While taking my annual vacation, I lay back in the Private Spa Suite, savoring the peace. When the waiter handed me a small cake, I casually complimented him, “Great service here. Do all guests get this?” He replied, “No, only for female guests or couples.” The fork slipped from my fingers and dropped into the water. My husband, Daniel Hayes, brings me this exact triangular slice, a Rose-Petal Cake, every time he returns from a business trip. Something in my gut told me that he’d been cheating—and that his mistress must not like sweets. My name is Rachel Evans. I’m the manager of the Emerald Jewelry Sales Division, and after a few years of shrewd investments, I’ve done pretty well for myself. Daniel Hayes, my husband, was my college classmate. From freshman to junior year, he persistently chased after me until, finally, I said yes. An arts student with little in the way of prospects, he landed his sales consultant job because I pulled some strings for him. But I liked his looks and his loyal, gentle-dog qualities. Now, though, I stared at the tiny cake in my hands, silent for a long time. Daniel brings back this triangular slice of Rose-Petal Cake after every business trip, claiming it’s complimentary from his hotel. Single male guests don’t usually receive perks like this, though—so, it’s likely another woman stayed with him. Unlike Daniel, I am naturally thrifty; whenever I travel to meet clients, I’m usually back the same day, and even if I stay overnight, I settle for a basic three-star hotel. But Daniel, comfortably reimbursed by the company, has no qualms about booking luxury accommodations. When I confided my suspicions to my friend Stephanie Ward, she was shocked but quickly gave her opinion: “No way. You two were college sweethearts—you’ve been through everything together, from school uniforms to wedding rings. Get the facts straight before you decide anything.” I frowned and nodded. Honestly, I couldn’t be sure if I was overreacting or if there was really something there. Either way, I needed to test Daniel. Stephanie, who runs a nail salon and has a sharp way with words, is a little more street-smart than I am. While I’m good with the business side of things, she’s better at reading people, so I asked her to help me strategize. After thinking it over, she texted me the next day with a plan: “Doesn’t he travel a lot? His mistress might be a coworker. We can try waiting for him by the underground parking after work to see who he’s with.” It was a solid plan. Since they’d be traveling together, the mistress was likely a female colleague. So, before Daniel left work that evening, I called to let him know that I’d be out with Stephanie and wouldn’t stop by to visit him. “All right, hon. I’ll be home after work to wait for you,” he replied, his tone as warm as ever, making me doubt myself for a second. That evening, Stephanie and I sat waiting in her car at the parking garage. It didn’t take long. Daniel appeared, heading toward his parking space—and a young woman was walking beside him, clinging to his arm and leaning provocatively close. My lips pressed together, my fists clenching. Just as I thought, he was cheating with a younger female coworker. Stephanie sneered. “Unbelievable. Has he forgotten who fed him when he was jobless? You got him that job, and this is how he repays you?” Yes, Daniel came from a modest background, while my family was well-off. We were from different worlds. Naturally, my parents had strongly opposed our relationship. But I’d been defiant, swearing our love would get us through anything, like a real-life Romeo and Juliet. Now reality was making a mockery of those ideals. My hands tightened around the steering wheel, my gaze locked on the scene unfolding in front of me. Unexpectedly, just as the woman was about to get in the car, Daniel gently pushed her away. “Sorry,” he said loudly. “I’m married. Please keep things professional between us.” His voice carried clearly in the empty garage; I heard every word. The young woman stomped off, clearly frustrated, and turned away without looking back. Stephanie exhaled in relief. “See? He probably didn’t cheat. She must’ve been trying to get with him one-sidedly.” One-sided…? I wasn’t buying it. That woman was exactly Daniel’s type. When I got home, I was still uneasy. While I was changing in the entryway, Daniel—who had arrived home earlier than usual—walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. “Happy anniversary, babe.” He placed a diamond necklace around my neck. I was a bit taken aback, as my work in emeralds made me prefer diamonds more. I pulled away from him, unable to ignore it. “Who was that woman I saw you with, the one you nearly gave a ride?” Daniel looked mildly surprised but explained gently, “Oh, you mean Zoe. She’s just the boss’s little fling. Even if I wanted to, getting involved with her would mean career suicide.” Seeing my frown relax slightly, he leaned in and murmured, “You’re the only one in my heart, babe.” His explanation was flawless. I couldn’t argue further, but his embrace felt cold, somehow hollow. Was it possible that everything was just in my head?
