《Disloyal Scumbag, Get Out!》

Pregnant and clutching my test report, I was on my way to find Logan Brooks when I encountered a landslide.

The car was buried under rubble for two days before my phone finally received a signal. I weakly called Logan for help.

His ex-girlfriend Rebecca Amore answered the phone, "Logan's busy. Who's this?"

Seeing no response, she went to ask Logan, "Do you know this number?"

Logan's cold voice came through the receiver.

"No."

I raised my phone in confusion.

The next moment, a deafening noise from above as giant rocks rolled down, engulfing me in darkness……

Chapter 1

My husband was keeping a mistress downstairs.

In order to facilitate his affair, my husband kept his mistress downstairs.

He didn't know that I was adopted by a real estate tycoon, and now the entire apartment belongs to me!

——

I received a complaint from a neighbor in the middle of the night: [Little housekeeper, the couple in opposite 502 is noisy every night. My child will take the college entrance examination next month, and he can't study because of the noise every day. Can you find a way to fix it? ]

I quickly replied: [Received! Processed immediately! ]

A week ago, as an orphan, I finally found my biological father.

My father is a real estate tycoon. The apartment that my husband and I rented happens to be his asset, so he simply gave me the entire building.

I simply quit my job and focused on collecting rent at home.

I also created a tenant group using a secondary WhatsApp account and accepted feedback from tenants as a housekeeper.

I estimate that the older sister of 501 couldn't bear it anymore, so she came to me for help in the middle of the night.

Looking more closely, I live in 602, and 502 is right downstairs from my house.

I have some impression of the tenants of 502, and I was particularly impressed by several encounters we had in the elevator.

I still remember this woman in her early twenties, full of dust and charm, with a seductive appearance. Her one-foot-eight waist twisted like a water snake.

Her screams were indeed quite loud, and I could hear them several times every night from upstairs.

I found her WhatsApp in the owners' group and sent her a friend request.

After she passed, I sent her a subtle reminder: [Dear, we have received feedback that the noise in your room every night affects other people's normal lives. I hope you can lower the volume a little bit~]

She quickly sent me a voice message. When I opened it, I was so scared that my hands started shaking. The voice was so unbearable!

The message was quickly withdrawn, and she sent another sweet voice message: "Listen, my home is very quiet."

I placed the speaker of my phone on the floor, recorded a clip of their duet symphony and sent it to them.

I edited the text again: [Dear, this is the feedback from your upstairs neighbor. I confirmed that the sound is indeed coming from your house~]

The sound of knocking on the bed board downstairs instantly subsided.

I lay on the floor and listened for a long time. After confirming that the downstairs had become completely quiet, I told 501 with satisfaction that the problem had been resolved.

As a result, less than half a minute later, the woman downstairs started shouting again in a pinched voice, as if she did it on purpose.

The floor beneath my feet was vibrating.

My phone vibrated as well. I clicked on it and heard the woman's breathing and the crashing sounds downstairs:

"I can't help it. It's all my boyfriend's fault for being so bold and powerful. Why don't you talk to him~"

When I saw the WeChat she recommended, I couldn't laugh anymore.

I am very familiar with WhatsApp.

Because the note I gave him in my main account was: [Dear husband].

Chapter 2

A week ago, my husband Lance told me that the company had sent him abroad and that he might not be able to come back for one or two months.

I was reluctantly saying goodbye to him just a second ago.

In the next second, there was only the joy of my dad giving me a building.

Suddenly, I remembered that I had been busy collecting rent and counting money recently.

It seems like I haven't contacted Lance for a long time.

I logged on to my main WhatsApp account and the last message I saw was from last week when I asked him if he had landed safely.

Lance did not reply and did not send me any more messages.

On inspection, last week was the day when she moved into 502.

Is it true that my husband has a mistress downstairs?

The doubts in my mind grew bigger and bigger. When I heard the two people downstairs fighting more and more fiercely, my heart trembled and I sent Lance a video invitation.

