On my seventh wedding anniversary, I received a special gift. A dashcam recording from my husband’s car, capturing the sounds of him with his new lover. The whole city knew him as the perfect husband. The man who once flew in two thousand roses for me, who rented out all of Iceland just to show me the Northern Lights. But in that recording, he gasped and moaned while telling someone else, “Why bring her up? She’s so understanding. She never checks up on me.” Expressionless, I saved the evidence and set my plan in motion. Three months later, I was “diagnosed” with a terminal illness and died in a carefully staged “car accident.” My body consumed by flames. At my funeral, he clutched my urn, devastated. His company’s stock price collapsed overnight. Meanwhile, across the ocean, I watched the news from a mountain resort. I smiled coldly. That is, until I deliberately left a trail on social media. The man who had lost everything came looking for me, eyes bloodshot, kneeling in the snow. “Please, come home with me.” My former rival wrapped an arm around my waist, eyebrow raised, a smile curling his lips. “She’s my wife. And you are?”
Kelsey POV After seven years with Griffin, I received a special anniversary gift. Not jewelry. Not the Hampton property. But an automatically backed-up dashcam recording from the cloud. The screen was pitch black-the lens clearly covered by a coat-but I could hear the audio crystal clear. “Griffin, not here. Someone might see us.” It was a girl’s voice, tinged with panic but more prominently, rapid breathing. Then came the rustle of fabric, the mechanical sound of a seat reclining, and a man’s low, triumphant laugh. “What are you afraid of? This car has privacy glass. No one can see anything from outside.” That was my husband Griffin’s voice. I would never forget the sound of that moment, even if I turned to ashes. Just ten minutes earlier, he’d called me, his voice gentle as if soothing a child. “Babe, I’m stuck in a multinational video conference at the office. I’ll have to cancel tonight’s anniversary dinner. I had my assistant send that latest haute couture dress home-try it on first.” The recording continued. “Gentle… that’s the tie Kelsey gave you.” “Why bring her up? Focus.” “But aren’t you supposed to be with her tonight for your anniversary? I’m taking up your time-won’t she be angry?” “She won’t. Kelsey’s so understanding. She never checks up on me.” Then came the sound of a zipper opening, heavy breathing, the sharp clink of a metal belt buckle hitting the car window. And those nauseating wet sounds, echoing with perfect clarity in my study-a room that might have once felt warm but now felt deathly silent. I listened without expression. I didn’t cry. My hands didn’t shake. I simply clicked “Save” with cold precision, backing up the forty-minute audio file to three different encrypted cloud drives. It was 3 PM. I had been in the kitchen preparing his favorite lasagna. The oven’s heat had scalded my hand, raising a blister. I looked down at the red mark on my hand and suddenly felt nauseous. All that devotion now seemed like nothing more than a ridiculous comedy show. Every media outlet called Griffin the “devoted husband.” When I was twenty and hospitalized with appendicitis, Griffin was so worried he canceled a hundred-million-dollar deal to stay by my bedside for three days and nights. He insisted on feeding me water himself, on wiping my face with his own hands. At twenty-two, when my graduation exhibition was vandalized, Griffin flew in two thousand blue enchantress roses from the Netherlands by private helicopter, filling the entire hall. He knelt on one knee and proposed. “My Kelsey deserves the very best this world has to offer.” At twenty-four, when I mentioned wanting to see the Northern Lights, he cleared his schedule for half a month and took me to Iceland. Holding me in the freezing night, he whispered, “Whatever stars you want, I’ll pluck them from the sky for you.” Turns out those star-plucking hands were also eager to unbutton someone else’s clothes.. Turns out Griffin, who swore he’d fight the whole world for me, would also work up a sweat over another woman. Even with that lucky coin I gave him still in his pocket. The girl’s name was Joyce. I’d seen her before. She was a scholarship intern Griffin had sponsored, only three months into the company. Her features bore a slight resemblance to mine, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that she had that kind of naive, timid innocence fresh out of school-something I, the so-called “perfect wife,” had long since lost. My phone vibrated. An iMessage from Griffin. “Babe, meeting’s over. Heading back now. Got your favorite red velvet cake. Wait for me.” Looking at the words on screen, I smiled bitterly. If I hadn’t heard that recording, he’d seem absolutely