Chapter 2
685 Words
AI continued to perform its duty diligently.
"Retrieving chat history between host Howard and contact Clara, conducting sentiment analysis."
The next second, the largest white wall of the coffee shop transformed into a gigantic chat screen.
The timestamps stretched all the way back to three years ago, right after we got married.
The profile picture of that pinned contact was a white lotus.
Howard's face had turned pale.
He slumped there, motionless.
AI's cold electronic tone continued to echo through the coffee shop, putting him on public display for humiliation.
It even thoughtfully converted voice clips to text and marked the tone of each message in different colored fonts.
"Clara (gentle): Are you tired from work today? Did that woman upset you again?"
"Howard (exhausted): Don't get me started, my confidante. She insists on messing around with that stupid coffee shop; she's totally insane. I told her a woman should stay home and manage the household for her husband and raise the kids, but she just won't listen."
"Clara (sympathetic): Oh, she's too headstrong, so completely unreasonable. She's not like me. I only care about you."
"Howard (dependent): You're the best. Only when I talk to you do I feel like there's any hope in this life."
"Clara (encouraging): Silly guy, don't say that. You have to take good care of yourself."
I never knew that my reserved husband, who couldn't even say a single sweet line to me, could be so gentle and act so spoiled with someone else.
It turned out he wasn't incapable of it.
It was just that his sweet words, his vulnerability, and his dependence were never meant for me.
They were all for Moonlight Drinker, my mother.
My stomach was churning, and a wave of intense nausea surged straight up my throat.
Howard had completely collapsed onto the floor, his eyes hollow and empty.
But AI's trial was far from over.
The screen displaying the chat logs faded away.
A huge electronic table of fund transfers filled the entire wall.
The screen showed: Retrieving fund transfer records between linked accounts of the two parties to the agreement.
The first transfer happened three years ago, shortly after our wedding.
Sum: 100,000 dollars.
Remarks: For new clothes.
The second transfer happened two years ago.
Sum: 800,000 dollars.
Remarks: To support your personal art gallery. Make your artist dream come true.
The third transfer happened one year ago.
Sum: 300,000 dollars.
Remarks: Buy the best skincare products.
...
One transfer after another was listed, dense and numerous, shocking me to the core.
Finally, at the very bottom of the table, a total figure marked in blood-red popped out abruptly.
It read: Within three years, host Howard has transferred a total of 5,170,000 dollars to the personal account and affiliated enterprises of related party "Clara".
It suddenly reminded me of my coffee shop.
When I was opening it, I was still 200,000 dollars short for the startup capital.
I swallowed my pride and begged him to support my dream.
I remember exactly what he said that day.
He said, "Every cent I earn comes from hard work. It's not meant to be pissed away on your childish games.
"A woman ought to know her place and stay put. Stop trying to put yourself out there all the time. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"
In the end, I sold the only thing my grandmother left me—a full set of jade jewelry—to scrape together the money.
He wouldn't let me "waste" his money.
But he didn't even blink when he threw hundreds of thousands at Moonlight Drinker, my mother, Clara.
Every single customer in the coffee shop set down their cups.
The live stream comment section was flooded with nothing but shocked reactions.
Netizen A: Unbelievable! The woman is scamming her son-in-law out of money?
Netizen B: This isn't just cheating anymore. This is fraud.
Netizen C: This guy is dumb as a rock, getting scammed out of over five hundred thousand...
Netizen D: Listen up above, the point is that the person he's cheating with is his mother-in-law! His mother-in-law!!!
- Writer
