the kind of bitch men weaponize to kill their wives. 💍🤰🔫

✶ case study:
scary-levels of delusion-induced fiduciary collapse

🕯️

subject:
early 30s,
female,
known proximity to
trust fund / columbia / low-grade sorority energy.
presentation: vanilla-af. privately volatile.
diagnosis: chronic boundary deficiency
with high narcissistic co-dependency load.
comorbid with career-induced god complex
and obsessed side-chick martyr syndrome.

—

✶ presenting issue:

what level of clinical psychosis
does it take
to knowingly “defraud”
a pregnant,
married,
financially supporting wife
out of her own goddamn financial policies
while actively funding and emotionally servicing
her unemployed, combat vet + legal husband
under the table?

and yes—
“alleged.”
in the same way “alleged” applies
when someone’s holding a bloody knife 🔪
and whispering your child’s name.

—

✶ facts in evidence:

she was not a stranger.
she was not misled.
she was a licensed fiduciary.
she was onboarded alongside my husband.
she met me. knew me. knew i was in my third trimester.
knew he was living in my condo,
driving my car, eating on my fucking dime,
sleeping in my bed,
and financially consuming me while she fed him extra—
off the fucking books.

—

✶ let’s talk conduct, shall we?

this woman didn’t just violate ethics.
she deep-throated the concept of professionalism
and burped up an entire fraudulent paper trail.

😘💳🫥

and not once.
not accidentally.
but repeatedly.
while knowing exactly what the fuck she was doing.

signed me up as a “client”
during my medical crisis.
sent paperwork while i was hospitalized for birth.
sent more while i was still stitched up.
never disclosed the conflict.
and then pretended she never knew me.

ma’am.
you HELD MY CHILD.
you bought shit for my husband—from MY baby registry.
you coordinated everything through my (!!!!) legal fucking husband—
then kept stalking me after you left the firm
because you couldn’t goddamn “disengage.”

explain that pathology to me without using the word; fucking obsessed.

—

✶ legal framework for the uninitiated:

fiduciary duty breached? ✅
informed consent? not present.
conflict of interest disclosures? ❌
client deception for commission? likely.
post-separation stalking of a protected party? well documented.
retaliation after protected disclosures? ongoing.

and yes, i have the timestamps.
and the screenshots.
and the emails.
and the story views.
and the fucking pattern.

let me be so clear:
i don’t need to prove they fucked.
i only need to prove that
she breached, concealed, and profited.

fucking spoiler: i already did.

—

✶ post-fraud behavior: escalation, not remorse

rather than disappear,
she made a career exit and doubled down on digital voyeurism.
used her real name. her real face.
no burner, no fucking shame. just open, unhinged obsession.
like she wanted me to see.
like stalking was a part of the ritual.

👰💀🫶

that’s the part that keeps me up.

(because, what the actual fuck?)

that’s the part that screams:
this wasn’t just professional misconduct.
this wasn’t just goddamn personal betrayal.

this was fucking psychological warfare.
a woman with wealth, access,
and too much fucking time
chose to self-immolate her future
to chase a married man with a felony bond
and a newborn he refused to feed.

and for what?
ego?
victory?
my life?

🤝📉⚰️

—

✶ questions that still fucking burn:

is she still in contact with him?
did she keep funding him post-fraud?
was the entire policy structure built as a cover-up?
did she think she’d replace me?
does she know what liability looks like under fucking oath?

did she not know who the fuck i am?

(babe, he should have filled you the fuck in)

—

✶ closing statement:

this isn’t just about some tragic awkward office affair.
this is about weaponized proximity, concealed conflicts, and corporate cowardice.
this is what it looks like
when a woman with a license
plays god with someone else’s survival.

and let me tell you right now:
the lawsuit is the merciful part.

what comes next
is the public archive.
the metadata.
the regulatory inquiries.
the inner circle whisper of fucking receipts.
the timeline of every single thing you did.

so when i say you’re dangerous,
i don’t mean sexy.
i mean fucking criminal.

go ahead, keep watching.
every view you give me
is one more tick
on your evidentiary autopsy:
of how goddamn dangerous
and fucking delusional,
you truly fucking are—

sincerely,

the wife.
the client.
the fucking problem.
the mother of the child you
thought you could fucking hold
and then goddamn erase.

🪦💼🔥