My parents bought me a beachfront villa, but my husband gave it to his secretary. Scarlett Bridgeforth posted a nine-grid photo of a pool party on social media, complete with a location tag: [Thank you to Mr. Hayes for the luxurious villa! I’ll definitely work even harder!] The photos sent by the housekeeper showed the garden sculptures smashed, and all the flowers I had planted dug up. I threw the photos directly at Alistair Hayes. [Mr. Hayes, what is the meaning of this? Why are other people in my villa?] Alistair immediately replied with a voice message, the sound of ocean waves in the background. [Don’t be so petty. We have plenty of places to stay.] [Within three hours, I want her out of there, and the villa restored to its original state.] Alistair read my message but didn’t reply. Five minutes later, I auctioned off the villa for one dollar. His antique collection was smashed to smithereens. If someone doesn’t listen, I don’t mind teaching them a lesson. 1 No sooner had I put down my phone than it rang. It was Alistair, who had just read my message without replying. “Natalie Wilson! What have you done?! Why was Scarlett kicked out by security?!” Alistair’s voice was clearly angry. My tone was calm. “That villa is mine. I just sold it.” “The new owner’s only request was to clear out all people and things within an hour.” Silence fell for a few seconds on the other end of the line. “Natalie, have you misunderstood something?” “There’s nothing going on between me and Scarlett. She’s just my secretary.” Alistair’s tone softened slightly. “Don’t you think your approach is too aggressive? And a bit too sensitive.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Alistair, you’re the one who doesn’t know how to avoid suspicion, who doesn’t know how to keep himself clean. How dare you turn around and accuse me?” Alistair didn’t answer the question, skillfully changing the subject. “Natalie, you have so many other villas; it’s a waste to leave them empty. I was just making reasonable use of resources.” “Scarlett and I really haven’t done anything inappropriate.” He paused, his voice growing somewhat impatient. “Don’t be so petty.” I curved my lips, but my eyes turned cold. “Since Mr. Hayes is so generous, I presume you won’t mind your precious darlings turning into a pile of junk, will you?” With that, I opened my photo album and sent him a few pictures. In the photos, Alistair’s cherished antique collection, accumulated over many years, was smashed to smithereens, fragments scattered across the floor. Silence for a few seconds on the other end of the line. “Natalie. Wilson.” He enunciated my full name, word by word. I knew this was a sign of his extreme anger. But I didn’t care. “Alistair, you must have seen the photos, right?” “That’s the price for trying to challenge my boundaries.” “If you dare to cross the line again, what you’ll lose will be far more than just these worthless trinkets.” With that, I hung up the phone. In these years of marriage, we rarely had fierce arguments. But this didn’t mean I would back down out of fear of conflict. Once the bottom line in a marriage starts to recede, it only leads to the other party taking more and more liberties. What’s more, the beginning of this marriage was not based on pure love. The Hayes family was eager to enter the core of New York City’s elite, needing the assistance of my family, the Wilsons, and thus this commercial marriage was arranged. When we first met, Alistair certainly showed his thoughtfulness and gentleness. And his face was quite deceptive; he handled matters meticulously and appropriately. I thought at the time that perhaps living with such a person wouldn’t be too bad, so I didn’t object to my family’s arrangements. Fortunately, in the course of our marriage, we gradually developed feelings for each other. He and I also had a rather sweet period, once regarded by outsiders as a perfect match. However, no matter the stage, I always clearly understood the importance of putting myself first. Later, intense passion faded, and life settled into a steady rhythm. I could understand and accept that all feelings eventually move towards a quieter state, or even dissipate. But I would absolutely not allow the cause of that dissipation to be the intervention of a third party. From childhood, the thing I most detested was others touching my belongings. If an item became dirty, I would discard it without hesitation. If a person became soiled, the treatment would be the same. 2 Alistair hadn’t contacted me again. He was always like this; once his mistakes were exposed, he would choose silence to escape. That is, until this afternoon, when a message from Mia popped up on my phone. “Natalie, why aren’t you answering me?! I saw you in the venue just now and called your name for ages, but you didn’t respond.” I frowned slightly, quickly replying, “I didn’t go out today. You must have seen wrong.” “It really wasn’t you? I saw that sapphire blue mermaid gown you had custom-made, along with your husband, Mr. Hayes.” “Natalie, wait, I got a front shot.” A photo quickly appeared on my phone. Alistair in a perfectly tailored black suit. And Scarlett beside him, wearing my high-fashion gown, smiling and chatting with someone. I stared at the photo for a full ten seconds. Before I could even react, another message popped up on my phone. This time it was Alistair’s chief assistant, with a screenshot attached. It was Scarlett’s social media post. [First time attending the Skyline Auction. Thank you, Mr. Hayes, for showing me the world. Finally, I know what true high society is [heart emoji.jpg].] The accompanying picture showed her sitting in a front-row seat at the auction, Alistair beside her, a slight smile playing on his lips, clearly tacitly approving of her selfie and caption. I suddenly remembered something: Alistair hated being photographed. Even during our sweetest days, if I wanted to take a couple’s photo, he would frown and refuse. It seemed my morning’s punishment had been too light. Not only did he dare to bring another woman to the most exclusive auction in high society, but he even let her wear my clothes and tacitly allowed her to post a photo of them together on social media to show off. I forwarded the photo directly to Alistair. “Explain this. Why is my dress on her?” The message showed as read, but there was no reply. A few minutes later, I took a picture and sent it over. Mia’s message immediately popped up. “Natalie! What did