The call didn't even ring twice before he hung up.

This guy has become so powerful that he dares to hang up on me?

I started a continuous phone bombardment.

The call was hung up until a tone came from the receiver saying, "The user you are calling has turned off the phone."

I sat on the cold floor, listening in confusion to the joyful sounds downstairs.

After a long time, the noise gradually subsided.

Lance finally called back.

I tried to stand up, but my numb legs made me fall to the ground again.

Lance's face on the screen still had a blush on it.

He wiped the sweat off his chest and said, "Dear, I was just working out, so I didn't answer the phone."

"Well, when will you be back?"

There is no emotion in my voice.

The moment the call was connected, I confirmed that he was at 502.

He is the leading actor in the "symphony" performed by the Snake Monster every night!

Now, I know the layout of every household.

With just one glance, I can recognize the unique bay window design of 502.

Lance didn't notice that something was wrong with me. Instead, he smirked: "Dear, do you miss me? After our leader approves my leave, I will try to stay at home with you for a few more days."

It seems that he plans to live outside for a long time.

In the five years we've been married, he and I have endured all kinds of hardships, from guerrilla warfare with urban management in the summer to living in a windowless basement in the winter.

I am still waiting for him to come back, to start a new life together, and to live in a big, bright and clean house that belongs to me.

But he cheated on me and kept a mistress downstairs from me.

Chapter 3

The next day at noon, I was awakened by the sound of someone banging on the door.

I didn't sleep well all night because of Joshua's cheating, and now my sweet dream was disturbed again. I opened the door with anger.

I saw the Snake Monster Lela twisting her slender waist, walking into my house with a swagger, and looking around.

Those who don't know would think that she is the owner of this house.

I stopped her and asked, "What are you doing in my house?"

Lela didn't say anything. She was wearing high heels and an exquisite cheongsam wrapped around her curvy body. She raised her chin towards me as if showing off.

In contrast, I had messy hair, wore wrinkled pajamas, and slippers, and was full of resentment due to lack of sleep, looking like an abandoned woman.

Seeing Lela showing off her domineering attitude, I became even angrier.

I pressed her shoulders with both hands and pushed her out.

Lela stumbled and fell backward against the wall.

She quickly adjusted her posture, raised her hips and chest, rubbed her toes against my calves, and swept her wavy hair across my face with her fingers, saying charmingly:

"I heard that you reported that the noise in my house was too loud last night. Is it because your husband is not at home? Are you jealous of other people's harmony?"

I remembered that yesterday, in order to prevent my identity from being exposed, I sent her an audio clip I recorded at home using my housekeeper account.

I guess she had a misunderstanding.

I was too lazy to explain to her and just told her to leave.

"I'm reporting my own business, what the hell is that to you? Why are you looking for a sense of existence here?"

"Sister, you are too serious. I heard that although you are married, you are still a widow at home every day. I was afraid that you couldn't even have a hot meal, so I specially sent you the braised pork my boyfriend made for me."

I looked down and found that Lela was holding steak in her hand. The familiar aroma rushed to my nose, bringing back memories of the past.

When we had no money in the past, Lance and I often couldn't even afford to eat, let alone meat, eggs and other non-vegetarian dishes.

Later, he found a hard job on a construction site, earning only 200 dollars for working 12 hours a day.

After the project was completed, he stuffed 20,000 dollars under my pillow and cooked steak belly for me.

From then on, the pork belly, which seemed ordinary to others, became our tacit agreement when celebrating good things happening.

Now, Lance's craftsmanship was praised by other women. It becomes a tool to show off and humiliate me.

I have mixed feelings.

Coincidentally, my father's assistant brought me a customized lunch.

Lela glanced at him with disdain, then pinched her nose artificially and said with a look of disgust: "Why do you eat this kind of nutritious and rubbish takeout every day? No wonder..."

