After my cheating husband, Julian Thorne, came crawling back to the family, I started posting daily online. [How thrilling is cheating, really?] [Is cheating addictive for men?] [When a man cheats, does he feel more guilty towards his wife or his mistress?] I tagged every post with his university. Precision-targeted to his students, colleagues, and even his mistress. Everyone advised me not to make it ugly, to be a magnanimous wife. Only Julian shielded me behind him, saying, "I made a mistake. It's only right for Claire to vent her emotions." Until I posted the 99th thread. Julian stormed in like a madman and smashed my laptop. "Claire Sullivan, are you done yet?! I came back! What more do you want?!" "How much torture will satisfy you?" I didn't answer. I just folded his freshly washed underwear and asked with a smile: "Do you have any more laundry?" 1 Julian froze, his chest heaving violently with rage. His interrogation felt like punching cotton. Seeing he wasn't speaking, I proceeded to help him take off his suit jacket. "It's all wrinkled. I'll go iron it for you." "Claire!" He stopped me, his voice suppressed with irritation. "What do you want! Can you stop acting crazy!" "Do you know how much your posts are affecting me? I'm human too; I get tired!" My hands paused, breathing quickening. "Are you afraid for yourself, or for Monica?" That name, like a bomb, blew us apart. "Why bring up Monica again?" "I transferred her to another group and cut off contact long ago. Don't you know all this?" "Will you only be happy when everyone becomes as crazy as you!" His voice pitched up sharply, but he froze when he saw my prominent pregnant belly. Like a deflated balloon, he softened his tone and hugged me, full of guilt: "I'm sorry, honey. I shouldn't have yelled at you." "I was impulsive. I'll buy you a new laptop tomorrow." I dodged his touch like I'd been electrocuted, holding onto the doorframe, retching uncontrollably. "Don't touch me. Dirty..." Julian's face darkened. His eyes were bloodshot as he gritted his teeth: "You think I'm dirty?" He grabbed my wrist without explanation and pinned me against the door. He tore open my collar and buried his face in my neck: "The doctor said the last trimester is fine. Claire, let's do it..." "Don't touch me! Disgusting!" I pushed him away with all my might, squatting on the floor and frantically scrubbing the skin he just touched, not stopping even when it turned red and painful. The room was filled with the sound of my retching. "Too dirty. I need a shower..." "Claire Sullivan! Do you hate me that much? What do I have to do for you to forgive me!" Julian roared hoarsely behind me. I rushed into the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the icy water wash over me. The door slammed with a thunderous noise. I looked up and met my reflection in the mirror. That haggard face, streaked with tears. Emotions suddenly overwhelmed me like a tidal wave. I hugged my belly, crying until I couldn't breathe. I never thought we would go from a happily married couple in our youth to looking at each other with disgust. We used to want to stick together every moment; now, a touch feels revolting. I couldn't forget those things. I tried. I wanted to forget, to be a generous wife. But the thought of him getting together with the student I sponsored while I was pregnant... Even doing those things in our marital bed on the day of my father's funeral. My stomach would cramp in stress, like a knife churning my insides. Why can he pretend nothing happened with such peace of mind? I can't do it! It took a long time before I stumbled out of the bathroom. The house had returned to a deathly silence. Julian sat on the sofa, eyes red: "Sorry, I was impulsive tonight." "It's all my fault. I won't do it again." "Doesn't matter." I interrupted him. "That's your business." Without waiting for his answer, I turned back to the bedroom. I lay on the bed, placing my hand gently on my lower abdomen, adjusting my breathing. Sorry baby, Mommy lost her temper and scared you again. My heavy eyelids slowly closed, my mind rehearsing what would happen in a hundred days over and over. Once the baby is born, I'll be free. 2 I was woken up by contractions. Feeling the trail of blood beneath me, I struggled out of bed, only to find the bedroom door locked tight. Fear rose in my heart. Cradling my belly, I frantically dialed Julian's number. "Julian, I'm bleeding... The bedroom door is locked, I can't get out. Come back quick!" Julian's voice was full of exhaustion, "Claire, the university is hosting an event today, I'm very busy. Stop causing trouble." "Julian!" Intense contractions made me cry out in pain: "It's true, I might be giving birth!" "Here we go again!" Julian's voice rose sharply. "Claire Sullivan, do you just want to ruin the award ceremony?" "No wonder you were so calm last night. You were planning to threaten me with the child!" "Julian, I'm not..." I wanted to explain, but continuous pain drained my strength. He wanted to say more, but Monica's voice broke in. "Professor Thorne, is Mrs. Thorne making a fuss again?" "Maybe you should go home, you don't need to accompany me..." "Ignore her, work is important." Julian's voice merged with the laughter of students. The call was hung up. I adjusted my