Stole My Snacks, Lost His Pride

"Scram, your worthless scum!" Jake bellowed. "I bet you sniffed out Monica's success and cash. Figured you could mooch off her."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Her success and cash? Every bit of it traces back to me. Ask her."

The spectators erupted in chuckles.

"Give it a rest! Ms. Bowman is an Ivy League whiz, steering this whole ship. She recruited Mr. Finley and spearheaded the national AI initiative."

"Do you even grasp what an elite graduate means? Our research focus? That cheapo watch on your arm is probably a bargain bin from Amazon, right? Ms. Bowman gifted Mr. Finley a Rolex."

I glanced at my wrist. The watch was Monica's present for our first anniversary. I'd cherished its sentiment, despite its modesty.

Now Jake's flashy Rolex glared at me.

He flaunted it. "Bet you've never seen luxury, delivery boy. Stuck slinging bouquets for chump change."

Their tag-team mockery unfolded like a scripted farce, each line amplifying the ridicule.

"I don't recall seeing you at the national lab," I countered.

Three years ago, I'd groveled to my father for a billion dollars to settle gambling debts for Monica's brother, freeing her from her family's grip.

Post-marriage, I'd integrated her into my institute to bolster her prestige, even handing over management to let her shine.

"Monica with you? Delusional!" Jake scoffed. "Claiming national lab creds? Hilarious! Just dial 911 and cart this loon off."

Ignoring the jeers, I pressed Monica. "Are you sure he is your legally wedded husband? Who owns this institute? You know the answer better than anyone else. Even if you're the manager, I can boot you out anytime."

Before she could respond, Jake inserted himself like a human shield. "Who are you to threaten her here? Our elite team reports to her, and they've snagged global awards."

Monica fidgeted silently, twisting fabric between her fingers. She'd conveniently forgotten one fact. I'd headhunted that team with premium salaries.

They were my dad's former students, brought in to guide her and pad her resume with prestige projects.

In my absence, they had bombarded me with complaints of Monica dismissing their expertise and dragging unqualified outsiders into sensitive areas.

I'd pleaded with them to hang on, promising to set things right upon my return.

Yet Monica strutted around like she owned the place, oblivious to the strings I'd pulled.

"Pipe-dreaming fool! Hit the bricks! No shot I'd stoop to your level!" she said.

I smirked, unfazed. "By all means, fetch the paperwork and see whose signature seals it."

"Total crap!" Jake bellowed, charging like a bull. His hands clawed for my throat. "You sneaky rat! If you don't bounce, prepare for the pain! Hold him, folks. I'm filming this and posting it online."