Help! The Fish My Fiancée Bought Is a Hopeless Romantic

My fiancée spent tens of millions to buy back a male merman. She built him a temperature-controlled pool and prepared the finest fresh ingredients for him every single day. But that fish actually thought he was the man of the house. While Marcia Summers was away on business, he ordered me out. "Let me tell you the truth. Every night she brushes my scales by hand, inch by inch." "The way she looks at me is full of possessiveness." "I've already decided. When she comes back, I'll drink the special potion and shed my tail for her." I gave him a helpless look and uninstalled the short-drama app off his phone. "You're overthinking it. Marcia wouldn't spend that kind of money just to seduce a fish." "Take my advice. Eat, drink, and stop knocking yourself out trying to please her, or you'll regret it." He twisted my goodwill into jealousy and dug in on being the man of this house. But what he didn't know was that Marcia messaged me a report every day: "Honey, every one of his scales, I've scrubbed clean and sweet-smelling with the deodorizing body wash. When we make them into the merscale suit, you'll look so handsome in it." "This fish is still too skinny, though. Let's fatten him up a while longer." "Once he's plump, the merpearl inside him will be big and round, and it'll cure your migraines for good." 1 I really hadn't expected a fish could be a lovestruck fool too. So I just took Marcia's messages and showed them to this dumb fish. "Wake up. The only thing she's interested in is your scales and your merpearl." But the dumb fish didn't believe it. He viciously flung my phone into the pool, flicked his gaudy, rainbow-colored tail, and looked thoroughly pleased with himself. "I know what this is. You're afraid I'll replace you, so you're using cheap tricks to drive a wedge between us." "But I'm one of a kind to Marcia. Unless she says it herself, I'll never believe a word of it." I couldn't be bothered to argue. I just pulled out my tablet and called Marcia on video. The moment she picked up, I said, with feeling: "Tell this fish right now, out of your own mouth, why you're keeping him." On the other end of the screen, Marcia waved at the dumb fish first, then blurted out: "Because Bernie is more handsome than the other fish, of course." "Be good, Bernie. Eat a few more octopus later. You have to get all round and chubby so you'll be cute." I nearly blacked out. So this was the exact line she'd been using all along to string one fish along. Forget a fish. A dog would go into heat for three days if it heard that. I started losing my temper at Marcia on the tablet. "Marcia, have some decency. Playing with a fish's feelings like this." Marcia pointed at herself, all innocence. "Honey, I'm being wronged here…" "The care manual says it. When a fish is unhappy, it drops scales." "And if I told him straight that I'm keeping him to harvest his scales and dig out the pearl to cure your illness, wouldn't a fish that cost twenty million just drop dead on the spot from fright…" She'd barely finished when that piece of seafood asked the handler for another fifty octopus. Getting ready to film a video of himself eating obediently, to send to Marcia. The corner of my mouth twitched. I lowered my head to the screen. "Marcia, this twenty-million fish of yours polished off thirty pounds of tuna half an hour ago." "At this rate, he won't die of fright. He'll burst from overeating first…" Before I could finish, the tablet died and the screen went black. I rubbed the space between my brows and watched Bernard Summers chewing away in front of his phone. Forget it. Whatever he says these next few days, let him have it. He's just a fish. Why should I bother arguing with him. But I never imagined this guy would turn out to be a hardcore fish. In the middle of the night, he actually dragged the handler into the pool and forced him to order a bottle of the special potion. When I woke again, the pool water had gone a black-red, with a layer of broken scales floating on the surface. And when he crawled out of the pool, barely alive. His lower half had lost its tail. In its place was a pair of long legs. Except his face was ghastly pale, and every step made him suck in a sharp breath of pain. But when he saw the shock on my face, he seemed very satisfied. So satisfied he forgot the pain entirely, and started talking big at the top of his voice: "Before, I had no legs. It was awkward for Marcia when she wanted to get close to me." "When she comes back and sees me like this, she'll be over the moon." "Be smart. Get out on your own before she comes right out and says it herself." Then he deliberately shoved me aside. He dove headfirst into Marcia's bed, breathing in her scent, waiting eagerly for her to come home. The handler stood in front of me, soaked through, head bowed in apology: "Mr. Henson, that special potion has a side effect. If he doesn't get back in the water within seven days, his body will rupture and he'll die." "Don't worry. He won't be able to make any real trouble." I looked at the gray-white flecks of scale drifting in the pool and said nothing for a few seconds. Marcia looks easygoing and laid-back, but she's actually deeply controlling. Once she's decided on something, she won't tolerate the slightest deviation. She came home right on time every day, scrubbing those scales so carefully all this time. All so she could have that merscale suit custom-made for me, to leave us a memory that was ours alone. And now the quality of those scales had ended up worse than what you'd scrape fresh off a fish at the market… I sent Marcia a message right away: "When you eat fish, do you like it grilled or steamed?" Marcia fired back instantly: "Honey, I like it braised, why?" I sent a bitter-smiling emoji. "Nothing. See for yourself when you get back…"