Chapter 3 Yes, He's My Husband

John Griffiths, wearing his gold-rimmed glasses, was speechless for a long moment as he stared at the familiar key in Waylon's hand. When he regained his composure, he burst out, "This can't be real! How on earth did you get Debra's key? Did you steal it from her?"

"Steal?" Waylon frowned, clearly annoyed. "Do you think everyone's a thief like you? My wife gave me this key herself! Enough with your nonsense. I've already proven that Debra is my wife. Now, give me the ten thousand dollars."

"You lowlife, you're nothing but a thief!" John's face flushed with anger as he shot back sharply. "You don't deserve Debra. I suggest you turn yourself in at the police station!"

"Planning to go back on your word, are you?" Waylon narrowed his eyes.

"Go back on my word? You clearly stole that key. How dare you accuse me of going back on my word?"

John's eyes seethed with bitterness. "It looks like you won't own up until I sort you out myself, you country bumpkin thief!"

John assumed the classic Taekwondo stance and took a decisive step toward Waylon. With a swift lunge, he aimed a punch directly at Waylon's head.

"Starting a fight, huh?"

Instead of backing down, Waylon deftly dodged John's punch and countered with a sharp shoulder jab to John's chest.

"Ouch!"

The force of the blow knocked John to the ground, making him yelp in pain as if he had been struck by a vehicle. He lay there curled up, writhing in agony.

It hurt terribly!

John had never felt such intense pain. It was as though his bones had been shattered all at once!

"What are you doing?" Just then, a crisp voice cut through the air.

Both Waylon and John looked up to see Debra stepping out of a Maserati. She looked stunning, her beauty cold and imposing.

John's pain momentarily forgotten, he scrambled to his feet and approached her. "Debra, you're back at last. Did you know your house key was stolen?"

"Stolen?" Debra's expression darkened.

"It's him!" John pointed accusingly at a grinning Waylon. "It was this country bumpkin who took your key. I've been battling him to get it back. After dozens of rounds, when he realized he couldn't overpower me, he resorted to dirty tricks and knocked me down. You arrived just in time. I'm holding him here while you call the police. We can't let him get away!"

Determined to win Debra's heart and her fortune, John clenched his teeth and resolved to confront Waylon once more.

"Wait!" Debra interjected.

John paused, turning to face Debra with a puzzled expression.

Debra gave John an odd look and said, "Mr. Griffiths, it seems there's been a misunderstanding. First off, we barely know each other, so there's no need for you to intervene on my behalf. Secondly, the so-called thief hasn't actually stolen anything. I was the one who gave him that key."

"What?" John was taken aback. "Really? You gave him the key? Is he... Is he really your husband?"

"Husband?"

Debra arched an eyebrow, quickly piecing things together. She shot Waylon a frosty look, spotting his self-satisfied grin, which only added to her irritation.

She was tempted to refute it.

But then she recalled how exasperating it was to deal with John's persistent intrusions...

Debra, after carefully considering her options, nodded definitively at John. "Yes, he's my husband!"

John's eyes widened in shock.

Countless rich playboys in Lucset had chased after Debra for years, yet she had chosen this simpleton? It was beyond belief!

"Do you believe me now?"

Waylon's laughter, filled with triumph, echoed in John's ears. "You've lost the bet. Give me the ten thousand dollars."

"Lost the bet?"

Debra was confused. What was he talking about?

"Bastard. Just take it!"

With no further reason to doubt, John angrily pulled out ten thousand dollars from his pocket and handed it to Waylon. "We'll see about that in the future!"

With those biting words, John quickly climbed into his luxury car parked nearby and drove off.

"Earning money from these stupid rich guys is too easy," Waylon remarked, about to count his winnings when he noticed something odd about Debra.

He gazed into Debra's mesmerizing eyes, which sparkled with menace.

"Waylon!" Debra shot Waylon a fierce look. "Were you using me to gamble with him? What do you think I am?"

"You are my wife," Waylon replied nonchalantly. "I didn't bring much money back this time. So, if some idiot wants to hand over his cash, why should I refuse? Otherwise, I'd be the idiot, wouldn't I?"

"I'm not your wife yet!" Debra's heart ached with frustration. "And even if I were, it's wrong for you to use me in your bets with others!"

"That's a fair point." Waylon thought it over for a second, then said earnestly, "Alright, I promise you, once you're really my wife, I'll never involve you in any bets."

"What?"

Debra was shocked. So he'd refrain from using her in bets once they were married. Did that mean he would do that again before they were married?

"Bastard..."

Debra felt a surge of anger, but just as she was about to confront Waylon further, her phone rang from inside her purse.

Waylon had already started counting the money.

"We'll discuss this later!" Debra glared at Waylon once more before answering the phone, her tone frosty. "What's the matter?"

"What's the matter? Have I upset you lately?" A voice that was both sweet and frustrated reached her from the other end.

Debra, caught off guard by the voice, glanced at her phone and realized it was her best friend, Rylee Simpson, on the line. She chided herself for letting her anger toward Waylon cloud her awareness to the point of not checking the caller ID.

"I'm upset with a bastard," Debra muttered, her voice tight as she glared at Waylon, who was busy counting money next to her.

"What kind of bastard has got you so upset? Why don't you introduce them to me?" Rylee's laughter rang through, light and infectious.

"You'll meet him soon enough." Debra sighed, her annoyance lingering. "I just got home. Why did you call?"

"You're home already?" Rylee sounded shocked. "Hold off on coming back. The kitchen's water pipe burst. Go get someone from the property management to handle it!"

"Got it."

Debra ended the call and made her way to the property management office.

Waylon, having finished counting the money, noticed Debra's absence. He grumbled to himself, "Handling her is no simple task. She didn't even drop a hint before going home alone."

He walked into the villa's courtyard and used the key Debra had given him to unlock the front gate.

The moment the gate swung open, Waylon was taken aback by the sight that greeted him.