I possessed the Benevolent Spouse Prosperity System. All it took was a small gift from my husband to trigger a hundredfold surge of luck and fortune for him. For ten years, Grant Kensington ascended from a humble gig-economy driver to the undisputed magnate of Westport, all by being "good" to me. This year, for our anniversary, he promised a surprise luxury getaway. It wasn't until the plane landed that I discovered his secretary, Brooke, had gambled away everything in Monte Carlo. “Honey, you’re the only one who can save me this time, or Kensington Holdings is finished.” “The casino owner has been looking for a woman who looks exactly like you. If you stay here, all our debts will be wiped clean.” He had no idea that casino was owned by my father. And his act of pushing me forward as collateral was about to trigger the system's merciless counter-curse: The Husband-Waster's Penalty: All Prosperity Ceases. 1 The moment we landed in Monte Carlo, Grant rushed me straight to The Golden Citadel Casino. After the heavy soundproof door of the VIP suite clicked shut, I saw Brooke. She was slumped on the sofa, eyes red and swollen, hair a mess. Seeing us, she lunged into Grant’s arms. “Grant! You finally came! I thought you’d abandon me.” It was only then that I fully understood: The surprise luxury getaway was merely a ruse to rescue Brooke from the crippling debt she’d amassed. Grant had brought Brooke to Monte Carlo a few days earlier under the guise of a business trip. She'd insisted on trying the high-stakes tables, and the two had spent three days and three nights in a drunken, losing spiral. Looking at the distraught woman, I didn't immediately fly into a rage. I simply asked, my voice dangerously calm, “How much?” Grant’s voice shook, barely a whisper. “F-five… five hundred million.” My head exploded in a deafening silence. Five hundred million dollars. That was the entirety of Kensington Holdings’ liquid capital, plus loans secured by mortgaging most of our assets. While my Benevolent Spouse Prosperity System could bring him boundless luck, each activation came at a steep, private cost to me: weight gain and accelerated aging. In the past decade, Grant had gone from a delivery driver to a Westport titan thanks to the system, but I’d paid for every step of his success. I was over a hundred pounds heavier, and despite my best efforts to maintain my appearance, I looked a decade older than my actual age. Paying off $500 million in one go? Even if my body spontaneously combusted, it would be impossible. I took a deep breath and stared at him. “Why am I here? Are you planning to have me gamble it back to save you?” He waved a hand dismissively. “No, no, that’s impossible. I want to—” Brooke cut him off. “Grant, we don’t have time. If you can’t say it, I will.” She walked up to me, shoving a phone screen almost into my face. “The casino owner, Victor Kensington, has been searching for this woman for thirty years. The bounty is still active—whoever provides a lead, or the woman herself, has their debt erased.” Seeing the photograph of the woman in a vintage gown, I instantly recognized her: my mother, who had passed away years ago. My mother had left my father after a terrible argument, taking me with her. But one morning, I couldn’t wake her up. The social worker said she’d taken sleeping pills. I’d spent three decades believing my father’s absence was due to his hatred for us. But now, Brooke claimed he'd been looking for us for thirty years? My silence spurred Grant on. He grabbed my arm, his voice desperate. “Jo, I know this isn't fair to you, but it’s the only way. All you have to do is agree that you’re her, and play along.” “It’ll only be a few months. Once the heat is off and the debt is cleared, I swear I’ll find a way to get you back!” I looked at him, completely stunned. “Grant, you brought me to Monte Carlo to hand me over to another man? To bail out the massive hole you and your mistress dug?” When Grant and I first married, he was a broke kid. He'd spend $199 of the $200 he earned delivering food on me. One day, he spent his entire month’s paycheck on a gold necklace. That’s when the system’s voice chimed in my head. [Benevolent Spouse Prosperity System Activated] [Detected partner gift: Necklace, valued at $3,500] [Return: Partner Grant Kensington receives a hundredfold surge of luck, lasting 30 days] I thought it was a hallucination. The next day, Grant won $50,000 on a scratch-off ticket. The day after, while on a delivery, he saved an elderly man who was having a heart attack—who turned out to be the patriarch of a major investment firm. A month later, Grant quit his job, used the reward money and the connections from the grateful family, and opened his first logistics company. For ten years, no matter how small the gift, good fortune would cascade upon him. 2 A lipstick secured a multi-million dollar contract. A scarf helped him narrowly avoid a hostile takeover. A home-cooked anniversary dinner led to insider information on a government-backed project. The more expensive the gift, the greater his reward. Grant became a commercial legend, rising from a delivery driver to the new elite of Westport. We upgraded from an eight-hundred-square-foot apartment to an eight-thousand-square-foot penthouse overlooking the harbor. Each