitterly at myself for being so blind to love someone like Jasper Coleman for so long.

The police were prepared to take me in for questioning.

I refused and shouted, "I am not a prostitute. Bianca is the real prostitute! I have evidence. I want to report her!"

As I reached for my proof, Bianca suddenly fell to the floor, cradling her children in her arms.

Jasper's face showed concern as he scooped her up and hurried out.

Passing by me, he glared with barely hidden fury.

"You'd better pray nothing happens to Bianca," Jasper spat.

Clutching her granddaughter in panic, Joanne hurried after them toward the hospital and did not forget to remind the doctors along the way, "Keep her under observation! That woman has no conscience."

With the main players gone, the party guests left hungry and bewildered.

Meanwhile, the police took me away for a statement. After I recounted the entire story, they released me.

Word travels fast. When Jasper found out I hadn't been detained, he called.

Over the phone, he returned to that old, gentle tone.

"Katie, I'm sorry. This is my fault. I don't want to lose you, but I have responsibilities to Bianca. We have a child together. She can't lose her reputation. How would she live afterwards?"

I laughed incredulously.

"So her reputation matters, but what about mine? Jasper, has your conscience been eaten by dogs?" I snapped.

He did not get angry.

He said calmly, "Katie, Bianca has given me more than you ever have. She did things she shouldn't have, but her circumstances trapped her. People look down on being poor, not on sex work. Can't you cut her some respect? She promised she won't take your place. You keep your chickens, I'll keep running the company, she'll raise our kid. Let's leave things as they are, alright?"

Fury surged through me like wildfire, scorching every nerve. The words 'go to hell' burned on my tongue, ready to explode, but he pressed on before I could speak.

"I heard someone plans to post this online. Bianca's a mother now. I don't want our kids growing up and discovering what kind of woman their mom used to be. So, Katie, you need to make a public apology. Say you were a prostitute, admit you lied about Bianca. You raise chickens in the mountains, so this won't destroy you. But it will destroy her. Please… I'm begging you."

I had reached the limit of what I could bear.

So, I retorted, "Not only will I never apologize, I'll make sure you and your whore get what you deserve!"

Furious, I slammed the phone down and ended the call.

I didn't expect Jasper to sneak into my social media account and post an 'apology' in my voice. He wrote that I was confessing to once being a prostitute.

Overnight, I became internet-famous, but not in a good way. I turned into a punching bag, the kind of target people point at and ridicule.

My personal information was exposed and spread all over the internet.

Every morning, I woke up to a flood of insults. Messages flooded in like trash—some from men who wanted to sleep with me, acting like I was just some cheap hooker.

I was just about to go live to set the record straight when the police knocked on my door. Bianca had filed a report claiming I had stressed her into illness and caused her bodily harm. She refused to settle. And my husband, Jasper, stood by her side, testifying that I had hurt her and asking the police to detain me for 're-education.'

I didn't waste a moment and hired a top lawyer to handle the cops. At the same time, I filed a lawsuit against Jasper and Bianca for bigamy.

Then I picked up the phone and called several of his company's investors.

I didn't mince words and said, "You don't need to keep investing out of courtesy to me."

Jasper had always treated me like I was just some backwoods chicken farmer.

Fine, then. If that's how he saw me, I'd show him I wasn't just raising chickens. I was the capital. And I would strip him down until he had nothing left.