"My Wife Found My Secret: I'm The World's Most Powerful Billionaire"

The host, sensing the chat spiraling into chaos, scrambled to redirect attention. "Alright everyone, the search officially begins NOW! Our five elite investigators will conduct a 360-degree sweep of this property. Nothing gets past them!" The team fanned out immediately, moving with military precision—checking drawers, tapping walls, scanning for loose floorboards. But the live stream audience... wasn't buying it. After the rural vs. urban flame war, most viewers were already bored. "This is gonna be a bust. Calling it now." "Big yard, sure. But rural property is WORTHLESS. You could sell this whole place and barely afford a closet in Manhattan." "Show should've stayed in the city. This countryside gimmick is a FAIL." "No drama = no watch. I'm out." The viewer count started dropping. The host's smile turned brittle. Behind the camera, the director frantically gestured: Keep them engaged! She pivoted fast, turning the lens back on Monica. "Mrs. Rivers, let's chat while the team works! Tell us—how did you and your husband meet?" Monica's face softened, eyes sparkling. "We met at a library. It was... love at first sight, honestly." The chat erupted. "A LIBRARY?! Why don't I ever meet girls like this?!" "'Love at first sight' my a*s. More like l**t at first sight." "Stop lying. Love at first sight is just horny at first glance." The host pressed on. "How long have you been married?" Monica blushed. "Our second anniversary is coming up soon—actually, our anniversary is on my husband's birthday. Same day." "You really love him, don't you?" Monica's cheeks turned pink. "In college, I had dozens of guys asking me out. I turned them all down. But when Grant proposed..." She smiled shyly. "I didn't hesitate for even a second." "DOZENS of guys? She's gotta be top-tier wifey material." "Dozens? Try HUNDREDS. Look at her. She's a literal goddess." "I smell humble-bragging. But honestly? She's earned it." "Grant whatever-his-name-is hit the jackpot. No cap." The host leaned in. "Who handles the housework in your relationship?" Monica tilted her head, confused by the question. "Me, of course. Grant works hard at his teaching job—he's exhausted when he gets home. I want our home to be a place he can relax." The chat exploded again. "WAIT. Women still do housework?! I thought that was extinct!" "My girlfriend told me if I can't cook, I'm not a real man. WTF." "This guy's life is a CHEAT CODE. He married an actual angel." "Did he save the galaxy in a past life or something? How else do you explain this luck?" "I just slapped my wife and told her I'm DONE cooking, DONE cleaning, DONE being a doormat. Real men don't do chores!" "Bro I just called my girlfriend. She's out with her 'guy friend' right now. Told her to come home and make me dinner. IMMEDIATELY." "'Guy friend'? Dude... you're getting played. Might wanna check if you're already living on a farm with all that GRASS around you. 🐄" "HOLY SH*T YOU'RE RIGHT. I'm ditching this stream. Gotta go defend my territory!" Thirty minutes passed. Normally, by this point, the investigators would've found something—a wad of cash in a shoe, bills tucked in a book, a secret compartment. But today? Nothing. The host was sweating. The director was furiously whispering into her earpiece. Monica, oblivious, smiled sweetly at the camera. "Have they found anything yet?" The host wanted to scream. Girl, read the room! She'd been banking on Monica's charm to carry the stream a little longer, but now she had to face reality. She forced a bright smile. "Well, it's been about half an hour... I'm sure our investigators have made some progress. Let's check in with them!" She turned toward the crew, praying for a miracle.