livestream was a

video of me, the beautiful, weeping homemaker, was

t it was like pouring gasoline on a fire. Every attack she launched, every insult she

let

onth, I launched a line of organic baking mixes and artisanal home goods. They sold out in six hours.

It was "Aspirational Serenity." I was se

te life was a covert operation. I hired a private investigator, an expens

odies were buried. I just needed him to document it. To get the r

appearance. My PI came back with a thick file: invoices from a clinic in Seoul, pre-op and post-op photos of a nose job, a chin implant, and fil

dence and warned against men who drain women financially and emotionally. Privately, she was payi

sive clubs, dropping thousands of Jessi's dollars on bottle servi

I had the PI dig into Chad's past social media. And there it was. A deleted post from the week before Jessi's first attack on me. It

And her fragile, surgically-altered ego couldn't take it. Her cr

eenshot into a folder on a secure, encrypt

at my laptop, a cold smile on my face. He wra

day, my beautiful

hat," I replied,

He just saw his wife, who had turned a vicious attack into a mul

d no

her dig her own grave, deeper and deeper with every h

d when it was tall enough, I would stand on