perfect. Ten minutes later, the fingerprint lock chimed. Griffin walked in, wearing just the right amount of fatigue. He wore his charcoal gray bespoke overcoat, his tie knotted meticulously-the very tie Joyce had mentioned in the recording. He carried an elegant cake box. Seeing me on the sofa, he strode over immediately, his eyes full of adoration. “Why aren’t the lights on? It’s bad for your eyes.” He set down the cake and moved to kiss my forehead, as he always did. I instinctively turned my head away. Griffin froze for a moment, but he didn’t get angry. He just reached out to feel my forehead. “What’s wrong? Not feeling well?” His palm was warm, carrying a faint tobacco scent, along with a subtle, cloying cheap perfume smell. Forcing down the churning in my stomach, I didn’t push him away. I stood up and said, “Just a bit tired.” Griffin immediately showed his usual concerned expression, pressing me back down onto the sofa. He knelt on one knee before me, looking up and saying, “I’m sorry, today was unexpected. That board of directors is such a pain to deal with. Since we missed dinner, I promise next year’s anniversary, I’ll spend the whole day with you.” As he spoke, he pulled a velvet box from his pocket and opened it, revealing an enormous pink diamond ring. “This is my apology. I won it at a Christie’s auction-one of a kind in the world.” I looked at the ring. The pink diamond was dazzling, priceless. But I remembered clearly-just ten minutes ago, Joyce had posted an Instagram Story set to “close friends only.” The photo showed a young hand wearing that very pink diamond ring, with Griffin’s Maybach passenger seat in the background. The caption read: “Some things I can’t own, but trying them on still makes me happy. Thanks, boss.” Turns out what I got was secondhand goods someone else had already tried on. Even the “one of a kind” claim was a lie. I didn’t take the box. I looked into Griffin’s seemingly loving eyes and suddenly said, “Your tie is crooked.” Griffin reflexively touched his tie, his expression flawless. “Is it? Must have bumped it sitting through that long meeting.” I reached out and touched the silk tie. The texture was cool and smooth. Suddenly, I yanked hard, tightening it around his neck. Griffin was forced to lean forward, his face nearly pressed against mine. He looked surprised, then smiled. “Babe, so passionate tonight?” I stared into his eyes, my voice eerily calm. “Griffin, if you ever betray me, I’ll kill you.” Griffin froze. Then he grasped my hand and kissed it, his eyes so sincere it made me sick. “Kelsey, what are you talking about? You’re the only woman in my heart for life. If I betray you, you won’t have to do anything-I’ll jump off the company building myself.” Such beautiful promises. All complete bullshit. I released my grip and smiled. “Just joking. I’m going to take a bath.” I turned and headed upstairs. The moment I turned, the smile vanished from my face, leaving only ice-cold emptiness. I walked into the bathroom and locked the door. I turned on the shower, using the water to cover all sounds. Then I retrieved a backup phone from the hidden compartment deep in the bathroom cabinet and made an international call. “Initiate Plan B.” “I want all assets under my name secretly transferred within three months.” “Also, help me forge medical records-something terminal.” Since Griffin loved putting on such devoted performances, I’d put on the ultimate show with him. A show that would leave him ruined and regretful for the rest of his life. After hanging up, I switched to the monitoring software on this phone. The screen showed real-time footage of the living room downstairs. In the frame, Griffin was loosening his tie. Just then, the cloning software on my end vibrated-it had synced a message from his phone. It was a “disappearing photo” from Joyce. In the picture, she wore an oversized men’s white shirt, a vivid hickey on her collarbone. The caption read: “Your shirt smells like you. I don’t want to wash it.” I stared coldly at the screen as Griffin frowned and quickly replied: “Delete it. Don’t send photos like this again. Kelsey might see.” After sending that message, I watched his sickeningly practiced routine-delete the conversation, clear the cache, eliminate all traces. Having completed these steps, he looked up toward the second-floor bathroom. Even through the surveillance screen, I could feel his gaze shifting back to that chillingly “tender” look. I knew him too well. He craved Joyce’s young, vibrant body as relief from his tedious work. But he loved even more the shell of the “perfect family” I provided him. I was his weakness, his bottom line, and the indispensable wife maintaining his upper-class status. Right now, he must be confidently thinking that as long as he hid things well enough, he could have both women. Forever.
