The next morning, I walked downstairs with a thick black scarf wrapped tightly around my head to hide the bald spots.
I used makeup to paint dark circles under my eyes so that I looked completely ruined and exhausted.
Evelyn sat in the kitchen eating pumpkin seeds, sitting like a royal queen in a house she didn't own and certainly didn't pay for.
“Has he already submitted his formal resignation to that company?” she asked, not even bothering to look up.
“Yes, I did it first thing this morning,” I lied, my voice trembling with a fake tone of defeat. “I’m not going back to the office.”
His eyes shone with pure predatory greed.
“Then take my card and go to the local market immediately.
I want the best cut of meat, fresh bones for the broth, seasonal fruit, and a jar of top-quality agave honey.
Patrick needs to eat like a king.”
“Of course I’ll go, Mom. Use the extra credit card I gave you; you already know the PIN by heart.”
She left the house happy, swinging a designer handbag that I had also bought her during my last business trip.
Half an hour later, my phone, which I had kept hidden, began buzzing with constant, rapid notifications: the transaction decreased, the transaction decreased, the transaction decreased.
I closed my eyes and imagined Evelyn standing in front of the butcher, her face bright red with embarrassment as the whole neighborhood watched her struggle to pay for a single kilo of meat.
Then Patrick started calling me.
Once. Five times. Ten times. I ignored every single one of them.
He sent me desperate text messages: “Why is the card being declined?”, “I’m currently at a restaurant with my boss and I don’t have any cash!”, “Transfer money to me right now, you’re making me look like a fool!”
At seven o'clock in the evening, he burst through the front door, his face purple with rage.
His shirt was wrinkled, his face was sweating, and his pride was clearly shattered.
“What exactly did you do with my credit cards?” he roared, pacing back and forth.
“I didn’t do anything,” I replied, calmly pouring a glass of cold water over myself. “Since I quit my job, the bank froze all our accounts. I have no income anymore. Didn’t you say you were the man of the house and in charge of the money?”
Evelyn entered the room right behind him, carrying a completely empty grocery bag.
“You humiliated me in front of the whole neighborhood at the market!” she shouted.
“No, Mom,” I said, looking straight into her eyes. “It was the fact that you were relying on a card that didn’t win that humiliated you.”
Patrick slammed his fist against the wooden dining table so hard that his glasses rattled.
"Don't try to play these sick games with me, Samantha."
“I’m not playing around. From this day forward, this household will be fully supported by his own salary.”
The silence that followed was absolutely beautiful to me.
Patrick earned enough to brag about, but certainly not enough to maintain the high-maintenance lifestyle he had been subsidizing for years.
The following days were a brutal but necessary lesson for both of them.
The bills for electricity, water, high-speed internet and monthly maintenance fees arrived in the mail.
I took each one of them and stuck them directly onto the front of the refrigerator.
Evelyn, who always insisted on keeping the air conditioning on in the coldest environment, was horrified when the electric company finally cut off the service.
By midday, the house had become a sweltering oven.
Then, the city cut off the water supply to the property.
The kitchen started to smell, the bathroom became completely unbearable, and the food in the refrigerator began to rot.
I spent my time working from my quiet studio, using a small rechargeable fan, drinking cold coffee, and focusing on my laptop screen.
The company had rejected my resignation because I never sent it to human resources.
They gave me a week of remote work and promised to fully protect my executive position.
On the fourth day, Patrick was forced to borrow money from a loan shark just to reconnect basic services.
That same night, I decided to hit him with another truth.
He had discovered dozens of messages on his old secondary cell phone about hidden bets, high-interest loans, and money transfers to a woman named Chloe.
“You owe these people more than a million pesos,” I told him, throwing copies of his financial records onto the kitchen table.
“Gambling, bad loans, hotel stays, and you even stole the gold wedding coins my parents gave me as a gift.”
Evelyn paled, and her mouth hung open in shock.
“Patrick, tell me this is just a lie.”
“It’s all her fault!” he shouted, pointing a shaky finger at me. “She’s always working! A real man needs constant attention, and I was neglected!”
I laughed at him, a dry, bitter, and cold sound.
"Did you also need your mother to hold me and shave my head while I slept?"
That night, I installed small, hidden cameras in the living room and main hallway.
I already knew that when a parasite loses its food source, it eventually tries to bite.
It didn't take long for them to show their true colors.
Evelyn tried to give me a cup of tea, claiming that it would "help me sleep better" after all the stress.
I poured it down the sink and pretended to fall into a deep, drug-induced sleep.
At midnight, she and Patrick entered my room with a heavy flashlight and a set of tools.
They were desperate to get into my private safe to steal the house deeds.
After twenty minutes of struggle, they finally managed to open the heavy door.
No property deeds were found inside.
Instead, there was only a single printed sheet of paper that read: “The house is registered solely in my name and the documents are stored in a secure vault. Good night, thieves.”
The next morning, none of them dared to look me in the eye.
But Patrick still had one final, dirtier card to play.
Two days later, he entered the house with a girl named Chloe, who was wearing too much makeup, dressed in revealing clothes, and had a belly that looked too round and perfect.
“I would like you to meet the woman I truly love,” Patrick announced with a blossoming smile.
“She’s pregnant with my child. This is the first grandchild in this family. So, you’re going to sign these divorce papers and leave the house to us.”
Evelyn began to cry tears of joy and immediately ran to stroke Chloe's belly.
“Finally, an heir to our legacy.”
Chloe looked at me with a mocking and cruel expression.
“Love is not to blame for the fact that a wife doesn’t know how to keep her husband interested in her.”
I didn't bother to answer him.
I just saw her: hard, tall, and strange-looking.
I looked at her ten-centimeter designer heels, her overwhelming perfume, and the way she moved around the room without the natural caution of a pregnant woman.
I allowed a small, knowing smile to touch my lips.
"Okay. You two can stay for a few days while I sort everything out with my lawyer."
They truly believed they had won the war.
They had no idea that they had just walked onto the stage where he had carefully planned to expose each and every one of their pathetic lies.
CHAPTER 3: The Final Curtain
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