My Wife Orchestrated My Family’s Downfall

After two years abroad, I came home to find eight handsome young men lounging in my house.

Ira looked perfectly composed. “They’re just business contacts,” she said lightly. “Social obligations. Nothing more. Since you’re back, I’ll send them away.”

And she did—one by one, I watched them leave.

The last to go was Devin Duncan. Before stepping out, he deliberately shattered my mother’s portrait. I slapped him without hesitation and sent him back to the place he’d come from—Night.

That night, Ira stayed up working in the study. The next morning, she was unusually gentle with me.