Kelsey POV Griffin kept his word. Over the next few days, he played the perfect husband to a T. Making breakfast every morning, driving me to and from work on time. He even turned down two important business dinners to come home and watch those old Hollywood black-and-white films with me. If that dashcam recording weren’t still sitting on my hard drive, I might have thought it was all just a nightmare. Friday evening. I came out after my bath to find Griffin sitting on the bed, on the phone. Seeing me, he made no attempt to hide it, saying into the phone, “That’s it then. Process her as a standard resignation.” Hanging up, he naturally took the towel and began drying my damp hair. “There’s an issue with Joyce’s project.” He explained casually, appearing shockingly candid. “She’s new to the company. Capable, but too inexperienced. I had the admin department transfer her.” Sitting at my vanity, I looked at that gentle, considerate face in the mirror and said lightly, “Since you personally selected her as an intern, you should really mentor her more.” Griffin’s movements were gentle, his fingers threading through my hair as if handling a priceless treasure. “You’re truly magnanimous, Kelsey.” He kissed the top of my head. “By the way, we’re going to Las Vegas this weekend. We made a wish at that chapel there once-this time we’re going back to fulfill it. You haven’t been feeling well, so just wait at the hotel suite. I’ll go to the chapel to make a donation.” My body tensed. Las Vegas. Where we fell in love. Three years ago, Griffin’s company faced bankruptcy. Without telling him, I liquidated the stocks and trust fund my parents left me, scraping together seventeen million dollars for him. To help him rise again, I spent three days and nights at that old chapel, dropping in my last coin and praying. When Griffin found out, he held me and wept, swearing he’d never betray me. He later retrieved that coin and kept it with him always. “Alright.” I lowered my eyes, hiding the mockery beneath. Sunday, Las Vegas. Griffin indeed didn’t let me go to the chapel. “The desert climate is too dry out there. Your cold just got better-don’t catch a chill.” He adjusted the hotel suite temperature and covered my legs with a blanket. “I’ll be right back.” Watching his figure disappear into the elevator, I pulled out my phone. I opened the burner account I used specifically to monitor Griffin’s social media activity. Sure enough, Joyce had updated her Instagram Story. Location: Las Vegas, Little White Wedding Chapel. The image showed her from behind at the chapel entrance, sunlight making her look particularly angelic. The text read: “He said he only hopes I stay safe.” The second image was a custom-made gold coin. Exquisitely crafted, engraved with her initials-an expensive custom piece. Completely different from the ordinary one-dollar coin I’d tossed into the wishing pool years ago. I pushed open the suite door, wrapped my coat tighter, and took a cab to that chapel. Today, I would witness this scene with my own eyes. On a bench in the garden behind the chapel, Griffin and Joyce were embracing. He had no donation, no prayers at all. Griffin had Joyce pressed against the bench back, kissing her. Joyce toyed with that custom gold coin in her hand, saying coyly, “Griffin, is this for me? But doesn’t Kelsey have a coin too?” “That one’s already rusted.” Griffin’s voice carried disgust. “Plus it’s just a one-dollar coin-so cheap. Doesn’t match my status now. This one’s solid gold.” “Then why don’t you throw away the old one?” “I’ve been carrying it out of habit, too lazy to throw it away. Besides, she exchanged her entire fortune for it back then. If I toss it, she’ll lose her mind. Better not to stir up trouble.” “It bothers me to see it.” Joyce squirmed in Griffin’s embrace, holding up the gold coin. “This one has better energy. You carrying her broken coin-haven’t you forgotten your old flame?” Griffin laughed and kissed Joyce’s hand. “Jealous again.” I watched with my own eyes as Griffin pulled that coin directly from his pocket. “Fine, I’ll listen to you.” He casually tossed it. That coin-carrying all my sincerity and sacrifice-traced an arc through the air. “Clink.” It dropped through a storm drain grate, disappearing into the dark filth below. “Out with the old, in with the new.” Griffin lowered his head and personally placed the gold coin necklace on Joyce. “Happy now? That thing was garbage. You’re my treasure.” Joyce smiled and fell into his embrace. “Love you most, boss.” They walked away from