system activation meant more weight and more years added to my apparent age. But Grant had never shown a hint of disgust. “Jo, you’re my lucky charm. My woman should be soft and well-fed.” Seeing him transform from a self-conscious young man into a confident titan, I felt it was all worth it. Until three years ago, when he hired Brooke. Within two weeks, Grant was coming home later and later. He missed holidays and anniversaries and, most critically, stopped giving me gifts. It wasn't until this year’s anniversary that he came home early, promising this trip to make up for his neglect. I was genuinely touched by his seemingly sincere eyes. But the system in my mind remained silent. No chime, no hundredfold prosperity countdown. Still, I said yes. Ten years of marriage—I clung to a thread of hope. Maybe I was overthinking, maybe he was just busy, or maybe the system was gone. Yet, I underestimated the depths of his cowardice. Grant began to argue desperately, his words turning cruel. “Jo, don’t make it sound so awful! This is a win-win!” “Besides, you’re... well, you’re exactly the kind of mature look the photo would have thirty years later, anyway—” Mature look? I laughed, though tears spilled from my eyes. “Grant, for ten years, every time you gave me a gift, I got a little fatter, a little older, and your career soared. Did you ever wonder why?” “From a delivery driver to the new Westport elite, do you honestly believe all of it was due to your superior talent and luck?” His face paled slightly. Brooke sneered. “Jo, are you losing it? What crazy talk is that? Grant’s success is entirely his own!” I ignored her, staring intensely at Grant. “The wife is the family’s true fortune. The Benevolent Spouse brings prosperity.” I leaned in. “But now you’re trying to sell me. You’re the Husband-Waster. Do you know what the penalty is?” Grant didn't know. He’d never known the system was real. He thought his success was all his own merit. But now, a sudden panic flashed in his eyes. “Y-you’re talking nonsense. What are you going on about?” I didn't want to waste another second. I turned to leave. The moment my hand touched the doorknob, a sharp sting hit the back of my neck. A cold liquid rushed through a needle and into my skin. I stumbled, turning to see Grant holding a syringe, his eyes a mix of anguish and determination. “Jo, I’m sorry.” “You…” My tongue went numb; my limbs quickly lost all strength. Grant caught my falling body and settled me onto the sofa. Brooke pulled a second vial from her purse. “Grant, Victor has seen every type of woman. You said she was like a dead fish in bed. What if he’s not satisfied?” She shook the vial of pink liquid. “This is something I sourced—a little boost. It’ll turn even a stone-cold woman into an easy conquest. Just to be safe, we should use it.” I widened my eyes in horror, shaking my head violently. Grant was silent for a few seconds. “Give it to her.” I managed to force the words out. “Grant, ten years of marriage… is this how you treat me?” He wouldn't meet my eyes. “Jo, don’t blame me! I have no choice!” “If I don’t do this, Kensington Holdings will declare bankruptcy tomorrow. I’ll be buried in debt, I’ll fall from the clouds into the gutter, with nothing!” “You’re my wife. We went through the early days together. You should help me!” My heart felt like it was submerged in freezing seawater, sinking slowly, hardening into ice. I scanned their faces, a cold, bitter smile touching my lips as I asked my final question. “You’re trying to trick a man who practically runs Monte Carlo. Aren’t you afraid of being exposed? Or, are you afraid that I am the woman he’s looking for?” Grant’s expression froze. Brooke paused, then covered her mouth and chuckled. “Jo, you’re really getting into character! Everyone knows Victor has been looking for this woman for thirty years. She’d be in her fifties now. You might look a little worn, but you’re only in your thirties. Are you actually dreaming?” She stepped closer, whispering in my ear. “You don't know the full story, do you? Victor’s rule is: anyone who provides a lead or brings in a woman who fits the description has their debt instantly cleared, regardless of the outcome.” “Whether the woman is real or not…” 3 She drew out the words, her eyes shining with wicked calculation. “That’s your problem to deal with. It has nothing to do with us. Our debt is cleared the second we hand you over.” “I’ve heard the women who were caught lying didn’t end up well. Broken bones were the least of it; some were dumped into the ocean. So, Jo, let’s hope your performance is convincing.” I felt a chill run through my body; my blood seemed to turn to ice. So that was their plan. They didn't care if I was real or fake, alive or dead. They just needed a credible pawn to clear their slate. I looked at Grant, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “So… that’s what you think? As long as the debt is cleared, you’re safe back in Westport? And if I’m exposed here, tortured, or even murdered, it won't matter to you?” Grant avoided my gaze. “Jo, don’t think the worst. Victor is a gentleman. Even if... even if he finds out, he’ll just throw you out. He won’t hurt you.” “And once I’m back in Westport, Monte Carlo’s reach won’t extend that far. No one can touch me, and I’ll figure