My doubts stemmed from my own insecurity about marriage. Being firm on living the DINK lifestyle, I’m a career-driven woman who doesn’t want kids. This was something Daniel’s family never accepted. His mother, Linda Hayes, comes from a traditional background, where passing down the family name is everything, and Daniel is the family’s only heir. “A healthy couple with no kids? Just give me a grandchild to look after,” she once insisted. I stood my ground, even though it nearly ended our engagement. Daniel, in a surprising move, stood up to his mom and went through with a vasectomy for my sake. He really amazed and moved me. “Look, Mom,” he told her, “I can’t have kids anymore, so there’s no problem with marrying Rachel.” Linda was so furious she practically collapsed on the spot, feigning a blood pressure episode, though I knew it was all for show. We married three years ago and held to our DINK lifestyle, happily living our own lives without children. But despite my efforts to be patient and respectful, Linda never missed a chance to mock or needle me. “A useless hen that doesn’t lay eggs!” I endured it all, partly out of guilt toward Daniel, and kept showing respect to his parents. That morning, after a restless night, I looked at my sleeping husband and felt a pang of guilt. He’d been nearly perfect toward me, so what was I holding onto? When I went to work, I threw myself into my latest project. That afternoon, we split a rare emerald stone, and the first cut revealed an imperial green quality—pure and flawless. Ecstatic, I bought a bracelet for a hefty $208,000. It was a great investment, and I thought gifting it to Linda might mend things a bit. But her reaction was only a dismissive frown. “Ugh, what good is this thing? Can’t eat it or drink it. Give me a grandchild, and that’ll make me happy!” I pressed my lips together, holding back any mention of the bracelet’s cost. My gesture was lost on her, but I’d tried. To celebrate, I invited Stephanie to dinner at an exclusive members-only restaurant where the chef’s choices changed daily. Stephanie seemed out of place. When I offered her some wine, she refused, saying she was on antibiotics and would stick to juice. As we waited, well-dressed patrons filled in around us, making her even more uncomfortable. She fidgeted and finally excused herself to the restroom, returning with a touch of lipstick and a few extra pieces of jewelry. “Getting dolled up just to eat?” I teased, and as she adjusted her bracelet, my eyes caught it. An imperial green jade bracelet—the same as the one I’d given Linda. Only two of these had come from that stone, one I’d bought, and the other was sold to an executive, Mr. Chen. “Nice bracelet you have there…not bad quality.” I commented. Stephanie laughed, brushing it off. “Oh, please, I’d never afford the real thing. It was a gift—probably a fake.” But I knew this bracelet well. I’d inspected it closely enough to recognize a small cotton flaw in the design. Seeing my gaze harden, she grew visibly anxious.
Maybe it was her sudden guilt or maybe she just couldn’t face me; halfway through dinner, Stephanie got a call and quickly excused herself, claiming she had an urgent matter to attend to. “Do you need a ride?” I asked with a polite smile. She waved me off. “No, no, Rachel, someone’s picking me up.” I watched her leave from the restaurant’s floor-to-ceiling window. She didn’t wait for anyone, though—she slipped straight into a cab. Feeling a twinge of suspicion, I got into my car and followed. The taxi’s destination was, oddly enough, my own office building—the same place where Daniel works, where I’d recently bought that emerald. This was odd, since by that hour, most people had already left for the day. Stephanie seemed cautious, glancing around with her black mask covering most of her face. Once she reached the front entrance and saw no one else was around, she hurried inside. Narrowing my eyes, I parked and crept into the building, trailing her down the dim, empty hallways. Only one office still had a light on: Daniel’s. I held my breath and moved closer to the door. Through the narrow crack, I saw the scene that would forever etch itself into my memory.
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