Chapter 1

My abusive husband jumped off the balcony.

Just thirty minutes ago, he was standing over me with a hammer, ready to smash my skull in.

Now, he was lying in a broken heap three stories below.

My mother-in-law shrieked that I was a curse, a plague on their family. If only her son had divorced me and married some rich heiress.

But only I knew the truth.

After my rebirth, I was bound to a system called "Empty Promises Come True." It punishes anyone who makes a promise they don’t intend to keep.

1

My mother-in-law, clutching a bundle of green onions, walked in just in time to see her son plummet from the balcony.

"Oh, dear God, my son!"

THUD. A sickening crack, followed by a spray of crimson.

She collapsed to the floor, shaking like a leaf.

Meanwhile, I was leaning against the balcony railing, sipping a cup of Earl Grey. It tasted a bit stale.

An hour and a half ago, my short-tempered, abusive husband, Damian, had been threatening to cave my head in with a hammer. Now, he was a broken doll splayed on the concrete below.

I owed it all to the "Empty Promises Come True" system I’d acquired upon my rebirth. Anyone who made me a false promise would be forced to live out its consequences.

When my mother-in-law finally managed to lift her head, she saw me smiling and waving.

She pointed a trembling, accusatory finger at me and started screaming to the gathering crowd. "It was her! She pushed my son!"

A moment later, the apartment door was kicked open. My mother-in-law, gasping for breath, her beady eyes burning with hatred, lunged for my throat.

I sidestepped, and she stumbled, falling in a comical heap on the floor.

"Are you alright, Mom?" I asked sweetly. "I know we haven't had steak in a while, but you don't have to be so dramatic."

Clutching her back, she practically spat her words at me. "You vicious, evil woman! You pushed my son off the balcony! I'm calling the police!"

I crouched down and showed her the photos on my phone—a gallery of my injuries, evidence from the county medical examiner. In the pictures, my eye was swollen shut, a grotesque shade of purple. One side of my face was a bloated, discolored mess from subcutaneous bleeding.

"God is my witness, Damian jumped of his own accord," I said, my voice calm. "Besides, if the police see these photos, your son is the one who will be going to prison, don't you think?" I pointed to the security camera on the corner of the building. "It's all on tape."

I remembered the last time Damian had beaten me. He’d knelt before me, begging for forgiveness, his voice thick with fake remorse. He’d sworn on his life it would never happen again.

If he ever laid a hand on me again, he’d said, he would jump off the balcony.

Well, he said it, not me.

2

My mother-in-law’s eyes were practically shooting sparks, but she was powerless. In the end, she scurried off to the hospital, defeated.

Damian had landed a big contract today and had been celebrating. He was in a good mood when he got home. The trouble started when I discovered the private online group he’d created: "300 Ways to Tame Your Wife."

In my past life, when he’d come home that day, I’d seen the exhaustion on his face and handed him a warm cup of herbal tea.

"You must be exhausted, honey. Here, drink this."

He’d snatched it, downed it in one gulp, and then looked me up and down with disdain. "My boss's secretary is a hell of a lot prettier than you. Look at you, all washed up."

He took a shower, leaving his phone on the table. As I was setting dinner on the table, the screen lit up.

A message from the group popped up, addressing him by name: Hey Damian, you gotta tell us more about how you beat your wife into submission. Share the wisdom, bro.

The hand I was using to wipe sweat from my brow froze. I had a sick feeling I knew who they were talking about. I glanced toward the bedroom. Damian was fast asleep, snoring loudly.

Quietly, I picked up his phone. What I saw made the blood drain from my face.

In this group of over 500 men, there were dozens of pictures of me sleeping. Most of them had been taken right after he’d beaten me, while I was unconscious. There were even a few where my nightgown was hiked up to my thighs, my body exposed.

3

He was a mentor in this disgusting group, a guru of domestic abuse, sharing his "wisdom" with pride.

Damian: Dudes, when you're picking a wife, find one with no family, who's ugly and weak-willed. Otherwise, it's nothing but trouble.

SunnyBoy: I feel you, man. I slapped my old lady once, and her parents came and raised hell at my office for a month.

Damian: Also, you gotta soothe them right after. Make a lot of empty promises. You don't want to scare them off, then you've got no one to play with. ;)

Big_Z: Bro, I gotta thank you. Your method works like a charm. For the first time yesterday, I felt like a real man. Hahahaha.

Damian: Don't worry, more tips to come. A well-trained wife makes for a happy life. (smirk/smirk)

SunnyBoy: