Chapter 4The "Mechanics" Club

When I woke up the next morning, Mark had already made breakfast.

He wore a deliberately relaxed smile on his face, but the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes betrayed his tension.

"Honey, have you seen my tablet?"

"I have a quarterly report for work. I need to use it to send some files."

He poured me a glass of soy milk, asking the question far too casually.

I shook my head. "Haven't seen it. Didn't you leave it in the living room yesterday?"

"Weird." He scratched his head, turning toward the living room, his footsteps noticeably faster than usual. "I distinctly remember leaving it on the sofa..."

I followed behind him, watching as he tore the sofa cushions apart.

I crouched down to help him pick up a throw pillow, keeping my voice as natural as possible. "Wait, didn't you use it for a video call in the bedroom the day before yesterday?"

He let out an "Ah!" like he just remembered, and immediately turned and headed for the bedroom.

Taking advantage of the noise he was making rummaging through the bedroom drawers, I sprinted to the home office, grabbed the tablet, took several rapid screenshots, cleared the recent app usage history, and then bolted back to the living room to shove it deep between the sofa cushions.

The sound of cabinet doors and drawers slamming open and shut echoed from the bedroom. Mark was starting to panic. "Where the hell is it?!"

I slowly sipped my soy milk, watching him pace through every room in the house like he was conducting a grid search.

Soon enough, I heard Mark shout from the living room: "Found it! That's so weird, I swore I just looked here!"

When I walked over, he was holding the tablet and smiling, but his fingers were swiping frantically across the screen. When he saw the screen was completely clean, his tense shoulders finally dropped. He looked up at me and laughed. "My memory is getting worse every day."

When I wasn't looking, he quickly found WeChat, switched accounts, and logged out.

But I couldn't stop the corners of my mouth from curling up into a smirk.

He thought he was safe now, completely unaware that I had already set a trap.

I knew he would eventually realize he needed to log out of WeChat.

So, on my way home from work yesterday, I stopped by a convenience store and bought a prepaid burner phone and SIM card.

I registered a new WeChat account with the burner number. The profile picture was a vintage motorcycle, and the display name was "Classic Ride."

The most crucial step was what I did while he was asleep last night.

I opened the group chat, tapped the "Invite Friend" button, scanned the QR code with my new WeChat account, and immediately deleted the invitation record from his tablet.

So, even though he had logged out of WeChat, he had absolutely no idea that a new pair of eyes was permanently watching his group chat.

Mark put the tablet away, stood up, and patted my shoulder. "I'm heading to work. I might have to work late tonight."

The moment the door clicked shut, I immediately pulled out my phone and opened my new WeChat account.

The little red notification dot for the group chat was bouncing wildly.

Mark had just sent a voice message. "Went a little too hard the day before yesterday and scratched up the paint. That '01 model needs some serious maintenance. The 'Classic Ride' at home is throwing a tantrum and won't let me drive for the next couple days. Boys, if you're taking the cars out, remember to bring me along."

He continued messaging the group, complaining that his "old car" at home needed to be "repaired."

I couldn't resist tagging him. "How are you going to repair it? Aren't you worried the 'old car' might find a new owner?"

"A new owner?"

"I could give her all the courage in the world, and she still wouldn't have the nerve to leave me!"

I honestly didn't understand. Just a second ago, this man was acting like he couldn't bear to part with me for a single night, and the moment he walked out the door, he was dragging my name through the mud.

He quickly revealed the answer himself.

Mark typed, radiating arrogance. "You guys don't know the full story. When I bought this 'old car,' not only did I not pay a dime, but it actually came with a free house and a career attached!"

I bit down hard on my lip. The metallic taste of blood instantly exploded in my mouth.

The guys in the group were immediately interested. "Damn, deals like that actually exist? Where did you buy it? Can you hook me up with one?"

It was a painful memory I thought I would never have to revisit.

But Mark's reply dragged me straight down into an inescapable abyss.

I recognized every single word he typed.

But pieced together, they felt like countless daggers plunging directly into my eyes.

"You gotta be smart about it, boys. You scratch up the paint in the dark yourself, then you show up like a savior. A little pity, a little heartbreak... not only do you take over the lease with zero down and zero monthly payments, but the idiot actually thanks you for it."

"You played the villain and the hero?!"

"Absolute genius, man!"

...

Mark soaked up the group's praise, then quickly deleted his previous message.

"Men are the sky, and women are the earth. The earth must obey the sky, and women must obey men. We men are born to conquer the world on horseback. Everyone talks about passing down traditional virtues, but somehow they conveniently forgot about the tradition of having multiple wives and mistresses!

"The 'old car' should be grateful I don't throw her out for being worn down! Haha!"

My grip on the phone was so tight the screen nearly cracked.

Originally, I just wanted to gather enough evidence to divorce him with my dignity intact. But now, I wanted him to drown like a maggot in the filthy sewage he had poured all over me, never to see the light of day again.

I wanted to see it.

I wanted to see how a man like this "conquered the world."

He pushed me into the abyss, then stood on the edge and threw down a frayed rope, expecting me to grovel in gratitude as I climbed up?

Pathetic. Men might think they conquer the world on horseback, but women give birth to life. We bring new life into this world, and we absolutely will not allow the animals born beneath our skirts to stab us in the back!