During dinner, my husband sl:apped me because I forgot to put salt in the soup. His mother burst out laughing.

The blaring sirens grew louder with each passing second, tearing through the quiet night of the elite neighborhood. The sound dội into the penthouse dining room, turning the warm atmosphere once filled with the scent of roasted chicken into a suffocating trap.

Daniel remained standing, his arms dangling loosely at his sides, his eyes glued to the iPad screen flashing red text from the bank. He frantically tried to log into his financial app, but the screen only displayed a cold prompt: Access Denied. Please contact the primary account holder. He turned to look at his wife, the woman he had slapped just five minutes ago. She was now casually leaning against the bar, calmly taking a sip of water as if she had just executed a routine business transaction rather than calling the police on her own husband.

"What... what did you just do, Claire?" Daniel’s voice cracked, stripped of all the authority of a man who called this apartment his kingdom. "Canceling my cards? Calling the police? Have you lost your mind? We are married!"

Vivian, finally realizing that something was terribly wrong, stood up abruptly from her high-backed chair. Her expensive green gown swiped against the edge of the table, overturning a glass of red wine. The crimson liquid loang lổ across the cream sheepskin rug. "Claire! How dare you play these cheap tricks? My son did you a favor by marrying a low-class property consultant! What right do you have to freeze his accounts?"

Claire set her glass down onto the quartz countertop with a dull, sharp clink. She looked at the mother and son, her eyes holding no anger—only pure, unadulterated disgust.

"Your family's kingdom?" Claire let out a soft, mocking laugh that echoed through the vast space. "Vivian, you open your mouth and say 'my house,' 'get out of my house.' For three years, I tolerated you rearranging my kitchen, criticizing my clothes, opening my mail, and calling me the charity case Daniel married. You thought my silence was out of fear? No. I stayed quiet because I wanted to see exactly how far your greed and delusions would carry you."

Claire stepped forward, her high heels clicking rhythmically, making absolute and decisive sounds against the marble tiles her late father had personally selected ten years ago.

"Daniel, you signed our prenuptial agreement without reading a single word because you were too busy taking photos on this balcony to brag to your friends online that you bought a four-million-dollar penthouse," Claire stood face-to-face with her trembling husband. "This apartment was purchased entirely with the inheritance my father left me before he passed away. The deed reads Claire Henderson. There isn't a single letter spelling 'Vance' on this property."

Daniel’s face instantly drained of color, turning as white as a corpse. He took a staggered step back, nearly tripping over a dining chair. "No... that's impossible. I am your husband, marital assets are supposed to be split fifty-fifty..."

"You haven't worked a single day for the past two years since you quit your finance job," Claire interrupted, her words sharp as a legal indictment. "You lived off my commissions from my real estate deals. You used my supplementary credit cards to buy those luxury suits and to fund your mother's weekly spa visits. Our prenuptial agreement states explicitly: All pre-marital assets are entirely protected, and in the event of documented domestic abuse verified by authorities, the offending party must vacate the premises immediately with absolutely nothing."

"Claire! You can't do this! My son has a reputation!" Vivian shrieked, lunging forward to grab Claire, but right then, a thunderous banging erupted from the front door.

"Police! Open the door immediately!"