breathing and called 911. But when I struggled to get up, I fell into a pool of blood, tears flowing uncontrollably. The doctors arrived quickly. When they broke down the door, they saw me lying in a pool of blood. I miscarried. The doctor said the baby was nearly eight months old. If not for the delay breaking down the door, it could have been saved. Julian knelt by my bedside, slapping himself twice: "Claire, it's my fault, I'm a bastard!" "I was afraid you'd be triggered seeing me on stage with Monica... Forgive me, wifey, we can have another child." The last time he knelt was at our wedding. Kissing my hand, teary-eyed, swearing to cherish me forever. Now everything has changed. His figure at this moment could no longer overlap with the innocent boy in my memory. I stared numbly at the ceiling, feeling a momentary sense of relief. The child is gone. I finally don't have to force myself to be with Julian anymore. A sudden phone ring interrupted his repentance. It was Monica calling. To show loyalty, he immediately put it on speaker and shouted: "Monica, stop pestering me!" The voice on the other end was mixed with sobbing: "Professor Thorne, I'm pregnant..." "I'll get an abortion, but as the father, I felt you should know." My palms clenched into fists, my biting lips trembling uncontrollably. My child just died, and she's pregnant. Julian hung up quickly, looking at me with anxiety and embarrassment: "Claire, I won't acknowledge this child." I laughed abruptly, tears falling. "Julian, let's get a divorce." "I don't want a divorce!" Julian stood up and hugged me tightly. "Claire, I love you. Don't say such things." I forcefully pulled his hands away and screamed: "Then get Monica to the hospital right now! I want to watch her get an abortion!" Julian closed his eyes, daring not look at me. "Monica has depression. If I make her get an abortion now, I'm afraid she'll do something drastic." "What about my child?" I threw the water cup at him. "I deserved to miscarry, is that it? That was your child too!" On the phone, Monica kept sobbing. "Professor Thorne, I won't make it difficult for you. I'll go kill myself right now..." Julian's face turned pale instantly. He clutched his phone and rushed out of the ward. Watching his decisive back. My mom hugged me with heartache, "My poor daughter, we won't take this abuse anymore." "Divorce immediately. Mom will go back and pack your bags." But when I received my mom's call again, all I heard was her wailing: 3 "Claire! Julian ordered people to demolish our old house!" "Your dad built that brick by brick! It was my only memento!" Like a knife, suddenly stabbing into my heart. I broke down emotionally. Enduring the cramps in my lower abdomen, I dialed Julian's number with trembling hands: "What right do you have to demolish my parents' house? They were so good to you!" Julian's voice was icy. "If I had been a second late just now, Monica would have taken sleeping pills and killed herself." "Your mom called the school to report Monica as a mistress, almost driving two lives to death!" "The old house is gone. Now she can move to the city to live." After nearly ten years of marriage, I understood Julian instantly. He wanted to cut off my mom's retreat. Forcing our whole family to live under his nose. I cried hysterically, "Julian, why don't you just die with her!" He dropped a "you're unreasonable" and hung up. I just miscarried, hadn't even finished my confinement. My mom had a heart attack from the shock and was hospitalized. Successive blows left me in a trance. I opened my phone and posted the 100th thread: [My child is gone, but my husband's mistress is pregnant. How can I make them pay?] The post exploded. In less than a few hours, it hit the trending list. The comment section rushed to Julian's account to attack: "Indeed a beast in human clothing. This couple of dogs should just die!" "What right does a rotten cucumber have to be a teacher? The school should fire him!" Seeing netizens on my side. I felt unprecedented relief, my heart much lighter. Until my account suddenly posted a statement. [I'm sorry everyone. I fabricated all 100 posts. I apologize for the trouble caused to my husband and Ms. Monica.] I wanted to log in to delete it, but found the password changed. I realized then that Julian had taken the broken laptop. Immediately after, Julian posted on Weibo: "My wife developed paranoia after getting pregnant, always fantasizing about an inappropriate relationship between me and my student." "For her sake, I transferred student Monica to another group, but she still couldn't control herself from posting rumors daily." "I will make her apologize to student Monica personally. Very sorry for wasting public resources." I didn't expect Julian's method of twisting the truth to be so dirty! Almost instantly, my inbox was filled with abuse. "Old woman, if you're sick, just die! You look like the type of trophy wife who fantasizes every woman wants her husband!" "Your child died because of your karma, you know that, you bitch..." Just as I was about to retort, Julian called. "Claire Sullivan, come to the school tomorrow to apologize to Monica." I trembled with anger. "Why should I!" His tone could not hide his anger, "Monica is innocent. What does your child's death have to do with