Chapter 3

Chapter 3

My memories flickered onto the massive screen.

"Honey, you must be exhausted. I warmed some milk for you. Drink it while it's hot."

In the projection, I was sitting in my home office, staring intently at my laptop. When Wyatt walked in, I waved my hand frantically, gesturing for him to leave with a sharp, stern look.

The live chat exploded.

[Look at that nasty attitude! Her husband went out of his way to warm milk for her late at night, and she acts like he's garbage!]

[If I were her husband, I would've thrown that milk right in her face.]

The audience's outrage was palpable.

After reviewing the clip, the judge frowned and announced, "No toxic conduct detected. Daphne Howard is not guilty on this count."

The chat went ballistic.

[Are you kidding me? How is that not toxic? She treats her husband like dirt, is the judge blind?]

[There's definitely foul play! That bitch must've bribed the court. I'm reporting this!]

The video continued to play.

Wyatt ignored my frantic hand gestures and walked right over to my desk, muttering under his breath.

"I warmed this up twice. Milk is good for your stomach. Whatever you're doing, stop right now and drink it!"

On the laptop screen, the corporate executives glared at me in annoyance.

I muted my microphone, apologizing profusely to my colleagues, before turning to Wyatt with strained patience.

"Wyatt, just leave the glass on the desk. I'll drink it later. I'm in the middle of a multi-million-dollar board meeting, and I can't afford to mess this up."

Even though I explained things calmly, Wyatt flew into a tantrum.

"Daphne! Money is all you ever care about! Is it a crime to look after your health? I do all the chores and cook every meal, and bringing you a glass of milk makes me a nuisance?"

With a violent shove, Wyatt tipped the glass over my laptop.

I scrambled to save the machine, but it was too late. The keyboard sparked, short-circuited, and billowed grey smoke.

The multi-million-dollar deal went down the drain. I stared at him, trembling with rage.

Instead of apologizing, Wyatt put his hands on his hips and yelled back.

"It's just a stupid computer! Why are you glaring at me like that? I must have been blind to marry someone like you!"

He slammed the door and stormed out.

[Wait… am I the only one who thinks his 'caring' is suffocating? She clearly said she was in an important meeting and explained it nicely. How does that make her toxic?]

[Try being a stay-at-home spouse for years! The endless chores and expenses drive you insane. Is it that hard for a wife to just say thank you?]

Watching the chat argue back and forth, I let out a cold smirk.

These clueless strangers loved nothing more than sitting on their moral high horses, lecturing others about things they knew nothing about.

Down below, Wyatt noticed some viewers defending him, so he immediately turned on the waterworks.

"I was just worried about my wife. I didn't want the milk to get cold and upset her stomach. None of you who haven't been a househusband could ever understand my pain. I have no job, and I have to beg my wife for every penny.

"Living under someone else's roof made me walk on eggshells every day. I was just terrified she'd leave me."

He wept bitterly, winning over another wave of gullible spectators.

The screen was split in two: one side showed my memory, while the other streamed the courtroom live. Watching his sickeningly fake act made my stomach churn.

[Men really need their own careers. Wives always think they give too much money, but running a household costs a fortune.]

[Exactly! If her husband was so tired, why didn't she just hire a maid?]

As the comments buzzed with pity for him, I turned toward the camera with a faint, icy smile.

"First of all, I handed over my entire monthly salary of fifteen thousand dollars, along with my annual bonuses. I only kept a few bucks for gas and lunch.

"Second, I hired a full-time housekeeper. If anyone doubts that, I can pull up the bank statements right now."

The chat fell dead silent.

All the accusations vanished instantly.

Panicking, Wyatt stammered into the mic.

"Fifteen grand is nothing! That barely covers a designer belt! Besides, the maid was terrible, and I always had to clean up after her mess anyway!

"Even if that's true, what about the domestic abuse? You can't deny that you beat me!"