the garden hand in hand. I stood behind a massive sculpture’s shadow, my nails digging deep into my palms. Rusted. Cheap. Too lazy to throw away. So my salvation, given at the cost of everything I had, was just “rusted garbage” in his eyes-kept only because he feared I’d go crazy. I turned toward the storm drain. Through the iron grate, I saw that coin lying among sludge and cigarette butts. Already filthy beyond recognition. Just like our long-rotten relationship. I crouched down. I didn’t retrieve it. Because once something’s dirty, it’s dirty. I didn’t want it anymore. From this day forward, whether you live or die, go bankrupt or go to prison-none of it concerns me. When I returned to the hotel, my hands and feet were ice cold. Ten minutes later, Griffin came back. He carried the scent of chapel incense and Joyce’s cloying perfume. “Did you wait long?” He grabbed my hand the moment he entered. “Why are your hands so cold? Didn’t I tell you to keep the blanket on?” He tucked my hand into his cashmere coat pocket, his tone both scolding and doting. I let him hold my hand, my gaze falling on the empty edge of his pocket. “Where’s that coin?” I asked. Griffin’s answer was airtight. “I accidentally dropped it in the wishing pool while praying at the chapel. The pastor said that’s a good thing-it means God heard my wish-so I didn’t fish it out.” “I see.” My tone was flat. “Then we should really thank God.” “Don’t overthink it. Out with the old, in with the new.” Griffin’s profile was devastatingly handsome. “I’ll have someone custom-make you a better one.” I closed my eyes. “No need. I don’t believe in God anymore.” Griffin laughed. “Don’t believe, then. You have me as your guardian anyway.” On the way back, I saw a red Ferrari pull up beside us. It’s Joyce’s car. The window was half-down. Joyce sat in the driver’s seat, looking at me provocatively, her fingers lightly caressing that custom gold coin. Her lips exaggeratedly mouthed a word. “Winner.” I turned away expressionlessly. Winner? Who the ultimate winner would be-that verdict was still far too early. That evening, I sent an instruction to that mysterious number. “Speed things up. I want to see results within one month.” “Also, contact Erasmus for me.” Erasmus. Head of New York’s largest short-selling firm. Also Griffin’s mortal enemy in business. And the man who once pursued me, only to be rejected and even humiliated by me for Griffin’s sake. To destroy Griffin, Erasmus was the sharpest blade. Even if that blade might cut my own hand first.
Kelsey POV I sat on the living room carpet, holding Griffin’s old discarded iPad. He hadn’t used this device in ages, but he seemed to have overlooked one fatal detail. His Apple ID was still logged in, and all photos synced automatically. The screen suddenly lit up. A photo taken ten minutes ago appeared. The background was the CEO lounge at Griffin’s company headquarters. The subject was Joyce. She was taking a mirror selfie, wearing only an oversized white men’s dress shirt. I knew that shirt all too well-I’d specially flown to Italy last month to have an old tailor custom-make it, with Griffin’s initials embroidered on the collar. The shirttail barely covered her thighs, making her legs look long and pale. Most jarring was the dark red hickey on her neck. The photo came with text-a screenshot of a note. “Boss said I look a hundred times better in his shirt than Kelsey does. He almost tore all the buttons off just now, so naughty.” My finger scrolled across the screen. Next image. A five-second Live Photo. The lens was aimed under that expensive walnut office desk. A long leg in black stockings was sliding up a man’s dress-pants-clad calf. The man’s large hand grabbed that ankle-not pushing it away, but rather caressing it suggestively. The background audio was Griffin’s low voice. “Stop it, I’m reviewing merger documents.” Joyce giggled and asked, “Are the documents prettier, or am I?” Griffin chuckled quietly, and the image cut off. I stared, my face ashen. My stomach felt like it had swallowed lead. My heart felt hooked, tearing out flesh and blood with each beat. This was the man I’d loved for seven years. This was the husband who kissed me every morning before leaving, saying he was “working to support the family.” In his office, he reviewed hundred-million-dollar merger contracts while enjoying a young woman’s teasing. Simultaneously. The sound of the fingerprint lock came from the entrance. Griffin was home. He walked in somewhat hurriedly, still looking down at his phone. Seeing