On the day of our holiday family gathering, my wife, Vivian Hayes, with whom I had signed a prenuptial agreement stipulating a 10,000x payback of my assets if she cheated, took her young assistant, Liam Foster, to my private vineyard. She claimed Liam was away from his family and she wanted to make him feel truly welcome and cherished. So she lavished billions on him right there, splashing out money just to see him smile. As their emotions deepened, fueled by the cheers of the crowd, they linked arms and shared an intimate toast. My assistant sent me a screenshot from Liam Foster’s SnapChat story: “You truly become yourself when you meet the right person.” In the photo, the look in Vivian Hayes’ eyes as she gazed at him was brimming with an unadulterated affection, a fervent tenderness I hadn’t seen in five long years. I smirked, then casually froze her supplementary credit card – the one with a hundred billion dollar limit. “Honey, I’m doing a team-building event with my staff. Why isn’t my card working?” she called, her voice tight. “Everyone’s watching. Don’t make me look bad.” I replied calmly, “Ms. Hayes, have you forgotten who you are?” She hesitated for a moment. “Honey, don’t joke around with me. You’ll spoil everyone’s fun.” “Oh, really? If you love drinking so much, then live stream yourself chugging every bottle in the vineyard. I’ll unfreeze the card instantly.” A minute passed. She hadn’t taken a single sip. I sent her a trending news headline instead: “Hayes Group’s Hundred-Billion-Dollar Company Declared Bankrupt.” Since she loved splurging billions on her little assistant, I figured she should experience a thousandfold payback first!
As Wall Street reeled from a hundred-billion-dollar company collapsing in an instant, Vivian Hayes FaceTimed me. “Honey, stop messing with me! There are tens of thousands of bottles here. How can I possibly drink them all? It’ll kill me!” She looked pleading, yet utterly helpless. I chuckled. “I’ll ask just one question: Drink? Or not drink?” “You only have one minute, by the way! After all, people always have to pay for their actions…” I hadn’t even finished speaking when she hung up. Soon, her colleagues who were there sent me a video. In it, Vivian Hayes picked up bottle after bottle of red wine from the table, chugging them down like tap water. In another corner of the video, the white t-shirt boy was frantically yelling “Don’t drink!” looking ready to fight the person who forced Vivian to drink. With a cold scoff, I grabbed my bag and headed to the vineyard. On the way, my colleagues kept sending me messages. “Mr. Thorne, Ms. Hayes has already had thirteen bottles. Is she really okay?” “Her little assistant is over there, crying pathetically. It’s so annoying! Who does he think he is? I just want to slap him!” “Mr. Thorne, Liam Foster’s resignation letter is ready. When should we notify him?” “Some women get a little power and really start to believe they’re untouchable. Can’t wait to see her downfall!” I let out a soft laugh. It wasn’t that I absolutely had to confront her face-to-face. After all, I rake in millions every minute. She’s not worth even a second of my time. But people have to pay for their mistakes. And this whole spectacle wouldn’t be complete without me, would it? I pushed open the door and walked toward Vivian Hayes, who was sprawled on the couch, clearly drunk. My colleagues, seeing me, nervously tried to pull her up. She irritably shook them off. “What do you want!?” I watched as she lifted her head, her eyes flashing with resentment for a split second before it morphed into a desperate plea. “Honey, is that enough…? I’ve had twenty bottles.” Seeing Vivian’s pathetic act, I squatted down, gripping her chin. With my thumb and forefinger, I forced her lips into a smile. “What’s wrong, darling? Not having fun drinking? Smile for me, or someone might think I, Alexander Thorne, am mistreating you.” Vivian turned her head away in humiliation. I roughly twisted her chin back. “What, already feeling sorry for yourself? Weren’t you having such a blast with that intimate toast earlier?” Vivian opened her mouth, as if to explain, but ultimately said nothing. “You, how could you treat your wife like that? Don’t you see how drunk Ms. Hayes is? Just because you’re rich, you think you can insult people however you want?!” “Hey! Say something!” Liam, in his white tee and jeans, his eyes red-rimmed, puffed up his chest, trying to act tough as he shielded Vivian behind him. I smirked dismissively. But I ignored him, my gaze fixed on Vivian Hayes, who had stopped drinking and turned to meet my eyes. “What? You want to stand up for him?!” Vivian’s eyes were unreadable. She paused, then picked up another bottle of wine and chugged most of it down in one go. A cold smile played on my lips as I slanted a glance at the boy. Our eyes met, and he took two steps back. But then something seemed to click in his mind, and he angrily retorted, “What? Am I wrong? Who treats their wife like this? You have no sympathy!” I laughed, walking toward him step by step. With each step I took, he retreated one, until he was backed against the wall, nowhere left to go. I stood over him, laughing condescendingly. “What? So