On my birthday, my wife trended on social media with another man. Tim had posted a photo wearing the limited-edition luxury watch I was supposed to unwrap that night. “My favorite little girl sure knows how to show respect,” his caption read. “Gave Papa her husband’s birthday present to wear first. Come kneel and thank me, and I might just grant you a kiss.” The image breaking the internet was a close-up of the two of them, mouths pressed together in an intimate, breathless kiss. Moments later, Adriana called me. “Tim was just messing around,” she said, her voice smooth, devoid of any real apology. “Don’t make a scene over this. I’ll make it up to you.” A notification chimed on my phone a second later: a wire transfer for one million dollars. In our social circle, the high-society trust-fund heirs were having a field day. They mocked me in private group chats, whispering that I couldn’t even hold my ground against my wife’s “guy best friend.” I accepted the money. My heart rate didn’t even spike. I didn’t care. Not anymore. Because three months ago, the System had given me a singular rule: every single cent I made in this world could be transferred back to my real life. I had given Adriana five years of my life. I wasn’t about to walk away empty-handed. Thirty days left. Just thirty more days, and I’d return home as a very, very wealthy man. … Tim posted another update. In the photo, Adriana was asleep on his sofa, her head resting on his shoulder. He angled his face close to hers, holding a single finger to his lips in a “shh” gesture. “Insisted on keeping up with me all night,” he wrote. “My good girl completely wore herself out.” The comments under the post were predictable. “Haha, you really broke her, didn’t you?” “Damn, Tim, the husband’s position is looking real fragile right now!” My phone buzzed relentlessly with direct messages. The guys-only group chat was practically on fire. “Larry, if you don’t put a leash on your wife, get the hell out of this chat. If you’re not embarrassed, we are.” “Letting her ‘platonic bestie’ walk all over you like this? How do you even look in the mirror?” I scrolled through the messages without replying. Sitting alone at the grand dining table, I continued eating my birthday dinner. When I swallowed the last bite of cake, I opened Tim’s post and gave it a polite like. I typed out a comment: “Thanks for looking out for her. She snores when she sleeps like that—make sure to put a blanket over her so she doesn’t catch a chill.” After posting, I opened my banking app to check the transaction history. One million dollars deposited tonight. Nice. At one in the morning, just as I was drifting off to sleep, Adriana called. “Larry!” Her voice was raspy, heavy with sleep. “What the hell is happening online? What did you do?” “I didn’t do anything,” I said mildly. “How is that possible? My parents just called me in a panic!” She was furious now. “I spent a little time playing games with my best friend—is that really worth turning into a national scandal? Do you care about my family’s reputation at all?” So, she cared about her reputation now. My voice remained entirely flat. “Adriana, the people who made a spectacle online were you and Tim. Not me.” “Stop acting so innocent!” She let out a sharp, disdainful sneer. “Today was your birthday. I wasn’t home, and you didn’t call me even once to nag me to come back. That isn’t like you!” “Not today,” I said, looking at the glowing digits on my phone. “It’s past midnight. Yesterday was my birthday.” Adriana went quiet for a beat. “So what?” she snapped, though her tone faltered slightly. “You never used to be like this. You used to blow up my phone until I came home……” I let out a soft laugh. I truly couldn’t follow her logic anymore. “You were spending quality time with your best friend,” I said softly. “If I kept calling to drag you home, wouldn’t I be disrespecting your bond?” Silence stretched across the line. She was right about one thing: I didn’t used to be like this. I used to scream. I used to break things. I used to cry until my throat burned. I used to drive out to Tim’s loft, corner him, and throw punches. But even knowing how much it destroyed me, Adriana refused to cut ties with him. Instead, she blamed me for being unreasonable, for being insecure. “He’s my brother!” she used to yell at me. “When you lay a finger on him, you’re disrespecting me!” Once, she abandoned me to go skateboarding with Tim. We had hired a surrogate who was five months pregnant with our child. I had just picked up the ultrasound reports with the surrogate when Tim came tearing down the concrete path on his board and slammed straight into her. The collision was brutal. We lost the baby that night. When Adriana arrived at the hospital, her expression was indifferent. “He didn’t mean it,” she had said coldly. “Who knew your surrogate was made of glass?” Then, she transferred a million dollars into my account. “Let it go,” she told me. “We can always hire another surrogate later.” She used a million dollars to buy out the life of our unborn child. That night, lying on the