me sitting on the carpet with that old iPad, his eyes clearly flashed with panic. But that panic vanished instantly. After all, he was a seasoned businessman. “Why are you using that old thing?” Griffin approached, reaching out with perfect naturalness. “The screen resolution is terrible-it’ll hurt your eyes. I ordered you the latest Pro. It’ll arrive tomorrow.” He tried to take the iPad. My wrist turned slightly, avoiding his hand. The screen faced him. The photo was still open. That provocative selfie of Joyce wearing his shirt was laid bare before him. The air froze for exactly three seconds. Griffin’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. Even his heartbeat seemed perfectly controlled. He even frowned, displaying just the right amount of disgust and anger. “Who sent this? How did it sync here?” He pulled out his own phone and called his secretary right in front of me, putting it on speaker. “Check my iCloud account immediately. I think it’s been hacked. Someone’s maliciously uploading pornographic images.” “Also, that intern Joyce who resigned recently-did she steal my lounge key? I’m missing a custom shirt.” “Not only did she steal clothes, she dares send photos like this to disgust people. Have legal send her a cease and desist immediately. People like this must face consequences.” He hung up. He crouched down, holding my cold hand, his eyes so sincere he almost looked hurt. “Kelsey, I’m sorry. Security dropped the ball. These young people will do anything to get ahead. Shameless. But I never thought she’d be this bold.” “Trust me. I can barely even remember her face. That shirt? I had someone toss it the second I saw her in it. Too dirty.” Perfect explanation. If I were the naive fool I used to be, I probably would have believed him. He was Griffin, a billionaire. How could he possibly be interested in some ordinary intern? But I’d heard the recording. I’d heard him calling her “little vixen” in the car, praising how “tight” she was. Watching him play the upright gentleman now just made me sick. “I see.” I closed the screen and casually tossed the iPad into the nearby trash. “Then let’s throw it away. It really is dirty.” Griffin visibly relaxed. He thought the matter was settled. He lifted me from the floor and walked toward the dining room. “To make amends, I personally cooked your favorite lobster risotto tonight. Stop looking at this garbage-it ruins your mood.” I leaned against him, listening to his strong heartbeat. One beat, two beats. Each one the rhythm of lies. During dinner, Griffin carefully extracted the lobster meat and fed it to me. I took a bite, then suddenly spoke. “Griffin, I want to sell that Hampton beach house.” Griffin’s hands paused mid-extraction. “Why the sudden decision to sell?” “There might be something unclean there.” I sipped white wine, speaking casually. “Last time I stayed there, I kept having nightmares. Plus a real estate agent friend said the market’s at peak prices right now.” That villa was Griffin’s engagement gift to me. Worth forty million. “Alright.” Griffin didn’t hesitate. He set the sliced meat on my plate. “It’s in your name. Your call. Keep the money as your nest egg. If it’s not enough, I’ll send more.” He was so confident. Confident that I loved him desperately and would never leave him. So he didn’t care about those tens of millions of dollars at all. “Thank you, honey.” I smiled. But the smile didn’t reach my eyes. That very night, I contacted that real estate agent friend. Only one requirement: cash deal, urgent sale, complete the paperwork within three days. All received funds to be transferred to an anonymous trust account in the Cayman Islands. That was my “escape pod.” And my offering to Erasmus. Late at night, Griffin’s breathing grew steady and slow. I picked up his phone. The password was my birthday. It never changed. Unlocked. Opened WhatsApp. His chat with Joyce had been wiped clean. But in Messenger drafts, I found an unsent message. “Sorry you had to go through this, babe. Tomorrow’s just for show. Go to HR first thing and process the transfer. You’ll be operations director at the branch. Be good. I’ll take you to Tahiti in a few days. Just the two of us.” I stared at those words for a long time. Then screenshot, sent to my secret email. Deleted the record, put the phone back. I lay back in bed, my back to Griffin. Tears silently streamed down, soaking the silk pillowcase. This would be the last time I cried for this man. Starting tomorrow, even if it meant going to hell, I’d drag him down with me.
