The Influencer Wife's Revenge

I was about to give birth, but my husband told me to hold it in so we could go live first. Cradling my heavy, aching belly, I looked at him and asked, "Does it really have to be right now? I think the baby is coming." My husband, Tyler, turned around and barked at the director to start the broadcast immediately. Dizzy, I swayed on my feet and instinctively grabbed his arm for support. Instead of holding me, Tyler snatched a makeup brush and began aggressively patting powder onto my face, muttering, "We're going live in a second! Can't you pay attention to how you look?" The second the red light flipped on, Tyler dragged me toward the camera and shouted with performative enthusiasm: "The twenty-four-hour baby countdown starts right now!" A sudden pop echoed through my body. My water broke, soaking my clothes, and my knees buckled. I collapsed backward. While the crew scrambled in panic to call an ambulance, Tyler leaned closer to the lens, flashing a grin. "Big giveaway for the stream today, guys! Join the live, drop your boy-or-girl guesses in the chat, and win huge prizes!" After a grueling night of labor, I finally gave birth just as dawn broke, soaked in sweat from head to toe. When the nurse wheeled me out of the delivery room, what awaited me wasn't a warm, loving greeting from Tyler. It was his furious roar after losing a mobile game. The cameraman rushed over, nudging Tyler’s arm. "Bro, your wife is out." Tyler blinked blankly, looking up. Realizing where he was, he hurriedly smoothed his hair and straightened his shirt. My throat was parched. I parted my lips, desperate for a sip of water. Tyler ignored me and waved the cameraman over. "Are the levels set? What about the lighting? Where are the props?" I pressed my lips together and tried to gather my remaining strength. Tyler grabbed a bouquet of flowers from the floor, knelt by my gurney, and softened his tone to pure silk. "Babe, you were amazing. Thank you for your sacrifice." I managed a faint, tired smile and reached out to take the flowers. "Cut! The vibe is totally off!" the cameraman yelled, breaking the moment. Tyler ruffled his hair in pure irritation, glaring at me. "Can you look a little more excited? Move around a bit! Stop lying there like a dead log." I exhaled a shaky, ragged breath. "I just pushed out a baby, Tyler. I can barely breathe." Tyler frowned deeply. "If we don’t make it look genuine, how are we supposed to get engagement? Take it from the top!" Powerless to fight back, I was wheeled back into the entryway. I forced another picture-perfect smile onto my face as the camera started rolling again. This time, Tyler placed the flowers neatly beside my pillow, leaned in, and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. "You did so well, babe." I closed my eyes and offered a soft, scripted smile. When no one called cut, Tyler let out a relieved sigh. He turned around, picked up our newborn, and wore the proud expression of a doting father. "A baby girl! She’s our little treasure. She’s going to bring so much good fortune to our family." He leaned down so I could get a better look at her. I raised a trembling hand and gently brushed my fingers against our daughter's soft cheek. Tyler looked between us with warm eyes. "She looks just like you. Especially around the eyes." I looked up at him. I remembered the nights he had pressed his ear against my belly, listening for kicks. He had been just as excited for this baby as I was, hadn't he? At that thought, the bitter cloud over my heart began to lift. Tyler leaned closer, his voice dropping into a tender whisper. "Let's give our baby a meaningful name, okay?" Watching our daughter smack her tiny lips, I smiled weakly. "My brain is fried right now. You pick." Tyler smoothed my hair back, his gaze brimming with affection. "Let's name her Hope. Like meeting that one special soul in the universe, that's how we found her." I touched the baby's tiny hand, nodding eagerly. "Okay. Hope. We'll protect her together." The cameraman gave a quiet clap, signaling the shot was done. Instantly, the sweet illusion shattered. The smile fell from Tyler’s face like a lead weight. With an exasperated groan, he carelessly tossed the baby down onto the mattress beside me. "Seriously? A girl? All the brand deals I lined up were for baby boy gear! You’re totally useless." My heart stopped. I instinctively shielded our daughter with my arm, staring at him in utter disbelief. "You said over and over that you didn't care about the gender!" He cast a look of pure disgust at the newborn. "Hope? You actually bought