Blurb：
Keith thought his mission was accomplished. He thought his wife Mona was just a step in his cold, calculated plan for freedom, a plan he sought advice on to leave her with nothing. But when Mona discovers the burner phone and the chilling blueprint for her destruction involving their son Cameron and a bogus investment scheme like AuraStone, everything changes. Now, forced to play the part of the unsuspecting wife while Keith drains their family accounts with fake concern, Mona must use her own secret weapon—her food blog—to build an escape route and turn the tables. In this gripping psychological thriller of betrayal and revenge, who will truly be left with nothing?Content：
§01The burner phone felt cold in my hand, a slick, impersonal rectangle of black plastic.
It didn't belong here, tucked away in the dark, oily space behind the spare tire in our garage.
It didn't belong to Keith.
My Keith, the man who curated his digital life with the precision of a museum director, wouldn't be caught dead with a cheap, untraceable piece of junk like this.
My fingers, trembling, swiped it open.
There was no password.
Of course not.
Passwords leave a trail.
Only one item on the screen: a draft, saved in a simple notes app.
My breath hitched.
"Seeking advice," it began.
The words swam before my eyes, each one a small, sharp betrayal.
"How to leave my wife with nothing, but still make sure my son takes care of me in my old age? The wife is a good person, no affairs, but the kid is almost grown. The mission is accomplished. I feel suffocated. I want my freedom."
Bile rose in my throat, hot and acidic.
The mission.
Was that what I was?
What Cameron was?
A mission.
Completed.
My gaze drifted to the single "like" on the post's only substantive comment.
"Find someone to trick your mother into a bogus investment scheme, preferably with an acquaintance you trust. Drain the family accounts. Then, frame it as a noble act to protect your wife from the debt and divorce her. Not only will she be grateful, she'll help you raise the kid and look after your mom. In a few years, the kid will be old enough to provide for you. You walk away with the cash and live your life."
A wave of nausea so profound washed over me that I had to brace myself against the dusty shelves.
This wasn't just a fantasy.
It was a blueprint.
A cold, meticulously crafted plan for my destruction.
His footsteps on the stairs.
Each one a hammer blow against my heart.
I had ten seconds to erase myself.
§02
The next morning, the air in our kitchen was thick with a forced cheerfulness.
Keith kissed my cheek as he grabbed his coffee, his lips cool against my skin.
"Morning, Mona," he said, his voice the same warm baritone that had once been the soundtrack to my life.
Now, it sounded like a recording.
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