My dog, Dodo, suddenly came down with gastroenteritis. The vet said it was because he’d eaten chocolate. But neither Brandon nor I like chocolate. We’ve never had any in the house. The vet said, “A friend who visited your place might have fed Dodo chocolate.” I just smiled, said nothing more, and drove straight to Brandon’s company. In the break room, his new secretary, Brittany Clark, was showing off to a colleague, holding a cup of coffee. “I was at Brandon’s place yesterday, it’s so luxurious! He has a husky, and it just adores me. I fed that husky some chocolate, and it even licked my face!” Well, it seems she’s the “friend” my husband brought home. Stealing my cheap husband is one thing, but poisoning my dog? You’ll regret this! Sure enough, the moment she saw me, her eyes darted around in panic, trying to avoid me. Spotting her reaction, I deliberately called out, “Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” Just then, a colleague passed by with a stack of files and helpfully introduced us, “Mrs. Davis, this is Mr. Davis’s new secretary, Brittany Clark.” Then he turned to Brittany and said, “This is our CEO’s wife, Scarlett Sterling.” Brittany lowered her head, her voice trembling, “Mrs. Davis, hello.” I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, a hint of mockery flashing in my eyes. She dared to go to my home and feed my dog, but now she can barely speak. With that little courage, she thinks she can be a mistress? My gaze slowly fell on the cup in her hand—a cup Brandon had bought. I asked nonchalantly, “Are you making coffee for Brandon?” She bit her lower lip and said, “Yes, Brandon said he loves coffee I brew myself… he doesn’t like anyone else’s.” But I distinctly remembered Brandon saying he dislikes coffee and only drinks tea. I let out a cold laugh, my eyes landing on the exquisitely designed diamond ring on her ring finger. “Your ring looks very special. Is it custom-made?” I had seen the design draft for that ring before. Brandon had always wanted to be a jewelry designer since he was little, but his father thought it sounded like a woman’s job and secretly changed his university major. In our third year together, he held my hand and promised he would personally design a unique ring for me, engraving our names and story into it. But the design was barely finished, before he even had a chance to make it, his father suddenly passed away from a brain hemorrhage. After that, he never mentioned jewelry design again. That ring became one of my regrets. I never imagined he would so easily give the ring he designed for me to a secretary. Brittany froze at my question, too scared to speak. She frequently glanced at Brandon’s tightly closed office door, clearly hoping he would come out to rescue her. Useless! I scoffed softly, not bothering to waste another glance on her, and turned, walking directly towards the company exit. As I stepped out of the company, I pulled out my phone and called my dad. He’s the richest man in New York, and Brandon’s company’s largest shareholder. “Dad, pull the investment from Brandon’s company. I’m getting a divorce.” There was silence on the other end for barely two seconds before my father’s calm voice came through, “What happened? Did he hurt you?” “Yes, he cheated on me.” My voice was devoid of emotion, as if I were talking about something trivial that had nothing to do with me. “Also, find me the best divorce lawyer. I want him to leave with nothing.”
It wasn’t long before evidence of Brandon’s infidelity flooded my inbox. I sat in my car, my fingertips cold as I clicked open the attachments. Video after video, photo after photo, meticulously arranged in chronological order, pierced my already scarred heart like ice-cold knives. December 31st, New Year’s Eve. A month earlier, I had rented out a riverside observation deck and prepared his favorite sparklers, planning a surprise. But that evening, he called, his voice weary, saying he had an urgent project at work and told me not to wait up. In the video, he was holding Brittany Clark’s hand, standing in the city’s most upscale revolving restaurant. Outside, fireworks exploded brilliantly across the sky, and he was leaning down, cutting her steak. Scrolling down, February 11th. That morning, I woke up with symptoms of a miscarriage. My abdomen was gripped by waves of pain, my limbs trembling with fear. I called him over a dozen times, but he never answered. I had to hold onto the wall to go downstairs and catch a cab to the hospital alone, terrified of losing the precious baby I had fought so hard for. But in the photos, he was with Brittany at a claw machine in the mall, patiently helping her win a pink bunny plushie. Brittany nestled in his arms, smiling sweetly and playfully. