The Cold Divorce: 60 Seconds of Truth

I checked my watch. The first second ticked by.

The woman leaned against the kitchen counter, casually swirling a glass of vintage red wine I had personally brought back from France. She was young, her beauty sharp yet superficial. Most importantly, she was draped in my hand-embroidered silk robe—a gift I had commissioned for myself.

“Your husband is mine,” she repeated, her voice dripping with a smug sense of victory. “He told me he never truly loved someone as cold and robotic as you.”

My husband, Nam, stood behind her. He couldn’t meet my eyes. He stared at the floor, his shoulders trembling slightly under the weight of his own betrayal. I felt no rage, no urge to scream. Anger is a luxury for those who still have hope. To me, they were merely redundant variables in an equation that was finally being solved.

The 60-Second Negotiation

“45 seconds left,” I said calmly, unstrapping my Cartier watch and placing it on the marble coffee table. “Nam, do you have nothing to say for yourself?”

Nam looked up, his voice cracking. “Lan… you… you were supposed to be in Singapore. I… we can explain everything.”

“Explanations were not part of this one-minute deal,” I interrupted. “She claims you belong to her. Do you confirm this?”

Nam looked at his mistress, then back at me. Cowardice was etched into every line on his face. “I… I love her, Lan. She makes me feel like a man, not just another asset in your financial empire.”

I smiled. A genuine, chilling smile. “Perfect. Ownership confirmed.”

The Mastermind’s Move

As the second hand hit the 60-mark, I pulled out my phone and tapped a single command. “Initiate the transfer.”

The woman arched an eyebrow, mocking me. “What are you doing? Calling your lawyer to cry? Or maybe a group of friends to start a catfight? Don’t degrade yourself further.”

“No,” I replied, my voice steady. “I just executed a total recall of all authorized assets. You see, Nam, you are a capable director, but you forgot one crucial detail: I am the sole guarantor for those ‘private’ loans you took out for your secret crypto-mining firm.”

Nam’s face turned from pale to a ghostly ashen grey.

“You thought I didn’t know about the offshore digital wallet? That $5 million debt is now legally tied to you, and you alone. Since you just admitted to this affair in front of a witness, the ‘fidelity clause’ in our pre-nuptial agreement has been triggered. I am no longer obligated to cover your liabilities. As of one minute ago, you are officially bankrupt.”

I walked closer to the woman, reaching out to adjust the collar of the robe she was wearing. She flinched.

“You wanted him? Congratulations. You’ve just won a man with a mountain of debt, a court summons for credit fraud waiting for him tomorrow morning, and a name that will be blacklisted from every social circle in this city.”

I grabbed the lapel of the silk robe and yanked it firmly, nearly knocking her off balance. “And this robe? It’s worth $2,000. I didn’t give it to you. It’s now evidence for my emotional distress claim.”

The Final Twist

The front door swung open. It wasn’t the police, nor was it private security. A professional camera crew and a group of legal assistants in black suits walked in.

“Meet the production team of ‘The Price of Betrayal’, a high-stakes reality show I’ve been collaborating with for months. This entire scene—from your triumphant smile to Nam’s confession—has been live-streamed to three million viewers.”

I turned to the camera, flashing a radiant, effortless smile. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you take out the trash. Have a wonderful evening.”

I walked out of the house, carrying nothing but my phone. Behind me, the first screams of a crumbling relationship began to echo. The woman was shrieking at Nam as she realized the “prize” she had stolen was nothing more than a hollow, debt-ridden shell.

Part 2: The Silent Executioner (English Translation)

I checked my watch. The first second.

The woman leaned against the kitchen counter, holding a glass of red wine I had personally brought back from France. She was young, sharp-featured but with a cheap edge, and most importantly, she was wearing my hand-embroidered silk robe.

“Your husband is mine,” she repeated, her voice dripping with triumph. “He said he never truly loved someone as cold and clinical as you.”

My husband, Nam, stood behind her. He didn’t look at me. He stared at the floor, his shoulders trembling. I felt no rage, no urge to scream. Anger is for those who still hold onto hope. To me, they were merely redundant variables in an equation that needed solving.

The 60-Second Negotiation

“45 seconds left,” I said, unstrapping my Cartier watch and placing it on the coffee table. “Nam, do you have nothing to say?”

Nam looked up, stammering, “You… you were supposed to be in Singapore. I… we can explain.”

“Explanation isn’t part of this one-minute deal,” I interrupted. “She says you belong to her. Do you admit it?”

Nam looked at his mistress, then at me. Cowardice was etched into his eyes. “I… I love her, Lan. She makes me feel like a man, not just an ornament in your financial empire.”

I smiled. A genuine smile. “Good. Ownership confirmed.”

The Mastermind’s Pivot

As the second hand hit the 60-mark, I pulled out my phone and dialed a sequence. “Start it.”

The woman arched an eyebrow. “What are you doing? Calling your girlfriends for a catfight? Don’t degrade yourself.”

“No,” I replied calmly. “I just executed a total recall of authorized assets. You see, Nam, you’re a decent director, but you forgot who signed the guarantees for those ‘off-the-books’ loans you took for that crypto-mining firm you started behind my back.”

Nam’s face turned from pale to ashen.

“You thought I didn’t know about that digital wallet? That $5 million debt is now legally tied to you personally. And since you just admitted to this affair, the ‘fidelity clause’ in our post-nuptial agreement has been triggered. I am no longer obligated to cover your liabilities.”

I walked closer, leaning into the ear of the woman wearing my robe. “You want him? Congratulations. You’ve just won a man with crushing debt, a court summons for credit fraud tomorrow morning, and a name that will be blacklisted from every elite club in this city.”

I grabbed the lapel of the silk robe she was wearing and yanked it firmly. She stumbled, nearly losing her balance. “And this robe? It’s worth $2,000. I’m not gifting it to you. It will be listed as evidence for emotional damages.”

The Unexpected Twist

The door swung open. It wasn’t thugs, nor was it a security firm. A group of people in black suits entered, carrying cameras and legal folders.

“Meet the production team of ‘Cheaters Unmasked,’ the reality show I signed a contract with three months ago. This entire scene—from the moment you mocked me to Nam’s confession—has been live-streamed on their platform.”

I turned to the camera, flashing a radiant smile. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how we dispose of industrial waste. Have a wonderful evening.”

I walked out of the house, carrying nothing but my phone. Behind me, the screaming began. The woman was shrieking as she realized the “treasure” she had just stolen was, in fact, a black hole of bankruptcy.