My Husband Is a Gary Stu

Timothy gripped her wrist, a displeased furrow creasing his brow. “If you can't manage to find a taxi, step outside and attempt to
hail one. Why should I be the one to offer you a ride?”
“But I'm your girlfriend—” Xylia began, faltering under the weight of the man's somber expression. She swiftly corrected herself,
“Ex-girlfriend. Given our previous connection, you should at least see me off.”
“If you were to pass away, I'd pay homage to our history by procuring a golden coffin for you,” Timothy retorted.
Xylia's complexion paled in response to the man's derisive words. She was on the verge of responding when Timothy's voice
turned icy, “I've already made it clear to you—I don't want to see you again. Did you treat my words as mere whispers in the
wind?”
Recognizing the genuine anger in the man's demeanor, Xylia swiftly interjected, “I have something to tell you, and it's about your
wife.”
Upon hearing this, Timothy narrowed his eyes. “Did you go to see her?”
“I wouldn't dare! A reporter actually witnessed your wife shopping with a senior executive from Ingenuity Entertainment in the
store,” Xylia explained, producing her phone and displaying the photo to Timothy.
The photos were captured in high definition, providing a clear depiction of the two individuals featured in them.
Not only did Johanna assist in the man's attire selection, but she also unfurled the suit jacket for him and adjusted his collar.
Their proximity and actions exhibited an intimate connection. The final image captured Johanna standing on her tiptoes,
enveloping the man in an embrace, seemingly in a kiss.
Upon laying eyes on the photo, a sharp pang jolted at the corner of Timothy's eyes. Suddenly, he swatted Xylia's phone out of
her hand.
Timothy gripped her wrist, a displeased furrow creasing his brow. “If you can't manage to find a taxi, step outside and attempt to
hail one. Why should I be the one to offer you a ride?”

Bending down to retrieve her phone, Xylia managed to discreetly observe Timothy's stern countenance. Inwardly, she
congratulated herself on the efficacy of the photos she had acquired.
Addressing Timothy, Xylia began, “The man captured in the photograph is the recently appointed general manager of Ingenuity
Entertainment, responsible for the artist department. This position has attracted considerable attention from journalists. The
reporter who snapped the picture happens to be a close friend of mine. My initial intention was to obtain some juicy information
from him, but I never anticipated the subject of the gossip to be Mrs. Jensen.”
Timothy stood in contemplation for a significant duration before finally stating, “Tell him to dispose of the negatives.”
“The media has been unrelenting in their pursuit of information about Mr. Foxx from Ingenuity Entertainment. Having stumbled
upon this revelation, they won't simply overlook it,” Xylia murmured. “Besides, I don't have the means to convince them
otherwise.”
Timothy requested his secretary for a checkbook, and after writing a check, he handed it over to Xylia. Her eyes lit up with a
noticeable intensity upon glimpsing the amount.
While Xylia accepted the check, Timothy's gaze bore a frigid intensity. “Should I ever encounter these photos online, rest
assured, not only will that journalist lose their job, but you will as well,” he declared with icy resolve.
“I understand,” Xylia said, accepting the check.
She cast a sidelong glance at Timothy and nonchalantly commented, “Even if Mrs. Jensen and Mr. Foxx are friends, don't you
think they're standing a tad too close? It almost appears as if they're...”
“Timothy, please don't consider me overly chatty, but I genuinely loved you, genuinely cared, which compels me to say certain
things,” Xylia expressed. “On that day at the mall when I ran into you and Mrs. Jensen, I noticed her indifference toward you. You
attempted to hold her hand, yet she didn't reciprocate. You're wealthy and handsome. We all perceive you as thoughtful, tender,
and empathetic toward your female companions. You're proud, so why should you undermine yourself in her presence?”
Timothy halted his movement toward entering the car, pivoted to face her, and inquired, “Do I need you to lecture me?”

“I feel for you,” Xylia murmured, her red lips forming a pout. “She doesn't love you, yet she flirts with other men. Doesn't it hurt to
endure this?”
“I know my wife better than you do.” Timothy's lips curved into a frigid, sardonic smile. “Do you think I can't tell that the kissing
photo was taken from a misleading angle? I bought all the negatives because my wife wishes to maintain her privacy. She also
doesn't desire to be fodder for online entertainment due to someone else's actions.”
Xylia clenched her teeth and retorted, “Even if the photo was shot from a misleading angle, the reality remains that she's married
and embracing other men.”
As her words flowed, she advanced a step closer to Timothy. “Tim, if it's love you're after, I can give it to you. I've been thinking
about you all these years. Can we get back together?”
“Cease the coquettish behavior. It's repulsive,” Timothy retorted, his expression contorting in distaste the moment she addressed
him as “Tim.”