She was halfway through her words when she began to look me up and down from head to toe. Her eyes seemed to be saying, no wonder you have such a bad figure...

Before I could say anything, my father's assistant spoke up for me:

"Where did you come from, bitch? You haven't seen the world yet, so keep quiet. Takeout? This is the lunch prepared by the top Michelin chef that my president specially ordered for Miss. Many people can't get it even if they spend money on it."

Lela thought the assistant was talking nonsense, and couldn't suppress the sarcasm on her face: "What Michelin chef? I think it's just a few dollars of pre-made food from Temu app? And she is the president's daughter. Which CEO's daughter is renting a house to live in?"

The assistant looked at Lela, seeming to be hesitant to speak.

She was still showing off that the braised pork that Joshua made for her was fragrant and healthy. Her smug face seemed to be saying: She has a man who loves her, but I don't, and it is my husband who loves her.

Is there still any reason for a mistress to show off in front of the hostess?

I snatched the braised pork from her hand and poured it from her head to her feet. The thick soup ruined her delicate makeup and stained her gorgeous cheongsam.

Lela smoothed her tangled hair and ran downstairs crying.

He also left a harsh remark: "Just wait for me!"

I guess she was a mistress who couldn't fight against the hostess, so she went back to Lance to complain.

Chapter 4

I have to sigh. Women's intuition is so accurate.

Before dark, Lance, who had not been heard from for a week, returned home.

I don't know whether he thought I was blind, deaf, or had a blocked nose, or whether he was just too arrogant and confident.

His neck was covered with undisguised kiss marks of various sizes, which were obviously the result of several rounds of fierce fighting.

She exuded a unique feminine scent, exactly the same as the Lela had sprayed in the morning.

They say that a short absence makes the heart grow fonder.

But with a new love, the old love becomes mosquito blood on the wall.

As soon as Joshua got home, he started finding fault, and somehow ended up talking about my work again.

"I heard you resigned?"

In order to give him a surprise, I didn't tell him that I resigned.

I don't know where he heard it, but the answer is obvious.

I felt sad and smiled bitterly, "Yes, now I have no job and no income. I don't know who you give all the money you earn to. I live by collecting rent at home every day."

Lance became furious when his secret was exposed.

He waved his hand and the exquisite food on the table was scattered all over the floor.

"Lora, why are you being so sarcastic? Aren't you just implying that I didn't give you any money? You don't collect rent at all, just pay the rent for this house first."

Two thousand dollars fell at my feet.

I squatted on the ground and picked up one by one, but I couldn't hold back my tears in the end, and they fell like beads from a broken string.

Through tearful eyes, I saw the mess on the ground and Lance's face full of indifference and impatience.

At that moment, I was completely heartbroken.

"Lance, if you smash plates when you get home today, will you beat your wife the day after tomorrow?"

I paused and finally said calmly what I had been holding back for a long time: "I see that you don't want to live a good life anymore, let's get a divorce."

"Divorce? Lora, I've been supporting you for so many years, give me back the money first! I finally get to go home, don't keep picking on me."

After saying that, he slammed the door and left.

I don't think I was the one looking for trouble. He came back to find a reason to vent Lela's anger.

Now that he's finished venting anger, he's ready to go find her again.

You also want a red flag flying at home and colorful flags fluttering outside. Lance, it's not as wonderful as this even in dreams!

The volume downstairs tonight is unprecedentedly high, mixed with Lance's low growl. Is this an obvious challenge to me?

I couldn't stand it anymore, so I used my secondary WeChat to remind Lela.

She was just getting started when she replied to me angrily: [The house is not yours, what do I do in my own room? Is it your business? ]

I smiled. This house really belongs to me.

Lela, you are a disgraceful mistress.

Lance, you are a fickle person.

Now, I have plenty of means to make you two dogs suffer a fate worse than death.

This game has just begun！

[Super short novel, the follow-up will be more exciting! Please download our APP to read more! ]