hospital cot, I stared at the confirmation page on my phone for hours. And then, I started laughing. I laughed until my chest ached, until tears burned my eyes. It was a bitter, hollow sound. That was the night I remembered the System’s original prompt. [Task: Win Adriana’s heart and stay married to her for five years. Upon completion, you may return to the real world.] [Special Bonus: Any wealth accumulated in this world can be transferred to your real-world bank account.] I had long forgotten about the mission because I had genuinely fallen in love with Adriana. I had wanted to build a real life here with her. But I didn’t want to love her anymore. From that day forward, I started counting down the days. When the five-year mark arrived, I would leave. And I would take every single cent I could get my hands on. The next morning, Adriana came home. She walked into the dining room carrying a bakery box, wearing an expectant smile that practically begged for gratitude. “I stood in line at seven this morning to get your favorite chestnut sponge cake,” she said, setting it in front of me. “Eat up.” I glanced at the cake. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Her smile froze. “I’m severely allergic to chestnuts.” Annoyance flashed in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a sudden, jarring panic. I gave her a polite, unbothered smile. “Don’t you remember? Last year, Tim blended chestnuts into a powder and told me it was a protein smoothie. I drank it and ended up in the ICU.” My voice stayed conversational. “Back then, you told me Tim was just careless and didn’t mean anything by it.” Her mouth opened slightly. A rare pang of guilt washed over her face. “I…… I forgot.” “It’s fine,” I waved my hand dismissively and took my seat at the table. “You’re a busy woman. You can’t be expected to remember every little detail.” Adriana watched me, her gaze analytical, searching my face for a crack in the armor. “Larry…… are you really not angry?” I chuckled, taking a slow sip of my warm milk. “What is there to be angry about? If I had to guess, Tim was the one who suggested you pick up chestnut cake in the first place, wasn’t he?” She parted her lips to explain, but I cut her off gently. “He loves chestnut cake,” I said softly. “It makes complete sense that you’d buy one for him and grab an extra while you were at it. The fact that you thought of bringing one home to me at all is already very sweet.” Adriana stared at me, her expression a messy knot of confusion and guilt. I didn’t look at her again. I quietly ate the breakfast our butler, Frank, had already prepared for me. The grand gesture of bringing me breakfast was a performative act she was late to—Frank had already taken care of it. We ate the rest of the meal in silence. “There’s a company gala tomorrow night,” she said finally, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “I want you to come with me.” It was her classic routine. Every time she stepped out of line, she insisted on dragging me to public events to prove to the world that our marriage was as rock-solid as ever. I pondered it for a second. “Sure. But I’ll need a new suit and a pair of cuff links.” She visibly breathed a sigh of relief. My lack of resistance meant, in her mind, that the storm had passed. She immediately pulled out her phone and wired me five hundred thousand dollars. “Let me know if you need more.” It was more than enough. My closet was lined with custom suits I had bought for past galas. But if she was offering cash, I wasn’t going to turn it down. It had taken me four years to realize that cash was the only thing in this house that wouldn’t betray me. The next night, I arrived at the gala wearing a silver-grey bespoke suit, accessorized with diamond cuff links Adriana had gifted me years ago. Tim was already there. He was wearing a champagne-colored silk suit, cut low at the neck to show off his chest. When he spotted me, he smirked loudly enough for half the room to hear. “Look who it is! My girl actually brought her husband out tonight!” He stepped up, scanning me from head to toe. “Look at you, all dapper. This suit must’ve set you back a few hundred grand, huh?” “It was alright,” I replied coolly. “Thirty-eight thousand.” Tim’s grin faltered for a fraction of a second. My suit was significantly more expensive than his. A waiter carrying a tray of champagne walked past us. Tim executed a sudden, clumsy turn, deliberately brushing against the tray and sending a full flute of champagne splashing across his own chest. “Oh no!” he gasped dramatically. The amber liquid soaked down his front, turning the light silk a dark, ugly yellow. “I’m supposed to give a speech on stage in twenty minutes……” he whined, looking helpless. Adriana frowned, her eyes immediately darting to me. “Larry…… could you swap suits with him?” I remained silent. Tim playfully smacked Adriana on the head. “Hey, little girl, I’m wearing yours! Just take yours off and give it to me, hurry up.” Adriana blushed slightly. “Stop messing around. I have to go on stage later, too.” Then, her eyes locked onto me