Kelsey POV One week later, Metropolitan Charity Gala, New York. Griffin arrived with me in full formal attire. I wore a black velvet backless gown, like a proud black swan. Around my neck was an emerald jewelry set-my grandmother’s legacy, my final dignity and confidence. Griffin wore a purely handmade Italian tuxedo, handsome and upright. The moment we entered, we became the focus of all cameras. “Mr. Griffin and his wife are truly a model couple.” “Seven years married and still this devoted-practically royalty among the elite.” Compliments and envy surrounded us. Griffin stayed attentively protective, shielding me from drinks, adjusting my dress-every detail performed to perfection. Then the charity auction began. The finale item was a blue diamond necklace called “Ocean’s Tears,” starting bid five million dollars. “Like it?” Griffin whispered in my ear, his breath warming my neck. I glanced listlessly at the large screen. “Too ostentatious.” “That’s what makes it worthy of you.” Griffin raised his paddle without hesitation. “Six million.” “Seven million.” “Eight million.” The price skyrocketed. Finally, Griffin won it for twelve million dollars. The entire hall erupted in applause.The auctioneer exclaimed excitedly, “Congratulations, Mr. Griffin! Is this an anniversary gift for Mrs. Kelsey?” Griffin took the microphone, gazing at me with deep affection. “My wife deserves all the beauty this world has to offer. This necklace only gains a soul when it graces her beautiful neck.” Under everyone’s envious and jealous gazes, I cooperatively displayed a happy, bashful smile. Only I knew how much I was digging my nails into my own hand beneath the tablecloth. Because I had seen her. In the most inconspicuous shadowy corner of the banquet hall stood a girl in a server’s uniform. It was Joyce. She hadn’t gone to the branch office at all. She’d found a way to sneak in here. She held a champagne tray, those eyes full of greed and jealousy fixed on that blue diamond necklace on stage. Midway through the gala, I went to the restroom. Just as I turned the corridor corner, from the corner of my eye through a half-open lounge door, I saw two entangled figures inside. By the moonlight streaming in, I recognized them as Griffin and Joyce. That “Ocean’s Tears” necklace worth over twelve million dollars was now hanging around Joyce’s pale neck. The blue diamond glittered with a cold light in the darkness. I quickly pulled out my phone and pressed record. “Like it?” Griffin’s voice carried heavy breathing. “Love it to death.” Joyce caressed the diamond lovingly. “But you just publicly bought this for that old hag Kelsey.” “That was a PR show for the media and board of directors.” Griffin kissed her neck frantically. “Only you are the little vixen in my heart. On her, it’s just an expensive display rack. On you, you’re the one I truly want to spoil.” “Do I have to return it to her later?” “No need. I already had someone make a high-quality fake. The naked eye can’t tell the difference. You keep the real one. I’ll put the fake on her later.” Real diamond for the mistress, fake for the wife. I forced down the urge to burst in and tear their faces apart, my nails digging into my palms. Save the recording. Turn and leave. Back in the banquet hall, I acted as if nothing had happened, chatting and laughing with the socialites over champagne. Ten minutes later, Griffin returned. He held that exquisite velvet jewelry box, walked up to me, and opened it with great ceremony. “Kelsey, let me put it on you.” The necklace lay quietly in the box, still dazzling. But I could tell at a glance. The fire was wrong. A real diamond’s brilliance is cold and sharp, but this one, though exceptionally crafted, refracted light with a dull, cheap quality. It was the fake. Griffin really had skills-he must have premeditated this “substitution” long ago. I obediently turned around, lifting my long hair to expose my neck. The cold metal touched my skin like a damp, cold serpent coiling around me. “Beautiful.” Griffin praised sincerely in my ear. “Only you in the world can wear it with such nobility.” I touched that fake necklace, turned around, and smiled radiantly. “Thank you, honey. I love it.” “Oh, when I went to the restroom earlier, I think I saw that former intern Joyce.” I suddenly spoke up. Griffin’s eyes instantly contracted, then immediately returned to normal. “You must have seen wrong. She’s already been transferred to the Seattle branch.” “Really? Maybe my eyes were playing tricks.” I sipped champagne. “After all, that cheap, overpowering perfume smell really shouldn’t appear at this kind of event.” Griffin’s smile stiffened for an instant. The gala ended. Sitting in the luxury car’s back seat on the way home, I sent Erasmus an encrypted message. “The evidence chain is complete. The blue diamond is fake-I’ll get the appraisal report. Erasmus, you can launch your takeover plan. I want to see him utterly disgraced.” Erasmus replied instantly. “You’re ruthless. Wearing a fake and still putting on an act with him.” I replied: “If I’m not ruthless, how can I send him to hell?” Back home, I removed that fake necklace and casually tossed it into the bottom of my jewelry box. Griffin hugged me from behind. “Why’d you take it off?” “Too heavy. My neck hurts.” I turned to avoid his kiss. “I’m going to take a bath.” In the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. The inferior metal necklace had rubbed a faint red mark on my neck. I splashed cold water on my face again and again, the hatred in my eyes growing clearer with each droplet. Griffin, every fake gift you’ve given me, every lie you’ve told-I’ll repay them all tenfold. Just wait and see.
