Chapter 1

I came home early from a business trip and found the guest bedroom door locked from the inside.

My wife Kingsley frantically blocked my way.

"That's for my mom. She's a light sleeper—don't wake her up."

But her mother had just left for a world tour last month.

I nodded and turned toward the study.

I opened the home security system I'd just installed a few days ago.

On the screen, a strange man lay on the guest bedroom bed.

And there was my wife in sexy lingerie and black stockings, riding that man hard, hips thrusting up and down.

I sent the surveillance footage directly to our family group chat.

Then I dialed property management.

"Hello, there's an intruder in my home, hiding in the guest bedroom. Please bring a few security guards up."

After I hung up, the living room fell deathly silent.

Kingsley tried to rush over and explain, but I froze her in place with a single look.

The doorbell shattered the fragile quiet, urgent and loud.

Several uniformed security guards stood at the door—tall, imposing men holding riot control forks, their expressions serious.

Kingsley's face instantly drained of color.

She rushed over like a madwoman and pressed her body against the door to keep it shut.

"You can't come in! That's my cousin! He's sick and recovering at my place!"

She screamed herself hoarse, as if that could turn her lies into truth.

I laughed coldly and addressed the head security guard.

"We don't have any cousin like that."

The security captain frowned and spoke in a businesslike tone. "Ma'am, please cooperate. We need to open the door and verify the situation."

"No! This is my home! What right do you have to barge in!"

Kingsley clung to the doorframe, her nails nearly embedding themselves in the wood.

I didn't want to waste more words on her, but out of consideration for her last shred of dignity, I didn't show the explicit sex tape to outsiders. Instead, I pulled up another video.

This other video was enough to prove her infidelity.

I turned my phone screen toward the security guards and pressed play.

In the clear surveillance footage, Kingsley was tenderly spoon-feeding soup to that strange man, her eyes filled with care and love—a hundred times more intense than anything she'd ever shown me.

This was the same video I'd sent to the family group chat.

The security captain's expression immediately changed from professional to a mixture of contempt and seriousness.

He said nothing more. With a gesture, two guards stepped forward and effortlessly pulled Kingsley away from the door.

She screamed and struggled like a fish thrown onto shore.

"Bradley! You bastard! You can't do this to me!"

The guest bedroom door was unlocked with a key.

A pale, sickly-looking man wearing my pajamas stared at the scene in terror.

At the same time, my phone began vibrating wildly.

I didn't need to look to know—the family group chat had exploded.

[Bradley's Home Security]: Video.mp4

My dad: [What's going on?!]

My mom: [Who is this man? Why is Kingsley taking care of him?]

Mother-in-law: [Bradley, what's the meaning of this! Are you spying on my daughter?!]

Father-in-law: [Kingsley! Call me back immediately!]

The screen flooded with exclamations and questions.

Right in front of everyone—including Kingsley restrained by security and the terrified man—I made another call.

This time, to 911.

"Hello, I need to report something."

"A strange man entered my home. My wife is harboring him and illegally transferring marital assets."

My voice wasn't loud, but in the deathly quiet room, each word landed like a hammer blow.

Kingsley's sobbing stopped abruptly. She stared at me in disbelief, her expression shifting from resentment to fear.

She finally understood—I wasn't joking.

I was personally putting her on the path to ruin.