again. This time, it wasn’t a request. It was an order. I offered a perfectly practiced, polite smile. “Take mine.” Tim’s eyes gleamed with instant triumph. “Larry, you’re a real pal!” We walked into the VIP restroom to swap clothes. The moment the heavy door clicked shut behind us, the easy smile vanished from Tim’s face. “How do you tolerate this?” he asked, staring at me with pure contempt. I unbuttoned my jacket, my voice completely tranquil. “What do you mean? You’re her best friend. Helping you out is the right thing to do, isn’t it?” He let out a cold snort, taking the silver-grey jacket from my hands and slipping into it with agonizing slowness. It fit him like a glove. He turned in front of the mirror, admiring himself. “Honestly, I thought this suit looked tacky when I first saw it.” He glanced at my reflection through the glass. “Every piece of clothing Adriana gives you is something I rejected first.” I smiled softly, entirely unbothered. “Then you definitely made a mistake passing on this one.” I reached out to pick up his stained champagne suit from the counter. Tim casually let his hand slip, letting the dirty jacket tumble straight into the toilet bowl. “Oops. My hand slipped,” he said, his eyes glittering with smug malice. My expression faltered just enough to satisfy him. I was standing there in my undershirt and trousers. Tim grabbed the cuffs of his trousers, spun around on his designer leather shoes, and walked out, the heavy wooden door closing with a firm click. As soon as he was gone, I reached into my pocket and stopped the audio recording on my phone. Then, I dialed Adriana’s number. She picked up on the second ring. “Larry—” “Hey, stop talking on the phone, we’re up next—” Tim’s voice cut in through her speaker. The line went dead. When I tried calling back, her phone was switched off. I took a deep breath, dialed the hotel front desk, and spoke clearly into the receiver. “Hi, please send a size medium staff uniform to the main floor VIP restroom.” Ten minutes later, dressed in a plain black hotel polo and cargo pants, I slipped out of the venue through the service exit. By the time I reached home, my phone rang again. Adriana’s voice erupted with rage the moment I answered. “Where the hell did you go without telling me? Tim said you threw his thirty-thousand-dollar suit into the toilet! You need to pay him back right now!” I didn’t answer. I simply tapped on the audio file I had recorded in the restroom and sent it directly to her chat. Two minutes passed in absolute silence. Then, a voice note arrived from Adriana. “Tim didn’t mean it…… don’t take it to heart.” “He’s wearing your suit home tonight. I’ll reimburse you for it.” My phone buzzed with a bank notification. “Four hundred thousand dollars deposited.” I accepted the transfer, locked my phone, turned over, and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. Twenty-five days left. The following morning, I began quietly liquidating my assets. Over the years, Adriana had transferred two luxury villas, ten prime commercial storefronts, and two plots of land into my name. I didn’t make a grand spectacle of it. Instead, I hired a discreet, high-end real estate broker to list everything quietly. My only condition was speed: sell at slightly below market value, but close as fast as humanly possible. The broker looked at me in surprise. “Mr. Vance—sorry, Mr. Larry—are you in urgent need of cash?” I nodded serenely. “Yes. I’m preparing to make a quick exit.” The broker chuckled, assuming I was pulling his leg. When I returned home that evening, Adriana and Tim were already sitting at the dining table. Frank had just finished serving a spread of elaborate dishes. “Here, try this, it’s amazing,” Tim said, using his own chopsticks to drop a piece of braised pork into Adriana’s bowl. Then, with casual familiarity, he reached into her bowl with the same chopsticks, picked out the green peppers she hated, and popped them into his own mouth. It was an exchange so practiced it looked like second nature. When Tim noticed me entering, he looked up with a easy grin. “Larry’s back! Come on, sit down and eat!” I sat across from them. Tim continued heaping food onto Adriana’s plate. I glanced at the serving utensils sitting untouched in the center of the table. Tim noticed my gaze and laughed it off. “Oh, come on, Larry. Adriana and I go way back. We don’t need to be so formal with serving spoons.” I said nothing, quietly eating the food in my own bowl. Adriana set her chopsticks down and cleared her throat softly. “Larry, I wanted to talk to you about something.” She paused, taking a breath. “Tim’s baby is going to be born soon. He wants to raise the child as a single father.” My hand holding the fork stilled for a fraction of a second. Tim was staring down at an ultrasound photo on his phone, a smug, triumphant smirk playing on his lips. “But his parents are extremely traditional,” Adriana continued, her fingers nervously twisting together. “They refuse to accept him being a single dad and are threatening to force the child into adoption.” She took a breath, watching