I married Micah for love, not for the legacy his family carried. But Victor—my father-in-law—never saw me as anything more than a gold-digger with a smile too polished to be sincere. From the moment I entered their world of crystal glasses and linen napkins, he treated me like an outsider. Cold glances. Hollow gestures. Polite cruelty.
Then came the dinner that changed everything.
It was one of those formal family gatherings at their estate. The air smelled of roasted lamb and tension. A harmless joke about my gym routine turned venomous when Victor, swirling his wine with theatrical disdain, accused me of having an affair. In front of everyone. His words sliced through the room like broken glass. Micah stood up for me, but the damage was done. I left humiliated, heart pounding, unsure how to face the family again.
But karma doesn’t always wait patiently.
Days later, Victor’s pristine reputation began to unravel. A whistleblower from his company exposed years of financial misconduct. The media swarmed. His empire cracked. And the man who once accused me of betrayal was now the face of scandal.
Micah and I watched it unfold—not with glee, but with quiet vindication. I never had to raise my voice. Karma did the talking.
