After my husband threw me out of the house after our divorce, I took the old bank card my father had left behind and used it at a branch in the U.S., sending the whole bank lobby into a stir as the staff hurriedly called the manager over, and the words “Look at the name on this account!” revealed a family secret I had never known.

Aniya followed him, crying hysterically, dragging two suitcases full of her designer bags.

He wasn’t just bankrupt on paper. Now he was literally on the street, back at the ground zero he had created for Zelica, on the hot sidewalk in front of the lobby.

The real drama had just begun.

“This is all your fault!” Aniya shrieked, hitting his chest. “You said you were rich. You said you were great. Turns out you’re just a scammer!”

He, who had already lost everything, unloaded his remaining anger on the only target left.

“My fault? Your fault! Who asked for Birkin bags every week? Who asked for vacations in Turks? You made me spend, parasite. Parasite!”

Aniya’s jaw dropped. Their fight was so loud it became a public spectacle. They didn’t realize that across the street, someone was recording with their phone.

“I didn’t sign up for this!” Aniya shrieked. “I’m done.”