🔪“reputation protection plan: kill your wife” available exclusively at fuckboy mutual™

fuckboy mutual™:
we’re a family firm

🙃✨🔪

holy fuck.

can i just say?
this shit was absolutely not
on my fucking radar.
like yo—
they atomic fucking bombed
the whole fucking financial firm, over…
$30 of fucking premiums?
couldn’t just—
do the fucking ethical,
legal fucking thing?
naaaaah.
holy. fucking. shit.
like you had to go
all the way to—
looting a baby’s life policy?
BRO—
y’all were literally
this close
to
fucking freedom✨

because like—
prior to the policy audacity?
i was not even remotely aware.
and y’all are like,
lol nah—
watch us be so fucking egregious.

yoooo.
i was absolutely not out here
trying to fucking uncover
a potential✨
full-blown fucking affair—
funded by
my cash advances,
from my
fucking credit card,
fueled by
professional facetimes
right in front of my fucking face,
with institutional cover-ups
and "waspy office bestie" vibes?
using my fucking car
and gas money
to fake a whole-ass job?

nah— that would be literally psychotic. 🔪

(💭 side thought…)

yo, i truly thought they were supervised.
i truly thought this was a legit financial firm.

but nope.
fuckboy mutual™

where they underwrite his marital infidelity
onboarding you to bankroll his entire brokeboi finance era—
while offering you life policies (in your husband’s name)
conveniently mid-fucking murder plot

affair approved.
attempted murder covered.
policies canceled.

bro—
holy fucking shit.
like i’m the liability?

yo.

because why
stop at cheating
when you can go full felony?

and maybe collect on that fucking life policy?

yo
omfg.
because did my dude—
really drive to "those meetings"?
or "step out at 10am?"
for some foul-ass bullshit?
or was this twat just
casually fucking around,
pretending to be a man,
instead of earning
a single. fucking. dollar.
that didn’t come
straight from
his side chick’s fucking venmo?
in the career i funded
my entire fucking pregnancy?

while simultaneously— trying to murder me?

holy. fucking. shit.

bro.
this is bone-chilling.
this is legit
"you-were-supposed-to-fucking-die"
nightmare material.

seriously,
envision this:
you just wanted to be a mom,
bro.
you had just lost
the love of your fucking life,
and his whole fucking child.
so the whole family vibes thing?—
i mean, sure,
i fucking guess?
if you fucking insist, bro.

my dude fully signs up,
fucking volunteers
as goddamn baby daddy—
bro full-on proposes,
hands you an heirloom ring,
changes your fucking name
on his fucking birthday—
and you’re thinking,

"cool,
he’s battling demons,
i get it,
PTSD,
combat vet,
addiction,
we’ll fight through it—
together."

bro—nah.

because like,
fuck,
true crime plot twist:
it’s way darker.
way fucking darker.

you’re full on fucking
carrying his firstborn child,
handing over your fucking car,
your cards,
your cash,
your fucking trust—
closing your businesses,
renting out your condo so it gets trashed,
relocating across the goddamn fucking country—
and meanwhile,
he’s texting with some
tragic,
yellow-toothed,
khaki-wearing,
bridge-troll personality side piece,
with morals straight out of a
dungeon goblin's playbook?

holy fucking shit— 💀 (!!!!!!) 💀

(💭 side thought…)
to be fair,
this man couldn’t
put air
in a fucking tire.
idk why i’m shocked,
he’s a little bitch.
🤷‍♀️💨🚗

but like please—
someone send me
one single correction.
for the love of god.

because—
on my dime?
during my pregnancy?
while i’m home alone,
working seven days a week,
paying all his bills,
cleaning up his dog’s shit,
throwing up from him
literally beating my ass,
posting bruises
he put on my body
on my fucking instagram stories,
while his coworkers
watched in fucking silence?

holy. fucking. shit.

that would be
beyond insidious.
that would be
coordinated.
that would mean
a shit-ton of people knew.
that would be
institutional-level terrifying.

because let’s get real—
i completely talked myself out of this.
i said, "absolutely no real man would ever—"
i thought it was stress,
i made endless excuses,
i believed in his demons,
i forgave his trash mom,
the laughing,
the ER visits,
the fucking humiliation,
the absolute nothingness
of our first married christmas.
i forgave,
and forgave,
because family,
because love,
because my kid deserved better
than fucking broken.

but now?
yoooooo. now it’s different.

was the violence
because he
fucked up so badly,
he needed me silenced?
like forever silenced?

like his sins
fucking erased,
fucking silence?

bro. (!!!!)

like,
he absolutely knew,
if this ever got out—
total reputational annihilation.
and this dude?
lives for image.
and to get caught—
with her?
he would never live it down.
bro 100% understood that.
that’s why he never
left voluntarily. ✨

jesus christ.
but instead of risking getting caught?

…FUCK.

chills, bro.
literal fucking chills.

this shit means
it was
calculated,
sociopathic,
scary-as-fucking-hell,
true crime documentary level fucked up.
bro,
he wasn’t losing control—
he was covering his fucking tracks.

two seconds away
from turning me into
another tragic headline,
where everyone says,
"wow, didn’t see that coming."

but i saw something,
i fucking felt it,
i saw his eyes
when he fucking strangled me,
saw his rage,
saw his panic,
the absolute terror
of being exposed.
i just never imagined
the truth could be
so fucking grotesque.

the scariest part?
i'm begging to be wrong.
i’m sending receipts,
detailed emails,
forwarding the timeline,
screenshots,
timestamps,
pleading with everyone—
family,
colleagues,
an entire financial firm—
to tell me i’m wrong,
to correct me,
to say literally anything—

and what do i get?

absolute fucking silence.

yo.
they won't even say her name.
they won’t mention breach,
won’t say the word conflict,
won’t acknowledge any domestic violence,
no ER report,
nothing—
just deafening fucking silence.
and frantic fucking deflections.

and that silence?
is louder than anything
i could ever fucking scream.

this truly isn't revenge.
i don’t want it to be true.
please,
tell me i’m wrong.

because now,
it’s not a breakup—
with some severe violence,
it’s fucking systemic criminality.
it’s a calculated,
maniacal,
fucking deadly,
real-life nightmare.

so,
anyone thinking
i’m just starting shit?

just mad he's gone?
nah, bro.
i begged that dude to leave.
yo, i didn’t fall in love,
i couldn't—
i just hoped
he was fucking redeemable,
at least enough
to someday be a dad.

god damn.

but this?

this is psychotic levels of dangerous.
it changes absolutely everything.

this means i was a liability.
and none of it was ever an accident.

so whoever
the fuck
is listening:
babe, this isn’t revenge.
this isn’t obsession.
this was an attempted murder.

✨💀✨

🪦✨ fuckboy mutual™: proudly underwriting your attempted murder since q3