you *do* know this is someone else’s wife, huh? So, how does it feel to spend someone else’s money?” Liam’s eyes were red, as if he’d suffered a grave insult. He threw his head back and yelled at me, “You, don’t you dare slander me and Vivian! We’re just colleagues. Your own mind is dirty, that’s why everything you see is dirty!” “No wonder Vivian never wants to come home. You’re so controlling and domineering, what woman could stand it?” “Shut up!” Vivian, no longer feigning drunkenness, snapped sharply. I chuckled softly. “Vivian Hayes, so this is the kind of trash you fall for?” “Being brainless is one thing, but he’d look embarrassing as a mere office decoration. Your taste has really hit rock bottom.” Vivian looked up at me, her eyes filled with anxiety. “Honey, I know I was wrong, but there’s really nothing between me and him.” Before she could finish, I chuckled softly. “Don’t bother. I don’t have time for your nonsense. Finish all these drinks and be home by eleven tonight.” On the drive home, the scenery outside the car window flashed by. I never thought things with Vivian Hayes would become so ugly. Five years ago, she came to interview at my company. She wore a simple white dress, elegant and pure, standing out brightly in the crowd. In just three months, she went from one of over a hundred interns to a full-time employee and then my trusted assistant in one go. But she always did things for me that went beyond work, gestures that were thoughtful yet never crossed a line. She’d always have an extra umbrella for me during the rainy season, remembered every tiny preference I had, and would even mischievously give me candy on Children’s Day. Then, when I turned 25, my family started pressuring me. I was about to enter a marriage alliance with another prominent family. She blushed, stammering, “Mr. Thorne, I know I’m not good enough for you, but I’m afraid if I don’t say some things now, I’ll never have the chance…” “Mr. Thorne… can you wait for me? Wait until I can stand beside you as your equal someday…” Honestly, I was indifferent. High-society alliances, after all, are nothing more than mutually beneficial arrangements. But the young woman’s blushing confession did genuinely move me. However, as the CEO of a trillion-dollar empire, a little bit of emotional stirring didn’t stop me from making her sign a prenuptial agreement. If she ever went back on her word, if she ever cheated on me. Then every penny I spent on her would have to be repaid tenfold. For the next three years, I propelled her from behind the scenes to the forefront. I gave her a net worth of hundreds of billions, and her brother became a massively popular movie star. The Hayes family enjoyed unprecedented glory, their influence unmatched. Everyone greeted her with respect, calling her “Ms. Hayes.” But some things, when acquired too easily, don’t seem to be a good thing. It was 10:50 PM when Vivian Hayes sent another message. “Honey, I’m closing a deal. I’ll be home late.” I scoffed, indifferently going back to my work. “Martha, did you just make hangover soup? Pour it out!” That night, a colleague sent me a screenshot of Liam’s SnapChat story. “At 4 AM, I saw the crabapple blossoms were still awake.” The accompanying picture was a selfie of Liam, in dim light, with Vivian’s wedding ring reflected in a swirling glass of red wine. Immediately after, a friend sent me a video. Vivian, with Liam and a large group of her friends, clinking glasses and having a wild time at a private club. “Isn’t that your Vivian? She’s really soaring these days!” “Mr. Thorne, are you losing your touch with your wife?” I couldn’t help but laugh dryly. These two, either their combined IQ couldn’t hit triple digits, or they were openly rubbing my face in the dirt. They clearly knew that club was owned by my friend. They clearly knew I’d warned her to be home by eleven. Vivian Hayes, I gave you a chance. You just didn’t cherish it. I sneered, opened my SnapChat chat with Vivian, and casually unpinned her from the top of my contacts. “Ms. Hayes, you’re getting quite bold now.” Two minutes passed. No reply. I asked my assistant, “Did she check her phone?” “She glanced at it, then put it face down on the table.” I let out a sharp laugh. When did Vivian Hayes learn to play hide-and-seek with me? “Evading problems won’t solve them, Ms. Hayes. Don’t you understand that?” Casually, I had my assistant send her brother’s script termination notice, along with the Hayes Group acquisition agreement. “Alexander Thorne, you’ve gone too far!” She FaceTimed me directly, her face flushed, brows furrowed. I slowly sipped my red wine. “Heh, this is ‘too far’? Vivian Hayes, is this your first day knowing me?” I set my phone aside and slowly said, “I’m a little unhappy today.” “I’ll give you two choices. Either live-stream yourself slapping your own face, and while you’re at it, call yourself a home-wrecker – make sure you hit hard enough that everyone, even the stray dogs on the street, hears it. Let me check the time… It’s 11:20 PM, isn’t it? If it goes over 1200 seconds, then that’s 1200 slaps.” “Or, you can make that man get on stage right now and perform a striptease.” “Just do one, to cheer me up, okay?”
