The Housewife’s Counterstrike Chapter 08
“She was the one who came to me.” I didn’t even lift my eyelids.
“She was crying so hard she could barely breathe! She said you were using a recording to blackmail her, trying to push her over the edge!” Herman roared, his eyes full of pity and fury—for her.
I didn’t bother arguing. I simply pressed play.
Clara’s shrill, gloating voice filled the living room:
*”…he stopped loving you a long time ago! You’re just his perfect little shield… the moment his ship docks, he comes straight to my bed…”*
When the recording reached *”I don’t have to grovel to that revolting old woman like you do,”* Herman’s face went dark.
When it reached *”He didn’t hesitate to use military channels to smuggle diamonds to me,”* a fine sweat broke out across Herman’s forehead.
“Turn it off! Turn it off!”
I stopped the playback and looked at him coldly. “That’s the woman who understood you.”
Herman collapsed onto the sofa and drove both hands into his hair.
I stopped looking at him. I picked up the suitcase I’d packed long before and headed for the door.
Herman shot to his feet and blocked my path. “Where are you going?!”
“Moving out.”
“This is our home!”
“It won’t be for much longer.”
Herman panicked. His eyes reddened. He grabbed the suitcase.
“Selena! I’ve already agreed! I’ll cut Clara out completely. Every cent I misused, I’ll pay back! What more do you want from me?!”
I wrenched my case out of his grip. “You can’t cut her out, Herman. Because you can’t part with your ambition. And you can’t part with the woman who feeds your vanity.”
The color left his face.
At that moment, his phone rang. Clara’s name lit up the screen.
Herman stared at the display, his fingers trembling. This time, he didn’t answer.
The call went to voicemail. It rang again. He still didn’t answer.
I rolled my suitcase past him toward the door.
Herman scrambled after me, shouting as if trying to prove something.
“Look, Selena! Look! I didn’t take her call! I really am done with her!”
I paused just outside the door and turned to look at him one last time.
“Too late, Herman. Loyalty that comes late is more disgusting than garbage.”
I moved into a high-end hotel near the port.
On the third day of the investigation, the Atlantic Shipping Regulatory Bureau and the Vance family council summoned Herman and me to appear together.
In the solemn hush of the conference room, the response from the Marseille port authority, the arms smuggling manifests, and every last surveillance still of the sign-offs were laid out on the long table.
On the high-definition screen at the front, footage played of Clara, sunglasses on, walking into an underground warehouse to sign for firearms and human cargo.
She signed my name with practiced ease.
When an underling handed her the seal, she laughed prettily and said: *”Herman already told me. His wife is a decoration. Everything goes through me.”*
At this point, a representative from the Vance family council opened another heavy dossier.
“Donna Selena, there is one more violation we require you to personally confirm.”
It was the *spousal refuge allowance* the Vance family paid out annually to the Don’s wife.
Over the past three years, this allowance—totaling several million dollars—had been recorded as fully drawn by *Selena*, and the designated refuge address was none other than Downton Manor, Unit 1203.
I had never once taken shelter there. I had never seen a single cent of that money.
The representative turned his head. His gaze fell on Herman, hawk-sharp and unforgiving.
“Herman Vance. Under the family’s most sacred *Law of Silence and Loyalty*, you have surrendered a Donna’s rights to your mistress; through that mistress you leaked matters of grave family secrecy; you have lost us the chance to secure the Voyager line… You have wounded the honor and dignity of the entire Vance family.”
Herman looked as though he had been struck by lightning. His face went the color of ash.
“No… please, let me explain!” Herman shot to his feet in panic. “I only wanted to give Clara a safe place to live! I never meant to harm the family!”
The representative laughed coldly. “You used spousal refuge funds. Herman, this is a total betrayal of family bloodline and family law.”
The doors opened again. Two tall enforcers in black escorted Clara into the room.
At the sight of all that evidence spread across the table, Clara dropped straight to her knees and burst into loud, wet sobs.
“Herman! Save me! You were the one who told me I could use Selena’s name to charge everything back!”
Herman rounded on her, incandescent with fury. “Shut your mouth, you idiot!”
Clara’s head whipped around. She jabbed a poisonous finger at me. “Selena! You wicked, wicked woman! You’ve ruined Herman, and you’ve ruined me!”
I walked slowly over to her and looked down.
“What ruined the two of you was your own bottomless greed.”
The regulatory head delivered his ruling on the spot:
*Effective immediately: Herman Vance is stripped of every shipping-line command right; all illegally held assets under his name are seized. All illicit gains held by Clara are to be clawed back, and she is placed on a lifetime blacklist and open warrant. All recovered assets are to be turned over to Selena, owner of the Voyager line.*
Clara crumpled to the ground and wailed in raw despair.
Herman—the once-untouchable Godfather—aged a decade in a single instant, and sank into his chair like a corpse.