her?" "If you don't want your mom's heart surgery canceled, come to the school immediately and apologize to Monica." My mom treated him like a son. But for Monica, he used my mom's life to threaten me! I clenched my palm fiercely until I bit my lip raw, hearing my trembling voice: "Okay, I promise..." After settling my mom, I took a taxi to the school. Monica was sobbing in Julian's arms. Seeing me, she couldn't help rushing up and slapping me. "Mrs. Thorne, why did you ruin me!" Surrounding students and teachers looked at me with disdain. In front, someone set up a phone to livestream. Julian's warning gaze fell on me. "Claire, apologize." I swallowed the blood in my mouth, about to speak. Someone kicked the back of my knee. My knee slammed into the ground, and I knelt before Monica. My clothes were pulled open. Revealing the hideous stretch marks on my belly. "Ugly people really do create trouble. Looking like this and still having a foul mouth to frame others." "So disgusting. I wouldn't want a woman like this even if she paid me." Julian glanced at me with some embarrassment. He felt ashamed. "Claire Sullivan, don't feel aggrieved. You posted a hundred threads, Monica only slapped you once. You got off easy." "I've transferred the money to your card. From now on, you owe each other nothing." I climbed up from the ground, looking at Julian with red eyes. What they owe me, they can never repay. Suppressing the surging hatred, I rushed to the hospital to see my mom, only to hear she was transferred to the ICU. The nurse told me: "The patient fell down the stairs." "She has intracranial hemorrhage and multiple fractures. She's being resuscitated." 4 Surveillance showed that the person who pushed my mom down the stairs was Monica. My blood ran cold instantly. I called Monica, "You dared to push my mom! I'll make sure you go to jail!" But what answered me was Julian's reproachful voice. "You can't blame Monica for this. She came for a prenatal checkup, and Mom went up and scolded her." "Monica was scared and pushed by accident." Teetering on the edge of collapse, I almost roared out. "My mom has a brain hemorrhage and is still being resuscitated! Julian Thorne, you're actually defending a murderer! Do you have a heart?!" The call was hung up immediately. When I called back, I was already blocked. I sat withered outside the ICU until the attending physician came out, looking at me with regret: "Miss Sullivan, my condolences." My world spun, darkness falling before my eyes, and I vomited a mouthful of blood. My mom died. I have no relatives left in the world. Hatred nearly burst my chest. I immediately took a taxi to University A. Since they say I'm crazy, I'll show them crazy! When I arrived at the school, Monica was giving a speech. I rushed up, grabbed her hair, and slapped her hard. "Murderer! I want you to pay with your life!" The audience was in an uproar. "Ah! Professor Thorne, save me!" Reacting, Julian rushed onto the stage and kicked me in the waist. "Claire Sullivan, what are you doing here? Are you insane?" Julian shielded Monica behind him, looking at me with hatred. "Mrs. Thorne, why did you ruin my speech assembly!" Monica sobbed uncontrollably. She suddenly knelt down and kept kowtowing to me. "I'll go die right now. Please let me go. I really can't take it anymore!" I didn't miss the flash of triumphant mockery in Monica's eyes. Red-eyed, she stumbled towards the rooftop. When Julian chased after her, Monica was already outside the railing, teetering. "Monica, don't be rash. With me here, anything can be solved." Monica cried beautifully, appearing broken and pitiful. "Professor Thorne, I have no choice. I'm being driven crazy by Mrs. Thorne. I'm just a child from a poor family, and now being bullied like this... I really don't want to live anymore." In the crowd, I sneered: "Then jump!" Slap! A ruthless slap landed on my face. "Claire Sullivan, shut up! Do you have to force her to death!" Julian, with a dark face, dragged me by my hair to Monica. "Kowtow and apologize to Monica immediately. Promise you won't go crazy again." I threw off his hand. "Dream on!" Julian tapped on his phone. The surveillance video of my mom at the funeral home appeared in front of me. He stared at me, his tone brooking no refusal: "I give you ten seconds." "If you don't kneel, I'll have someone drag your mom's corpse over to kneel for you." I stared at him in disbelief, trying to see a trace of hesitation in his eyes. But there was none. He just counted down calmly like a machine. "Five, four..." Seeing my mom's body really being dragged out and thrown on the ground. I couldn't hold it anymore and flopped to my knees in front of Monica. "I'm sorry, it's my fault, I won't dare again..." Triumph flashed in Monica's eyes. She glanced timidly at Julian, "Professor Thorne, I don't think Mrs. Thorne is sincere." With that, Julian immediately grabbed my head and smashed it on the ground. Warm blood slid down my face. He whispered in my ear: "Wifey, bear with it. Let's get Monica down first." After a full 99 kowtows, Monica came down from the roof and threw herself into Julian's arms. She looked at me provocatively, but the next second, a group of police rushed in and handcuffed them!
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