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain making it almost impossible to breathe. I fought back tears and continued scrolling, May 11th. It was my birthday that day. He came home and handed me a scarf. I was so thrilled that I posted a series of photos on Ins that night. But now I knew: that scarf was a freebie Brittany got when she bought a limited-edition bag at a luxury store. She thought it was ugly and casually told Brandon to get rid of it, so he just passed it off as my birthday gift. Yet, on Brittany’s birthday, he rented out an entire private estate, hosting a lavish dinner party and inviting all their friends. In the photos, those very people who used to flatter me, taking advantage of my resources through Brandon, and calling me affectionately. Now they were crowded around Brittany, raising their glasses, their faces full of fawning admiration. I slid through the screen, page after page, my fingertips trembling uncontrollably. All the details I had overlooked in the past now flashed clearly before my eyes. His frequent business trips during that period, always returning with a strange perfume scent clinging to him. The suddenly encrypted photo album on his phone, the pearl hair clip in his study drawer that wasn’t mine… It turned out all those coincidences were carefully orchestrated lies. Until I saw photos of Brandon accompanying Brittany to her prenatal check-ups at the hospital. *Thump*. The last thread in my mind snapped completely. He was at the hospital that day, too. I clearly remembered that day: I was lying in bed, bleeding uncontrollably, crying as I called him, but his phone remained unanswered. It wasn’t until much later that I was rushed to the hospital by an ambulance. But it was too late; the baby couldn’t be saved. Only then did he call with apologies and rush to the hospital. “Don’t be scared, I’m here. I’ll stay with you.” In the days that followed, he meticulously cared for me through my postpartum recovery. But who would have thought that such a seemingly perfect husband was secretly building a family with another woman outside our marriage? Hatred surged wildly in my chest, almost incinerating all my reason. I leaned over the steering wheel, my shoulders shaking violently, tears falling like broken strings of pearls onto the cold phone screen. I even wanted to start the car immediately, rush back to the company, expose their ugly faces in front of everyone, and fight Brandon to the death. Just then, my phone flashed with a SnapChat update — it was Brittany, whom I’d added on my burner account. She had just posted a new story, with a chat screenshot and the caption: 【Thanks, Mom, for the special party you prepared for me! ~】 I tremblingly clicked on the screenshot. The avatar in the chat box was all too familiar: it was Brandon’s mother. In the chat history, she affectionately called Brittany “sweetheart” and said she had booked a banquet at the city’s most expensive hotel. Tomorrow, she wanted Brittany to meet her and the family, telling her to dress up nicely. I suddenly laughed, tears streaming down my face. So, it wasn’t just Brandon who betrayed me; his entire family had tacitly approved of all this long ago. Well, if it’s a party, how could I, his legally wedded wife, possibly be absent?
The next day, I drove directly to the hotel they had booked. Even though Brandon had already arranged my schedule for that day a full two weeks in advance: A hot springs resort in the suburbs. He had told me with a tender look, “You just lost the baby, and your body hasn’t fully recovered. I booked a room for you at the new hot springs resort in the city’s suburbs. You can bring your best friend, get some good rest, and relax.” Recalling the hypocritical concern on his face when he said those words, I gave a cold smirk. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Brandon: “Have you reached the resort? I told the hotel to save some soup for you, remember to drink it while it’s hot.” I stared at the text on the screen. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a minute, but in the end, I didn’t reply. The hotel owner was a friend of my mom’s. With his help, I easily gained access to the surveillance room. Almost all of Brandon’s relatives and friends were there. His mother was anxiously bustling about, Her attentive and thorough demeanor perfectly embodied an impeccable good woman. Once upon a time, she had also treated me with such dedication, expressing her high regard for me. When Brandon and I first got engaged, she remembered my mother’s birthday and prepared thoughtful gifts in advance. When my dad had a gout attack, she arranged for someone to bring back special medicine from abroad. Even when I casually mentioned I liked homemade cakes, she would personally bake a batch and bring them to me. I truly believed I was marrying into a warm and reliable family. But now, standing beside Brandon was a beaming Brittany Clark. She wore a light pink gown, a slight bump on her stomach, her face full of demureness and triumph. Behind them, relatives and friends clustered, each face radiating joyous blessings. Only I, sitting alone in the surveillance room, felt like an outsider completely excluded. It was only now that I realized I had long become the superfluous outsider in this marriage. The clock struck ten, and Brandon, holding Brittany’s hand, slowly walked onto the center stage. He took the microphone and passionately recounted their love story: “Brittany and I met during my most exhausting phase. It was her who offered me a warm drink when I worked late into the night, her who stayed by my side all night when I was sick. She’s like a beacon of light, illuminating my dull life.” Thunderous applause