Friends kept sending me videos recorded live from the White Lily Club. Liam Foster, truly looking like a delicate, wilting flower. His afternoon white tee and jeans were replaced with skimpy clothing, just a few silver chains barely covering his body. He cowered on the stage, his face full of resentment, yet he had no choice but to comply. The audience below went wild. The audience, used to bold, hot male models, were absolutely electrified by this starkly contrasting performance, their restless souls wildly agitated. “Do you know who’s on stage? Ms. Hayes from Hayes Group’s toy boy!” “Apparently, the real boss caught them red-handed, and that’s how we got this amazing show!” “Holy cow, Mr. Thorne, you’ve got quite the entertainment lined up! My club’s revenue today is going to double!” my friend excitedly messaged me. “This is just the beginning.” The next second, I told my assistant to go to the club and scatter a billion dollars on the spot. The entire club floor was covered in red cash, like heaven. “Liam Foster’s dance was great today. Mr. Thorne is in a good mood, so let everyone have some fun.” The cheers from the crowd were deafening, enough to blow the roof off. “Mr. Thorne is a legend! Happier than winning the lottery, that’s what this is!” “But Alex, are you really okay?” my friend asked, a hint of worry in his voice. I scoffed. “You call this ‘something’?” Half an hour later, Vivian Hayes returned, her face haggard, a cold, defeated expression etched on her features. “Alexander Thorne, are you satisfied now?” I held my red wine, scrutinizing this broken, haggard woman, and shook my head. I scoffed and walked directly into the bedroom. “Alexander Thorne, I’m truly so disappointed in you! I never thought you’d treat a young man fresh out of college like this!” “He’s so naive and kind. How will he ever be able to hold his head high after being publicly humiliated by you like that?” Through the closed door, every word of Vivian Hayes’ voice was laced with resentment. I opened the door and leaned against the frame, watching the woman who claimed to have loved me for five years, now gritting her teeth and questioning me with hatred. Instead of getting angry, I laughed. “Naive?” “Vivian Hayes, tell me, is there any part of you that he hasn’t touched? And you call him ‘naive’?” Vivian’s face flushed instantly. “Are you listening to rumors again? Alexander Thorne, I know many people in the company are loyal to you, but do you have absolutely no trust in your own wife?” “Hmph, trust?” “You were practically sleeping with him right in front of my damn face. What? If there’s no evidence, it doesn’t count as cheating, right?” “Well, I’ll tell you what. I just don’t f***ing like him, alright?!” Seeing my indifferent expression, Vivian clenched her fists, wanting to say something, but ultimately remaining silent. “And another thing, Vivian Hayes. If you had reached where you are today purely by your own merit, even if you kept a hundred toy boys outside, you’d still be my wife when you came home. But now, you’re taking my money and spending it on other men? Whose face are you slapping now?” As I spoke, I walked up to her, looking up at her eyes, which, though showing faint lines, were still beautiful. *Pat, pat, pat.* I lightly slapped her cheek, a faint smile on my face. As if suddenly realizing something, she tensed. “Alex, you wouldn’t…” I turned around and took a stack of photos from my bag. “Yes, exactly what you’re thinking.” “Look, they’re all lining up to be Mrs. Thorne. Looks, figure, education – which one isn’t better than you? And they know how to please, they’re good in bed.” “More importantly, they’re all younger than you.” With that, I gave a pitying glance at her increasingly fatigued face. Vivian Hayes deflated like a punctured balloon. “If it weren’t for the fact that you’re my wife, heh.” At the bottom of the stack of photos was that prenuptial agreement, the one with the ten thousand times payback clause. “What happened with your brother and your dad was just a warning. You should know that if I can take you from having nothing to becoming Ms. Hayes, a woman everyone gives face to, I can also make you…” I didn’t say the last few words, just gave her another scrutinizing look. And that single glance caused Vivian Hayes to suddenly lunge into my arms. “Honey, I’m sorry, I… I’ve just been under too much stress lately.” “But I really didn’t cheat. I, I’ve always loved you…” The moment she embraced me, the scent of alcohol, cigarettes, and cheap men’s cologne from her overwhelmed me. A violent wave of nausea surged through me. I pushed her away, perhaps a little too forcefully. She stumbled, hitting the doorknob, but I felt no pity. “Vivian Hayes, why do you think I’d believe a word you say?” *Thud.* Vivian suddenly knelt down. *Slap, slap, slap, slap…* Left cheek, then right cheek, she kept slapping herself. In that instant, I felt absolutely nothing. I got up and walked directly to my study. Only when I opened the door did I turn my head, my tone serious for the last time. “You don’t need to put on this act for me. I’m busy. But I am seriously informing you: this is the first and last time between us. I won’t give you another chance. Think carefully.” “Think about how you got to where you are today. And then give me a satisfactory answer tomorrow.” The next day, Vivian Hayes fired Liam Foster in front of the entire company. Liam walked out of the company, clutching a cardboard box, tears welling in his eyes, resentment clear in their depths. “Oh, isn’t that the guy who tried to climb into bed to get ahead? What, found another rich woman?”
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