My Husband Is a Gary Stu

Xylia lamented, “How could I possibly have such influence over you, to make you do whatever I suggest? We've known each
other for over a decade. Don't you know what kind of person I am?”
“Of course I do—you're a two-faced scoundrel,” Ysabelle said coldly. “You're quick to stab anyone who's doing better than you.
Your kindness and communication were just tools to get close to me, all because Timothy is my cousin. You despise Johanna, so
you constantly badmouth her in front of me, telling me about her parents, trying to make me despise her too. Because you dislike
her, you're afraid that if you take things into your hands, my cousin will find out. So, you manipulated me, urging me to wreck
Johanna's studio.”
Xylia glanced at Timothy, her expression desperate. “Timothy, I promise you, I didn't manipulate Ysabelle into anything. She's
merely afraid of you and is trying to shift the blame onto me.”
“Are you implying that I'm naive compared to Ysabelle? That I'm the gullible one here?” Timothy leaned back, his smile turning
sly.
His attractive eyes held a certain predatory gleam, unsettling Xylia and making the hairs on the back of her neck stand. “After all
these years, you still doubt me and believe Ysabelle?”
“I didn't ask for your opinion. Just keep quiet,” Timothy's expression darkened.
He retrieved his phone and played a recording, revealing the confession of Quincey's assistant regarding Xylia's involvement.
The assistant had confessed to taking money from Xylia and planting the ring to frame Johanna during the recent incident at
Quincey's apartment.
Timothy turned his gaze to Xylia without a hint of amusement. “You were angry with the company for offering the excellent
opportunities that were originally yours to Quincey. Coupled with your animosity toward my wife, who Hugh had supported and
requested to style Quincey, you decided to bribe Quincey's assistant. Like you, the assistant thought that hiding things wasn't a
big deal, tempted by the additional generous reward you offered. So, when my wife visited Quincey, the assistant carried out the
scheme discreetly. “You took your vengeance on both Quincey and my wife. You've played your cards well.”
“I didn't do any of that.” Even in the face of evidence, Xylia continued to feign innocence. “Quincey made her assistant frame me

by hiding the ring due to her dislike for Ms. Joule. Quincey orchestrated the entire incident, and her assistant pinned it on me
because she had a meeting with me.”
“If you believe the assistant framed you, then why don't you report it to the police?” Johanna, who had kept quiet until then,
spoke calmly. “Let the authorities investigate, and we'll see who's telling the truth.”
Johanna's unexpected move caught Xylia off guard, causing her to clench her teeth.
At that moment, a server knocked on the door, entering with several bottles of vodka. Timothy instructed him to open the bottles
and fill the row of empty glasses on the table.
Gesturing toward the drinks, Timothy commented casually, “Start drinking, and keep going until my wife decides whether to
accept your apologies.”
When it became clear that Timothy included both of them in the statement, Ysabelle's heart raced, and she looked at the glasses
on the table apprehensively. “Timothy, Xylia used me to—”
“The shop's vandalism was at your instigation,” Timothy interrupted.
Ysabelle didn't dare to object further; she grabbed a glass of vodka and downed it. The fiery liquid burned her throat like flames,
causing her to wince in discomfort.
Unable to muster the courage for a second glass, she tearfully turned to Johanna and apologized, “Johanna, I was wrong. I
shouldn't have orchestrated the vandalism of your shop. I'm willing to compensate you for the damages, twice over. Can you find
it in your heart to forgive me?”
Johanna didn't even spare her a glance, instead taking a slice of watermelon from the fruit platter and beginning to eat it.
Xylia, who had been standing by, suddenly burst into laughter. “Timothy, you're pathetic. Even if you cling to Johanna and use us
as outlets for your anger, what's the point? Johanna doesn't truly love you. Would you believe she treats the stray cats on the
street better than she treats you?”

Timothy tightened his grip on the glass in his hand, his veins pulsing with tension. “Shut up.”
Xylia mockingly asked, “Can you contribute anything other than telling me to be quiet? Your facial expression is quite unpleasant.
Would you become angry out of embarrassment if I am incorrect?”