Chapter 8: The Gathering Storm

I pretended to be surprised and asked why she was back so soon.

She snapped, "Don’t even ask. I’m not going anymore."

Then she went to the bedroom to sulk.

I laughed to myself.

Looks like my plan last night worked perfectly.

Those sow-the-seeds-of-doubt texts were enough to turn Robert Carter’s house upside down.

Robert Carter’s father-in-law isn’t some ordinary guy—he got into the university thanks to his father-in-law’s connections.

So I guessed, all these years, the creep had been under his wife and her family’s thumb, building up a lot of pent-up resentment. Now that he’s made it, he’s acting out in every way he can.

A word to all rich girls: marry your equal. Don’t just try to lift someone up, or you’ll end up with a thankless wolf.

After my little scheme, my girlfriend and the creep kept their heads down for a while, coming home earlier every day.

Once, I secretly saw my girlfriend throwing a fit at the creep.

"Professor, why are you afraid of her? Doesn’t she know she’s old, ugly, and boring? How can she have the nerve to boss you around? I really want to ask her face to face—is being the legal wife so great?"

Ha!

You don’t even know if you’re the fourth or fifth mistress, and you want to shout at the real wife? Who do you think you are?

Saturday morning at 7:30, my girlfriend’s parents called, telling me to hurry to the station and pick them up.

Ever since I bought a house, my girlfriend’s parents, her brother, sister-in-law, and nephew come to the city every few days—and of course, they all stay at my place.

Not only that, I have to be their driver, tour guide, babysitter, and foot the bill for everything.

In the past, for my girlfriend’s sake, I always put up with it.

Now, all I want to say is: screw you.

But it’s not time to blow things up yet.

At the station, the whole family piled into my car like they owned it.

Her dad suddenly said, "Mike, it’s always you picking us up. It’s really too much trouble for you."

I raised my eyebrows.

That’s a first—her dad actually being polite to me.

He squeezed into the backseat with a grunt, the morning sun streaming through the windshield. As I pulled away from the curb, her nephew started asking if we could stop at In-N-Out, and her mom wanted to know if my HOA allowed backyard chickens. They chattered, acting like this was their private Uber. But behind my polite smile, my patience was running razor-thin. I glanced at her dad in the rearview, wondering if he sensed the storm brewing beneath the surface, or if he, too, would be blindsided by the truth that was about to hit us all. If he only knew what was coming, he’d have never gotten in my car.