Kelsey POV Half a month later, Griffin claimed he needed to go on a business trip to Tokyo, Japan. “There’s a tricky cross-border merger to negotiate in Tokyo for a few days.” As he packed, he deliberately brought two boxes of “peace crosses” I’d obtained for him years ago-props to maintain his “devoted” persona in front of me. I leaned against the doorframe, holding a cup of hot milk. “How many days?” “Five. If you miss me, I’ll compress the negotiations to three days.” “No need. Work comes first.” I said considerately. The moment Griffin’s front foot left, my back foot booked a flight. Not to Tokyo, but to Hokkaido. I’d planted military-grade tracking software in Griffin’s private phone. That red dot wasn’t in bustling Tokyo at all, but at an extremely private hot spring resort hotel in Hokkaido. When checking in, I specifically pulled strings to get the suite next to Griffin’s. This hotel emphasized natural authenticity. Though privacy was good, the bamboo fences between outdoor balconies didn’t provide ideal soundproofing. At 10 PM, I sat in a rattan chair on the balcony, swirling a glass of sake, a high-sensitivity voice recorder on my lap. The sound of trickling water came from next door. Along with that voice that made me physically nauseated. “Griffin, the water’s so hot. Be gentle.” Joyce’s voice was coquettish to the bone, mixing clearly with the sound of splashing water. “Hot is stimulating. That’s why I brought you here.” Griffin’s voice was low and husky. “Been stifled in that proper office setting, haven’t you? No one knows us here. Scream however you want.” “Do you love me?” “Love you. Love this body of yours to death.” “What about Kelsey?” “Why bring up that wooden plank? She’s like a dead fish in bed-rigid and boring. Nothing like how well you know how to play.” My grip on the sake glass suddenly tightened, my knuckles turning white. Wooden plank. Dead fish. Rigid and boring. So that was his true assessment of me. To accommodate his so-called “work stress,” I was extremely gentle and considerate every time, forcing myself to cooperate even when physically uncomfortable. In his mouth, all that consideration became evidence of my being boring. I pulled out my phone and dialed Griffin’s number. The water sounds next door instantly stopped. Griffin’s voice filled with panic. “Shh, don’t make a sound. It’s that yellow-faced hag calling.” Joyce covered her mouth with a giggling laugh. The call connected. “Hello, babe?” Griffin’s voice switched seamlessly, sounding exhausted. “Why aren’t you asleep yet? If you hadn’t called, I would’ve almost fallen asleep in the conference room.” I listened to the deliberately suppressed breathing next door, my tone calm as water. “Just checking in. Where are you?” “At the hotel. Just finished the third round of video conferences. My head’s about to explode from exhaustion. I have a whole day of negotiations tomorrow too.” “Alone?” “Of course I’m alone. Who else would there be? You think I’m keeping a mistress?” Griffin’s tone carried a hint of helpless indulgence. “Kelsey, stop being silly. I’m very tired, and I miss you.” At the same time, a crisp sound came from next door. “Smack.” The sound of a palm slapping wet skin. Joyce couldn’t hold back a short cry of surprise. “Ah…” Griffin’s end went instantly silent-clearly he’d covered the phone. A few seconds later, he uncovered it and explained, “Room service just brought water and accidentally broke a glass. Babe, it’s really late. You should rest too. I love you.” “I love you too.” I hung up. Next door immediately erupted in unrestrained laughter. “You scared me to death. You’re so bad, deliberately slapping my butt just now.” Joyce said coquettishly. “Who told you to moan so loud? Almost gave us away.” “It’d be better if we were exposed. Let her know whose man you really are now.” I turned off the voice recorder and saved the file. Standing up, I walked to the balcony’s edge. Through the gaps in the bamboo screen, in the moonlight, two bodies in the outdoor hot spring pool next door were entwined like snakes. I watched with cold eyes for a full minute. That was my complete farewell to my past self. Back in my room, I lay on the tatami mat. The commotion next door continued. I put on top-of-the-line noise-canceling headphones and played Beethoven’s “Symphony of Fate.” My heart was surprisingly calm. The Kelsey who would cry late into the night over her husband’s infidelity was already dead. The one alive now was an avenger.
