My Mil Called Screaming That My Husband Was Dying Of Internal Bleeding. I Rushed Home From A Business Trip To Find Him Getting Married To His Ex. How Do I Destroy Them Without Getting My Hands Dirty?

The Dinner Party

The chandelier in the main dining room glowed golden, reflecting off the row of porcelain plates and silver cutlery that had been meticulously arranged. Amara stood in front of the large mirror in the living room, ensuring her appearance was perfect for the role she was about to play tonight. She wore a long premium satin gown in a deep maroon that fell elegantly, giving an impression of luxury yet modesty. A matching silk pashmina hijab was wrapped stylishly around her head, secured with a small jewel-encrusted brooch on her left shoulder.

Tonight was a “get well soon” party for her husband—an event she orchestrated herself. An event she would use as a stage to publicly humiliate her enemies under the guise of kindness.

One by one, relatives from Preston’s side and a few of their close friends arrived. Amara greeted them with the warmest smile she had ever mustered. The climax was when Eleanor’s car pulled up in front of the house. Preston got out with a still-forced weary gait, while Eleanor walked beside him with a stiff and uncomfortable expression. They were forced to come because Amara had invited the entire extended family; their absence would only raise suspicion.

“Come on, honey, sit here in the main chair. You’re the guest of honor tonight,” Amara greeted him with a cheerful tone, deliberately loud enough for Preston’s aunts and uncles on the sofa to hear. Preston just gave a sour smile and sat down stiffly.

Eleanor tried to take control of the atmosphere. “Amara, Preston really still needs a lot of rest. An event like this seems a bit excessive.”

“Oh, not at all, Eleanor,” Amara countered quickly, adjusting her hijab slightly. “We should be celebrating this miracle. Preston recovered so quickly from the condition you described—vomiting blood and all. It must be because of his two devoted wives… and your incredible dedication, right?”

The sentence was like a subtle slap that silenced Eleanor. Several relatives began to approach, congratulating Preston.

Amidst the low murmur of conversation, Amara stood at the head of the table, tapping a spoon against a crystal glass to get everyone’s attention. The room fell silent.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” Amara began, her voice calm yet commanding. “Tonight is not just about Preston’s recovery, but also about loyalty. In this day and age, it’s hard to find a man who so fiercely protects the honor of his marriage, even when tested by illness. I am so grateful to have a husband who is honest and hides nothing from me.”

Amara glanced at Preston, who was now starting to sweat despite the air conditioning. Eleanor seemed busy stirring her soup, not daring to look at anyone.

“As a token of my gratitude,” Amara continued, “I want to announce something. Since Preston is healthy now, I have arranged for all family assets, from the commercial property to this house, to be managed under a single professional auditing system. This is for our future, to ensure no money is wasted on unclear expenditures. You agree, don’t you, honey?”

Preston choked on his drink. All eyes turned to him. In front of his extended family, who highly valued the image of a harmonious family, he had no choice but to nod slowly.

“Yes, of course, Amara. That’s a great idea.”

“Wonderful,” Amara replied with a victorious smile. “Because I’ve heard so many stories out there about husbands who betray their wives while the wife is out working hard to provide. But I know Preston isn’t a lowlife like that. He knows very well that a secret ceremony or polygamy without the legal wife’s consent is a path to financial and social ruin. Isn’t that right, Uncle?”

Amara directed the question to Preston’s eldest uncle, a respected retired judge. The uncle nodded firmly, launching into a lecture about how despicable a man who would do such a thing is. Preston and Eleanor sat frozen, as if their chairs had turned to hot coals.

The climax occurred when Preston’s phone, which he had placed on the table, vibrated loudly. A name appeared on the screen: Jessica My Love. The phone’s light was glaring in the dimly lit dining room.

Amara, standing closest, calmly picked up the phone before Preston could reach for it. “Oh, a call from Jessica. Honey, who is she? Is this that neighbor from your mom’s house who brought you the herbal tea?” Amara asked with deadly innocence.

The entire room went silent. Preston looked like he had just seen a ghost. Amara held the phone out to Preston with a steady hand.

