Chapter 4

Sure enough, less than half an hour later, my phone started vibrating like crazy.

It was his family's group chat on Snapchat.

Tristan’s mother, Pamela, tagged me directly.

First, she sent a screenshot of an Hermès bag's price from some online article, circling the five-figure price tag in bright red.

Then came a 50-second voice note.

I tapped it and put it on speaker.

Pamela's sharp, screeching voice, heavy with her dramatic accent, instantly filled the living room:

"Oh my god! Valerie! Are you trying to drive my poor Tristan to an early grave?!"

"Tens of thousands of dollars on a single bag?! Is that something decent, normal people carry?!"

"You married into our family, which makes you a Vance! How can you be so selfish and disregard your home?!"

"Tristan works day and night to bring home money. It’s not easy for him! And here you are, throwing fortunes around, carrying a house on your shoulder! How am I supposed to show my face to the neighbors?! They’re going to laugh us out of the neighborhood!"

"Our family is too small for a high-and-mighty princess like you! If you don't want to build a life with my son, just say so! You can't just waste money and bully my boy like this!"

"I can't take this anymore! My chest... my heart..."

The voice note ended with a series of loud, exaggerated gasps.

The group chat exploded. Tristan’s aunts, uncles, and cousins immediately started chiming in.

"@Valerie, honey, this really isn't right. A good wife needs to be humble and thrifty."

"@Tristan, you need to control your wife. This is getting ridiculous!"

"I thought she was highly educated. How can she be so clueless about how to run a home?"

I watched the screen, my face expressionless.

Tristan stood nearby, a smug look of satisfaction on his face mixed with a bit of unease. He muttered, "Look at what you did. You got my mom all worked up. It's so embarrassing. Just apologize to her in the group chat and promise you won't do it again."

I didn't reply to anyone in the group chat, nor did I look at Tristan.

Instead, I typed out a cold, precise paragraph and sent it directly into the group:

"Pamela, first of all, every single dollar I spend is legally earned through my own hard work."

"Second, Tristan and I are married, but our finances are kept strictly separate under the 50/50 agreement he insisted on. My personal spending has nothing to do with him, and it certainly has nothing to do with you."

"Third, I have taken screenshots of all the personal attacks, insults, and malicious slander posted by you and the relatives in this chat. Under civil law, this constitutes harassment and defamation. If this continues, I will not hesitate to take legal action to protect my reputation."

Once sent, I muted the phone and flipped it face down on the table.

The world fell completely silent.

I knew Tristan and his mother wouldn't let this go.

I walked over to my desk and opened my laptop.

It was time. Time to give them a lesson they would never forget.