Kelsey POV On the third day after Griffin returned to the country, he worked late in the study until the early morning hours. I pushed open the door carrying a glass of warm milk with calming ingredients. The computer screen was still lit, displaying not financial statements but an obstetric ultrasound report. Griffin reacted extremely quickly, frantically closing the window. His mouse even knocked over the black coffee at his elbow. Brown liquid spilled across the desk, dripping along the edge onto the Damascus carpet. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” He stood up abruptly, using his body to block the screen, looking somewhat panicked but quickly forcing composure. “The company has an urgent project. I’ll sleep once I finish handling it.” I set the milk at a clean spot on the desk corner. “I was worried when you didn’t come back to the bedroom.” I pretended to glance casually at that darkened screen and asked calmly, “What was that interface just now? It looked like a hospital test report.” Griffin’s fingers trembled involuntarily. “Nothing. The company VP isn’t feeling well. He asked me to help look at his physical examination report from Mayo Clinic.” He walked around the desk and hugged my waist from behind, burying his head in my neck, his voice muffled. “Honey, let’s have a baby.” My body instantly stiffened. Have a baby? For these seven years, every time I brought up wanting a child, Griffin always deflected with excuses like “wanting a few more years of just the two of us” or “not wanting you to suffer through childbirth.” Now that Joyce was “pregnant,” he wanted a child. Did he want to legitimately register that bastard child under my name? Make me raise their child? “We’ll see.” I gently pushed him away. “It’s late. Clean up and get some rest.” Griffin didn’t insist, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “Alright, whatever you say. Oh, I have an important business dinner tomorrow. I won’t be home for dinner.” “Okay.” I turned and walked out of the study. The moment I closed the door, I pulled out my phone. Just ten minutes ago, Joyce had sent me a video. The video background was the back seat of Griffin’s car. The camera shook violently, showing only two entangled legs and clothes scattered on the floor. The audio was crystal clear-sickeningly sweet mixed with physiologically disturbing moans. “Griffin, be gentle. Don’t hurt our baby.” “Relax, I know what I’m doing. It’s only a month old, just an embryo. Not that delicate.” Griffin’s voice sounded abnormally excited. “This is also the first heir to the Griffin family line. You’ve done a great service.” “What about Kelsey? If she finds out I’m pregnant with your child, won’t she lose it?” “Don’t worry about her. With her condition, she can’t get pregnant anyway. Once the baby’s born, we’ll say it’s adopted. Or from a surrogate. Bring it home and have her raise it. That woman’s full of maternal instinct. She’ll love the kid like her own.” “You’re so bad. But I like it.” The video ended there. I stood in the hallway shadows, looking at the last photo on my phone screen. It was a pregnancy test stick photo Joyce had sent, with bright red double lines. The accompanying text read: “Borrowing your nest to hatch my egg. Wealthy families need heirs. If you won’t give birth, someone has to. Don’t be ungrateful.” I deleted the photo and completely cleared the chat history. My fingers flew across the screen as I messaged Erasmus. “The fish took the bait. Send Joyce’s fake pregnancy report to Griffin’s corporate email tomorrow at 9 AM. Use the untraceable IP.” Erasmus replied. “Got it. The ‘scene’ is set. Your double is in position. Tomorrow at 3 PM. Highway 1.” “Good.” I put the phone down and went to sleep. That night, I slept exceptionally well. I knew the real show was finally about to begin.
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