“Go on, answer it. Don’t keep our esteemed guest waiting. Or would you like me to speak on your behalf?”

Preston snatched the phone roughly and immediately turned it off, his face crimson with a mixture of shame and suppressed rage. Amara just smiled faintly, smoothed her maroon dress, and invited the guests to continue their dinner. She had successfully planted a seed of immense fear in her husband’s heart and shattered Eleanor’s pride in front of her own family. That night, it wasn’t just stomachs that were full; Amara’s thirst for revenge was beginning to be quenched.

The Lobby Showdown

Three days after the tense dinner party, Amara stood in the lobby of her office building in a suit that radiated authority. She wore a sharply tailored blazer in a nude color paired with a modest black pencil skirt. A matching silk pashmina hijab was wrapped in a minimalist style, accentuating her face which no longer showed any trace of sadness. In her hand, she held a folder containing the final draft of the divorce petition that Mr. Evans would file at the courthouse later that afternoon.

However, a disturbance she had anticipated appeared before her. Jessica stood near the lobby entrance, her appearance a far cry from the elegance she displayed on her secret wedding night. Her face was haggard, her eyes swollen, and she was wearing a casual outfit that looked like it had been thrown on in a hurry.

The moment her eyes landed on Amara, Jessica strode forward, her emotions overflowing, ignoring the stares of other employees who were beginning to take notice.

“Amara, we need to talk!” Jessica’s voice was shrill, attracting the attention of the security guard in the corner.

Amara didn’t back down an inch; instead, she calmly adjusted her shoulder bag, her face remaining neutral as if the woman in front of her were just a passing breeze. “If this is about work, please make an appointment with my secretary. If it’s about something else, I don’t believe I have any business with you.”

“Don’t act so high and mighty,” Jessica closed the distance between them until they were only a few feet apart, her breathing heavy. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you? You deliberately locked all of Preston’s access to his money. You know we’re married. Don’t play dumb. Preston said you moved all the money from the joint account. Give it back! It’s Preston’s right too.”

Amara tilted her head slightly, looking at Jessica with feigned pity. “Right? What right are you talking about? Preston is sick, Jessica. That’s what Eleanor told me. And as his legally recognized wife in the eyes of the law and the state, I am obligated to secure our family’s assets so they aren’t misused by parties trying to take advantage of his condition. Why are you the one so panicked about my husband’s money?”

“Because I’m his wife!” Jessica screamed, losing control. People in the lobby started whispering; some even took out their phones to record. “We were married legally in front of an officiant and my family! You’re just the wife he doesn’t want anymore. Preston married me because he loves me, not for your money.”

Amara smiled thinly, a calm yet lethal smile. She reached into her blazer pocket and took out her phone, which had been recording since Jessica first called her name.

“Thank you, Jessica. Your public confession and the lobby’s security camera footage will be very helpful in my legal proceedings. So you’ve just admitted to a marriage ceremony performed without the legal wife’s consent in front of multiple witnesses?”

Jessica’s face instantly went pale. She realized she had walked right into a trap of her own making. Her explosive anger had just provided the exact confession Amara needed to complete the criminal complaint for adultery and illegal bigamy.

“You… you trapped me,” Jessica stammered.

“I didn’t trap anyone. You came to my workplace and caused a scene,” Amara replied, her voice remaining low and elegant. “Oh, and one more thing: if you came here asking for money, I suggest you find a job because as of today, the storefront Preston was using for his office has been shut down and I have the keys. Any assets Preston was using to finance your lifestyle will soon be seized by the court as contested property.”

Jessica collapsed onto a lobby waiting chair, her body limp. Her fear of poverty had just become a reality, hitting her harder than any sense of shame.

Amara smoothed her hijab, which had been slightly tousled by the draft from the automatic doors, and walked past Jessica without a backward glance. She strode to her car with a confident gait. Inside, she immediately sent the audio recording to Mr. Evans. There was no more nausea or tightness in her chest. Amara realized that every reckless move Jessica made and every lie Preston maintained was just more fuel for their own funeral pyre. Now she just had to wait for the right moment to watch the makeshift altar they built in that living room collapse along with the dignity of the people who had betrayed her.