immediately erupted from the audience. Relatives and friends nodded in approval, as if celebrating a great love story. I sat alone in the surveillance room, watching the deeply affectionate man on the screen, almost amused by this absurd scene. If he weren’t my husband, if his “exhaustion” wasn’t just an excuse to hide at the company while I was on bed rest trying to save our baby, perhaps I would truly have been touched. Then, Brittany took the microphone, her eyes reddening. “Brandon is the best man in the world. Ever since I got pregnant, he’s been by my side constantly, making sure I don’t suffer any grievance. Meeting him is my good fortune.” Watching their hypocritical faces, I felt my stomach churn. The period when she first got pregnant was precisely when my pregnancy was most unstable. The doctor repeatedly advised me to stay on bed rest, but Brandon always came home late, or even stayed out all night, citing company business. I foolishly thought he was genuinely stressed and even forced myself to make soup for him. Now I knew all his time and tenderness were given to another woman. At this point, Brandon gripped Brittany’s hand, pulled out a velvet box from his pocket, and knelt on one knee, slowly opening it. Inside lay a massive diamond ring, sparkling blindingly under the lights. He looked up at Brittany, his eyes overflowing with adoration. “Brittany, I know you don’t care about these things, but I love you, and I only want to give you the best. Today’s party is just the appetizer. Once our baby is born, I promise I’ll hold the grandest wedding for you and bring you home in style!” The hall instantly erupted in cheers, gasps, and whistles. I distinctly heard Brandon’s uncle, who once tearfully begged me to help his son find a job, raising his glass and shouting, “Brandon is truly responsible! Brittany, this child is so lucky!” The relative who once made me use my family’s connections to get her daughter into a good school, clapped her hands and wiped away excited tears: “This is wonderful! Brittany looks like such a good woman!” And Brandon’s useless brother, Owen, excitedly stood up to toast: “Wishing you both happiness forever!” Every single one of them had genuinely received help from me, benefited from my kindness, and taken advantage of me. Yet, at this moment, no one remembered my existence, no one uttered my name. As if I had never even appeared. Just then, Brandon’s sister, Chloe, suddenly spoke up, cutting through the chorus of flattery. “She’s your wife? Then what about Scarlett?” Brittany’s face instantly paled, and she timidly looked at Brandon. Brandon himself clearly panicked for a moment but quickly recovered. He tenderly held her closer, while glaring coldly at Chloe, his voice suddenly stern, “Whoever I recognize as my wife, that’s who my wife is. As for those irrelevant people, there’s no need to mention them.” I sat in the surveillance room, listening to his words, my nails digging deep into my palms. All these years, I repeatedly covered his company’s deficits with my money, used my family’s connections to pave his way. I even willingly gave up my career, wanting only to stay home and wholeheartedly care for him. I poured out all my emotions and effort, only to become an “irrelevant person” in his eyes. My nails dug deeply into my palms, the sharp pain keeping me from completely losing control. Burning rage surged through me again and again, but I forcefully pressed it down. I couldn’t just storm in and make a scene. I would make them pay the most painful price for their betrayal and hypocrisy. Mrs. Davis quickly intervened with a forced smile, “On such a happy day, let’s not talk about such useless things.” “Actually, there’s more happy news to announce at today’s banquet: Brittany is pregnant!” The relatives once again raised their glasses in congratulation: “Congratulations! Brittany looks like such a good girl, unlike some people who haven’t had a baby after so many years of marriage, wasting my son’s precious youth!” “If you ask me, what good is money if you can’t have children? The key is being able to bear children!” Brittany, seeing all the relatives siding with her, immediately regained her composure. She smiled and nodded in response, then looked lovingly at Brandon and declared, “Thank you all for your blessings. I’m so happy to join this family, and I’m willing to bear Brandon’s child, our child. From now on, our family of three will be happy together forever.” Brandon also held her tightly, promising everyone, “I will give Brittany and our child the best life, letting everyone witness our happiness!” Just then, the large screen in the banquet hall suddenly went dark, and the bright lights dimmed in an instant. The guests murmured, and Brandon and Brittany looked on in confusion. I smoothed down my dress, and amidst the clamor and chaos, I walked step by step towards the center of the stage. A spotlight, I didn’t know when, landed on me. All eyes in the hall fixated on me. There was surprise, confusion, and the undisguised panic on Brandon and Brittany’s faces. I slowly curved my lips at the room full of familiar yet strange faces: “So lively a party, and no one invited me?”
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