that garbage the director fed me?" "I named her Hope because I was hoping for a son! How dense can you be?" I froze. It felt like liquid lead had been poured down my throat, rendering me speechless. Every single moment of tenderness in front of the lens was nothing but toxic foam. I glanced down at Tyler’s phone resting on the side table, watching the TikTok comments flood in: [I'm literally crying. Why are all the good husbands taken?] [If my man treated me like this, I'd pop out five kids for him.] [OMG! You guys need to stay together forever!] [This just restored my faith in love.] A bone-chilling numbness slowly swallowed me whole.Under the bright studio ring lights, Tyler gently helped me sit up and used a soft towel to dab my damp hair dry. Right after that, he placed a sponsored blow dryer on the vanity and started styling my hair on camera. Exhausted to my core, I forced myself to play along and showcase the product. By the time the take was over, my stomach was screaming with hunger. The moment I reached for the takeout container on the nightstand, Tyler slapped my hand away. "We haven't shot the food segment yet! What do you think you're doing?" I pulled my hand back silently, waiting for the crew to adjust the softboxes and lenses. Tyler poured some soup into a thermos, waiting for the red recording light before picking up a spoon to feed me. Beaming with rehearsed adoration, he carried the ceramic bowl over to the bed. "Babe, I made your favorite soup. Let me feed you." I glanced at the lens. My professional training kicked in, and I pasted on a warm smile and nodded. He scooped up a spoonful, blew on it with exaggerated care, and brought it to my lips. I swallowed a mouthful. When I looked up, the director was holding up a cue card. Swallowing the rising nausea, I played along, sounding deeply touched. "Tyler, this tastes a little different than usual. Did you change the recipe?" He feigned endless devotion, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "You need to be careful with your diet right now, but I couldn't bear to let you suffer. So I made sure to add a scoop of this amazing recovery powder. It’s perfect for postpartum healing." The camera zoomed in slowly as Tyler spoon-fed me a few more times with infinite patience. The instant the director called wrap, Tyler dropped the bowl onto the table with an audible thud, completely dropping the act. I reached out to finish the soup myself, but our daughter started wailing from the bassinet. At the sound of her crying, undisguised disgust twisted Tyler’s face. "Shut her up! Aren't you supposed to be her mother?" Tears pricked my eyes, but I swallowed the grievance, lifting the baby into my arms to rock her gently. In her frantic fussing, her tiny arm flailed out and knocked the bowl clean off the nightstand. Tyler marched over, slamming the empty bowl down and screaming in my face, "You can't even handle one simple thing! If you stain those sheets, are you going to be the one washing them?" startled by his furious shout, the baby screamed even louder. Between the relentless noise and the crushing humiliation, something inside me snapped. "Did I make this baby alone? Aren't you her father?" Tyler planted his hands on his hips, gesturing wildly at the film crew packing up their gear. "If I don't hustle for content, how the hell are you and your kid going to survive? On fresh air?" I broke down into quiet sobs, rocking the baby against my chest. "Where’s the postpartum doula? You swore you hired one to help me!" Standing by the doorway, our creative director, Simon, adjusted his glasses in deep embarrassment. "Chloe... that doula was just a hired actress. We settled her day rate and she already left." Tyler flipped through his upcoming livestream schedule without looking up. "Why waste thousands on a doula? It's a joke. I'll just have my mom fly in for a couple of weeks." I wiped at my wet cheeks, but the tears wouldn't stop flowing. "You promised me! You swore we’d stay at a luxury recovery retreat and hire full-time help!" Hearing this, Tyler’s expression curdled into pure annoyance. He threw down his papers and stepped right up to my face. "Didn't I already explain it to you? The retreat refused to sponsor us! What, did you want me to give them free promo and clout for nothing?" I couldn't take it anymore. "Clout! Engagement! Clout! That's all you care about!" Enraged, Tyler grabbed the remaining bowl of broth from the counter and splashed it directly onto me. My maternal instincts took over before my brain could process what was happening; I instantly hunched over, shielding