my face closely. “So…… I was thinking I could enter a temporary, fake marriage with him. Just to get his parents off his back and secure the child’s legal birth certificate. Once the baby’s registered, we’ll get divorced immediately.” She emphasized quickly, “It’s just helping out a friend. It doesn’t mean anything.” I held my bowl, perfectly composed on the outside while a wave of pure, unadulterated thrill washed over me. I had been wondering how to extract one final, massive payout from her before my time was up. I looked up at the two of them. “Whose baby is it?” Tim waved a hand carelessly. “Who cares? Some girl from a party. I’m raising it on my own regardless.” Adriana frowned at him. “Watch your mouth.” I laid my utensils down, my tone entirely flat. “Fine. We can get divorced. But how are we dividing the property?” Adriana froze. “It’s a fake divorce, why would we divide anything? Don’t you trust me?” I shook my head slowly. “Then you transfer everything to my name and walk away with nothing.” I locked eyes with her, speaking each word deliberately. “Do “you” trust “me”?” Adriana’s lips parted, entirely caught off guard. Tim crossed his arms, leaning back with an annoyed scowl. “Walk away with nothing? On what grounds? Are you insane?” I ignored Tim entirely, keeping my eyes fixed on my wife. Adriana remained silent for a few agonizing seconds. “I have to keep the company under my name for operational reasons,” she said slowly. “Everything else…… I’ll sign over to you.” I nodded cleanly. “Deal.” Tim’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. “Are you out of your mind? What if he—” Adriana offered a confident, relaxed smile. “I trust Larry. Besides, we’ll be remarrying in six months anyway.” I offered her a polite smile in return, choosing not to say a single word. The look Tim hurled at me was no longer just petty jealousy. It was poison. A few days later, Adriana and Tim publicly announced their sudden engagement online: “My best friend is about to become my forever family.” Social media exploded instantly. Old rumors and gossip were dragged back into the light. In front of a swarm of paparazzi, Tim officially moved his luggage into the estate. Adriana pulled me aside, whispering softly, “We have to make it look convincing for the media.” I shook my head gently. “I don’t mind.” I didn’t care. I had one week left. On the day we went to the family court to file for divorce, the entrance was swarming with reporters. Camera flashes went off like lightning strikes. “Ms. Adriana, are you divorcing your husband due to an extramarital affair?” “Mr. Larry, how do you feel about your wife marrying her best friend?” Adriana frowned, reaching out to block the camera lenses. I calmly wrapped my arm through hers, facing the reporters with a relaxed, composed smile. “Adriana signed over all her personal real estate and cash assets to me in the settlement,” I said clearly into the microphones. “What do I have to be unhappy about? Very few women in the world are this generous.” The crowd of journalists went dead silent. Someone whispered loudly in the back, “Damn, so Larry traded his dignity for a paycheck.” Adriana looked up at me, a flick of deep guilt flashing through her eyes. I simply maintained a refined, dignified smile. Inside the building, we filled out the paperwork, signed the agreements, and took the final photographs. When the clerk handed over the finalized divorce certificates, Adriana took hers, her expression deeply unsettled. “Larry…… I’m really sorry about all this.” I smiled softly. “If you’re truly feeling guilty, why don’t you transfer a portion of your company stock to me as well?” I said it lightly, as if making a casual joke. She thought about it for a moment. “Fine. I’ll give you ten percent.” Within two hours, her corporate lawyer drafted the “Equity Transfer Agreement”, and we both signed it without hesitation. As I walked out of the courthouse doors, Tim was waiting outside, leaning against a luxury sports car. The moment he saw us, he stepped forward and wrapped his arm around Adriana’s waist, pulling her toward the marriage registration window. A seamless transition. Very typical of Tim. Flashy, reckless, and entirely unbothered by public decency. Back at the house, I began packing my remaining belongings into a single suitcase. Adriana grabbed my wrist, stopping me. “Why don’t you just stay here? You can help me take care of Tim while he’s recovering.” I glanced down at her hand, then up at her face. “If I stay, what will Tim’s conservative parents think when they come over and see the ex-husband living in the guest room?” Adriana bit her lip, realizing her oversight. “Then…… at least stay until after the wedding,” she pleaded softly. “If you attend and give us your blessing, the rumors outside won’t be so vicious.” I glanced at the digital calendar on my phone. The wedding was scheduled in three days. The very last day of my five-year term. “Sure,” I smiled gently. “I’ll be there.” It was the perfect timing to deliver my final gift.
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