you send Mr. Hayes?! He suddenly stood up and rushed out, and Scarlett couldn’t even hold him back.” I didn't reply to my friend because Alistair's call was already coming in. In the photo I sent, I was sitting in front of the fireplace, holding a meticulously crafted small wooden box. The surface of the box was spotless, clearly cleaned and maintained regularly. “Natalie, put that down.” Alistair’s voice trembled slightly, carrying clear panic and anger. “What are you trying to do?” Inside the wooden box were some carefully preserved items. A few yellowed photographs, a bracelet, and an exquisite jade pendant. The girl in the photos had a bright smile. This was Alistair’s “white moonlight,” his first love who had died of illness. His family had mentioned it unintentionally. I suddenly understood the reason for all of Alistair’s recent abnormal behavior: Scarlett bore a striking seven or eight-tenths resemblance to his “white moonlight.” “Natalie, don’t touch those things!” Alistair’s voice was almost a plea. “Alistair, you know I always hate it when people touch my things.” “Just as you feel right now.” “Now, immediately make Scarlett take off that dress. There’s a changing room at the auction house. Make her change.” Silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds. “Natalie, don’t you only wear those dresses once? What’s wrong with letting her wear clothes you don’t want anymore?” I chuckled, my tone growing colder. “Alistair, even if I don’t want my things, I won’t allow others to touch them.” “You now have two choices.” “Either make Scarlett take off that dress before the auction starts, or…” I rattled the box in my hand, the items inside making faint colliding sounds. “Suffer the consequences.” With that, I hung up the phone directly. 3 In the time that followed, Mia's messages kept popping up. “Natalie! What did you say to him?!” “Your Mr. Hayes rushed in, his face pale, and dragged Scarlett out without a word.” “Wait, they’re back!” “My God, what’s going on? Scarlett is wearing… a cleaner’s uniform?!” I curved my lips. This result was even better than I had anticipated. “Natalie, Scarlett’s expression, my goodness, it’s priceless!” “Everyone is looking at them both, whispering. I’m starting to get second-hand embarrassment.” “Mia, take some pictures for me.” Mia quickly sent a few photos. In the pictures, Alistair sat impassively. And Scarlett, in a clearly ill-fitting gray uniform, her makeup smudged, her eyes red and swollen. “This auction has an extremely high entry bar; you’re not allowed to leave halfway through. That girl will have to sit through the entire event in a cleaning uniform.” Mia’s tone was filled with schadenfreude. “Your Mr. Hayes’s face is as black as a pot.” “Natalie, your move was brilliant.” “Scarlett, too. Of all people to provoke, she dared to provoke you. In the end, she probably won’t even know how she died.” After the auction ended, Mia sent another message. “When they left, your husband’s face was already liver-colored, and Scarlett was sobbing uncontrollably.” Mia sent a new photo. That sapphire blue mermaid gown was now discarded in a trash can. “Natalie, photo’s taken.” I immediately posted the photo on social media, simply adding a caption: [Trash belongs in the trash can.] In less than five minutes, the post had over a hundred likes. Smart people could tell at a glance that the dress in the trash can was the very one Scarlett had flaunted in her social media post. My meaning was self-evident. “Natalie, Mr. Hayes lost so much face today. He won’t cause you trouble when he gets home, will he?” I calmly replied, “Don’t worry. Even if he had more guts, he wouldn’t dare.” That evening, Alistair returned, his presence heavy with anger, and walked directly up to me. “Natalie Wilson, where are my things?” He spoke, his voice hoarse. I simply stared at him, saying nothing. Alistair tried desperately to suppress his emotions. “Natalie, I admit my behavior today was inappropriate.” “It was my fault for not considering your feelings.” “But I already did as you asked, losing face in front of everyone.” “Can you please stop making a fuss and give me back my things?” I raised an eyebrow. “Alistair, you lost face because of your own inappropriate behavior, not because of me.” “Aren’t you going to explain what happened today?” Alistair avoided my gaze. “We have a purely subordinate relationship. I was just rewarding Scarlett for doing good work.” I sneered, pressing closer. “Alistair, there are so many ways to give a reward. Why did you choose the worst one?” “A luxury villa, an auction, an exorbitant gown—you know very well what these symbolize for an ordinary girl.” “You wouldn’t even take a couple’s photo when I asked, but you were willing to appear with her.” “Every one of your indulgences gave her positive reinforcement. That’s why she became more arrogant, even daring to provoke me.” “And, does her meager work ability truly deserve your rewards?” Alistair remained silent. “Your favoritism towards her is just because she closely resembles your ‘white moonlight,’ isn’t it?” I directly pierced through his thoughts. “But a stand-in is always a stand-in. She can never become that person.” “Alistair, you need to distinguish.” His breathing grew heavy; he remained silent. I pulled the small wooden box from behind me and handed it to him, my voice softening. “Alistair, I understand your obsession with her, and I never intended to destroy the beauty between you two.” “But I hope you won’t destroy the beauty between us either.” “Today’s incident is the first, and it must be the last.” Alistair took the small wooden box and set it aside, then hugged me tightly. “Natalie, I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse. “I truly know I was wrong.” “Scarlett and I really have no other relationship. I will definitely stay far away from her from now on.” “This kind of thing will absolutely never happen again. Please don’t be angry anymore, okay?” His voice was pleading, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I sighed softly, finally choosing to compromise. Then I looked up and bit hard on his lip. Not until blood seeped from the corner of his mouth did I release him, satisfied. “This is the consequence of offending me. Remember, there must never be a next time.” “Okay.” Alistair showed no impatience, his eyes filled with fervent heat. He scooped me up in his arms and carried me into the room.
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