my baby from the mess. The lukewarm liquid soaked through my shirt, sticking to my skin. In that quiet, sticky second, my heart went completely cold.Postpartum recovery is a living nightmare: tears running down your face, milk leaking from your chest, and blood draining from your body. No one truly understands unless they've survived it. I sat staring blankly out the floor-to-ceiling window, tears silently tracing my cheeks. Simon, the director, walked over and nervously rubbed his palms together. "Chloe, the payout from that last brand deal finally cleared. Just wanted to let you know... after fees, it came out to fifty grand." I paused, my sleep-deprived brain struggling to process the number. "Tyler told me that contract was only worth thirty thousand." Simon pressed his lips into a tight line, looking away. Seeing his hesitation, suspicion flared within me. "Has Tyler been lying to me about the payout on every single brand deal?" Simon took a quiet step back, pulled out his phone, and handed me the screen. Sure enough, every single invoice had two different figures. I took a long, steadying breath, fighting down the burning rage in my chest. Simon took the opportunity to swipe to another photo in his camera roll, pointing at a designer handbag. "Also... Tyler hasn't reimbursed me for buying this bag on his behalf yet." My eyes widened. It was a limited-edition European luxury bag, nearly impossible to find locally. I had seen that exact bag on the shoulder of one of our female studio interns. No wonder she had looked terrified when I asked her where she got it. I looked down at the plain silver bracelet on my wrist. The gift he gave me for pushing out his child wasn't worth a fraction of what he spent spoiling another woman. Handing the phone back, I gritted my teeth. "Did you come over here just to tell me this?" Simon pocketed his phone and picked up a throw blanket, gently draping it over my shoulders. "Yes. You have a right to know the truth." I wrapped the blanket around myself and met his gaze. "What are you getting at, Simon?" Dropping his usual meek and timid demeanor, Simon offered a sharp, calculating smirk. "Chloe... do you want to take Tyler down with me?" I blinked, caught off guard. Simon placed a finger against his lips and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Go check the nursery right now. You'll see what I mean." Panic seized me at the mention of my baby. I sprang to my feet and rushed toward the nursery. The moment I reached the cracked door, voices drifted out. The cameraman sounded nervous and hesitant. "Tyler, man... are you sure about this?" Tyler’s voice was as arrogant and dismissive as ever. "What's the big deal? She won't stop screaming. How are we supposed to get the shot?" There was a tense pause before the cameraman asked, "Giving a newborn sleeping drops... isn't that dangerous?" My brain short-circuited. The words shattered into pieces and violently reassembled in my mind. My body moved before I could even think. I kicked the door open. Tyler was standing there holding a dropper filled with liquid medicine. Shocked by my sudden entrance, he instinctively shoved his hands behind his back. "Chloe? What are you doing in here?" I lunged forward, snatching my wailing baby from the crib and clutching her tightly to my chest. My eyes blazed through fresh tears. "She’s barely a few weeks old, Tyler! You were going to drug your own daughter with sedatives?" "Are you even human?" The cameraman backed out of the room awkwardly, eyes glued to the floor, terrified to say a single word. Tyler tossed the dropper onto the dresser, sneering. "I was just trying to get her to sleep so we could film the promo clip." "I measured the dosage carefully. It’s harmless. Honestly, have you noticed how insane your temper has been since you popped that kid out?" I couldn't believe he was trying to gaslight me. A bitter, cold laugh escaped my throat as I whipped Simon's printed invoices out of my pocket and slammed them against his chest. "Who are you really working for, Tyler? The money you spent on me and our baby isn't even half of what you dropped on that intern's designer bag!" Tyler spread his arms wide, a picture of smug indifference. "So what? What are you gonna do about it?" A freezing chill ran down my spine. A quote I had read online long ago suddenly flashed through my mind: Men like that only keep up the act until the baby is born. Waves of fury and betrayal battered against my skull. Remembering Simon’s offer, the final hesitation in my heart vanished. I was going to repay every single debt with my own hands.