out a way to get you out.” Ten years. A whole decade. I hadn't nurtured a loving partner or a devoted husband. I had nurtured a selfish man who would sacrifice me without a second thought for his own survival. I finally understood: Some people's self-centeredness and weakness are innate. Even if you give them the world, they’ll never use it to protect you. I started laughing, a cold, choked sound at my own stupidity. Brooke seized the chance, pinching my jaw and forcing the sweet, cloying liquid down my throat. I choked violently, tears and mucus blurring my vision, unable to speak. Just then, the suite door swung open. Leading the group was a man with a prominent scar on his face. “Grant, Victor sent me to take a look.” He walked to the sofa, leaned over, examined me closely, and compared me to the photo on his phone. His brow furrowed instantly, and his eyes turned hostile. “Grant, you sure this is the woman Victor is looking for? The photo shows a young, beautiful woman with a gentle air. This one is old and fat. You think Victor runs a junk-lot?” Sweat broke out on Grant's forehead. He quickly stepped forward, forcing a smile. “Bart, it’s been thirty years. Don’t women age and gain weight? It’s completely normal!” “Look closer, Bart. The eyebrows, the nose, the curve of the mouth... aren’t they identical to the picture? She’s just a little older and heavier, but the foundation is all there!” The man, Bart, stared at my face for a long moment, his frown easing slightly. “I guess… thirty years is a long time. Even with the best maintenance, time catches up to a woman.” Then his nose twitched. His expression hardened as he looked at Grant. “You drugged her?” Grant froze. Brooke quickly interjected with a fawning smile. “Bart, it’s just a little something to get the party started.” “Victor is still a vigorous man, but for a reunion after so long, a little mood setting helps. We just wanted to ensure Victor was… satisfied.” Bart stared at Grant, then at my agonizing struggle, and a leering, knowing look passed between them. “Tch. Your woman is pretty well-versed, isn’t she?” He turned, pulled out a walkie-talkie, and spoke quietly for a moment. Returning, he nodded to Grant. “We’re keeping the woman. I’ve notified Victor. He’ll be here once he finishes his current business.” He snatched the betting slip from Brooke’s hand and shredded it. “Grant, your debt is cleared.” He pointed at the door. “Now, get lost.” Grant looked like a man given a reprieve from death. He profusely thanked Bart. “Thank you, Bart! Thank you! We’re going now! Right now!” He practically dragged Brooke out the door without a backward glance. The drug’s effects were intensifying. I tried to use my remaining rationality to speak. “W-wait…” Before I could finish, a thug standing nearby delivered a vicious kick to my side. “Settle down, you! You dare stop Bart when he’s letting someone go? Do you have a death wish?” I stifled a grunt and coughed up a mouthful of blood. 4 Bart slapped the thug across the face. “Are you out of your damn mind?! I told you to watch her, not kill her!” “What if she is the woman Victor’s been looking for? Do you have enough lives to pay for that, huh?! You want a taste of Victor’s methods?!” The thug clutched his cheek, startled and terrified, but a spark of defiance remained. He muttered. “B-Bart… I… I just saw she wasn’t cooperating…” “Besides, so many women have come in over the years—young, beautiful, in great shape… they all looked more like the photo than her, and none of them were real.” He eyed me with disgust. “This one is old and fat. How could she be the one Victor’s been searching for? I bet someone was desperate and brought the cheapest option they could find to fool us…” “Shut up!” Bart snapped at him, but a flicker of doubt crossed his own eyes. He shot a sharp look at Grant’s retreating back, then crouched in front of me. “Woman, I’m asking you one last time. Are you Victor’s woman? Think carefully before you answer.” He paused, his voice low and warning. “Lots of women have tried to pose as her over the years. Their fates weren’t pretty. Broken limbs were the least of it. Some were thrown to the sharks. Tell me the truth now, and I might put in a word for you to lessen your pain. But if Victor finds out you lied, you’ll wish for death.” I looked at Grant and Brooke, whose faces were pale and whose eyes were urgently signaling me to lie. After a long silence, I nodded. “I am.” Relief washed over Grant and Brooke’s faces. They started to leave, but I called out to them again. “Grant, before you go, can you give me a gift?” He stopped, confusion clouding his features. Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a single, cheap, low-value poker chip from a slot machine. “Here. A souvenir.” The instant the token landed in my palm, the system’s silent alarm, dormant for three years, finally blared to life. But it wasn't the familiar [Benevolent Spouse Prosperity] notification. It was: [Detected partner gift under malicious circumstance, intended to use Host as collateral. Husband-Waster behavior confirmed] [The Husband-Waster will have all previously acquired prosperity reclaimed, with the Hundredfold Wealth Drain commencing in one hour, lasting until the end of life.]
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