On our wedding night, my wife wore a carefully chosen nightgown, waiting for me in bed. I grabbed my robe and quickly finished my shower. But then, on the bathroom shelf, I noticed her phone ringing. Driven by curiosity, I picked it up. A pinned group chat with seven members immediately caught my eye. The latest message, sent by my wife just five minutes ago, was a photo of her in the shower. [Although I’m married now, you’re all still my darlings. As usual, here’s a little treat for you to enjoy.] The replies from six different men in the group flooded the screen with gloating and cheers. Monday: [Ellie’s figure is looking better and better!] Tuesday: [Ellie still loves us so much!] Wednesday: [Tonight was supposed to be my turn with Ellie. That lucky bastard stole it from me!] Thursday: [Ellie, did you miss me today?] Friday: [Ellie, see you Friday at the usual spot!] Saturday: [Ellie, let your husband take Sundays, okay? One day each! How generous of us!] The disgusting messages flooded my vision, yet a strange sense of exhilaration rose in my chest. The wife I had personally chosen didn’t disappoint me at all!
I slipped her phone into my pajama pocket and quietly walked into the bedroom. On the newly made bed, covered with a fresh wedding bedding set, my wife, Eleanor Dixon, lay on her side against the bed sheets. Her legs were exposed. “Honey, come on! I’ve been waiting for you!” I said nothing, my brows tightly furrowed. Eleanor didn’t seem to notice anything unusual about my expression. She playfully urged me to hurry over, her face brimming with impatience. “You know we’re married now, hurry up! “What are you standing there for? Honey, it’s our wedding night! Every second of tonight is precious!” I stared at Eleanor, barely containing the fury boiling within me. So she did remember it was our wedding night. And yet, she still found time to send “treats” to her group of male admirers. Eleanor sat up on the bed, her pretty face quickly showing irritation. “Keith, it’s our wedding night. Why the long face? You’re being ridiculous!” Her audacious tone pushed me over the edge. “Ridiculous? Me? “Can you explain who those men in the group chat are? And those photos you personally sent?” As I spoke, I pulled the phone out of my pocket and tossed it onto the bed. Eleanor’s face visibly froze. She quickly grabbed her phone and opened WhatsApp. Sure enough, she saw the replies from the other members. “Keith, you went through my phone?” She didn’t address my questions. Instead, she threw another accusation at me. I laughed bitterly to myself. My wife was always like this. The moment she got caught red-handed, she would immediately try to shift the blame, as if that could erase her wrongdoing. I glanced at the wedding photo on the bedside table. Those celebratory images now felt painfully ironic. Everything screamed “happily ever after” and “a lifetime of bliss,” but to me, it all seemed like a façade covering something unspeakably ugly. “Ellie, as a normal man, I can’t just sit back and watch my wife’s naked photos being commented on by other men! “It’s late tonight. Tomorrow morning, we’ll get a divorce.” At the mention of divorce, Eleanor rushed over and hugged me. “Honey, we just got married today, how can we get divorced tomorrow? “What would our friends and family think? “I can explain those group messages. “Honey, you know how exhausting my work is. I’m always swamped with company matters. “Last week, at my friend’s birthday party, I just happened to add a few waiters to my contacts. “Those guys in the group are just joking around. Don’t take it seriously. I swear there’s nothing going on. Please trust me, okay?” I tried to push her arms away, but she clung to me tightly, refusing to let go. With our height difference, I looked down at her tear-streaked, delicate face. For a moment, I felt a pang of pity. “Jokes? Since when do jokes involve sending naked photos to a group chat?” “Honey, I was confused for a moment and didn’t think it through. It’s my fault. Please don’t divorce me. “I’ll delete the group chat right now and never talk to them again!” She picked up her phone and exited the pinned group chat on her own. “Honey, I love you so, so much. Please forgive me this once. Don’t divorce me, okay?”
Eleanor’s voice was choked with sobs as she buried her face in my chest, much like a pitiful, wronged kitten. I could feel a distinct warmth spreading across my chest. I knew her tears had soaked through my pajama top. I raised my hand to wipe the tears from her face. Some of my anger subsided, and my tone softened noticeably. “Alright, Ellie, stop crying.” “Then you won’t divorce me, right?” Her tearful, wide eyes gazed up at me, perfectly angled for maximum effect. Of course, I knew this was all part of her carefully calculated performance. After a long pause, I finally said the word she had been waiting for. “Alright.” After freshening up again, Eleanor became even more proactive, inviting me to consummate our marriage. However, her enthusiasm was quickly interrupted by a work-related call I pretended to receive. Using overtime as an excuse, I spent the entire night in the study instead. The next morning, Eleanor seemed to feel a pang of guilt. My bank account received an extra one hundred thousand dollars. She was fond of using money as an apology, and I, naturally, was happy to accept it. In the following days, Eleanor tried her best to please me. She would either prepare breakfast early in the morning or bring back gifts after work. One evening, I came home late due to work. As soon as I entered, I saw Eleanor’s busy figure in the kitchen. She had prepared an entire feast. Seeing me, she affectionately asked me to wash my hands and join her for dinner. Normally, such tasks were left to the housekeeper. But now, in an effort to win me over, she had taken it upon herself to cook. At the dinner table, Eleanor kept adding food to my plate and even suggested making up for our wedding night. “Honey, don’t sleep in the study tonight, okay?” I silently calculated the timing in my head and agreed. After dinner, I carried Eleanor back to the bedroom. The room was filled with a pleasant aroma from a lit scented candle, and flower petals were scattered across the bed. Eleanor had meticulously prepared everything, determined to win me over. The atmosphere grew heated as I leaned over Eleanor, my hand trailing along her waist and moving downward. Suddenly, a warm, wet sensation spread across my hand. Eleanor’s period had arrived. She seemed to realize it too and hurried to the bathroom. After a while, she came out of the bathroom, wrapping her slender arms around mine and speaking in a voice as soft as water. “Honey, my period came.” I affectionately patted her head and got up to make her some hot cocoa in the kitchen. In the kitchen, I dropped a sleeping pill into her cup. After drinking the cocoa, Eleanor quickly fell asleep. I tucked her in and casually picked up her phone from the bedside table. When I opened WhatsApp, the group chat I had seen before was indeed gone. Her contact list now had me pinned at the top, while the rest of the messages were all work-related. Switching seamlessly to her secondary WhatsApp account, I found the familiar seven-person group chat again. The latest message had been sent that morning. In it, Eleanor reminded the group. [I’ve been busy pacifying my husband. Once tonight is over, I’ll be yours again!]
Eleanor clearly couldn’t bear to part with her six lovers. Feigning ignorance, I put her phone back where I found it. The next morning, I packed a few essentials into a suitcase and prepared to leave the house. Eleanor stopped me at the door, calling out to my retreating figure. “Honey, why are you packing your suitcase?” I turned back and looked at her, my tone calm. “I’ve taken on a new project and might be on a business trip for a week.” Eleanor’s gaze was filled with reluctant affection as she spoke softly. “Then, honey, make sure to bring me back a gift when you return, okay? I’ll be waiting for you!” I nodded and left with my suitcase. Inwardly, I promised her a very special gift. Leaving the house, I hailed a cab and went straight to a hotel. At the front desk, the receptionist asked for my driver’s license to check me in. As I handed over my license from my wallet, an old photograph inside accidentally fell out. The receptionist returned both my license and the photo after processing my details. “Sir, you dropped this photo.” I took the photo and thanked her politely. “Sir, you and the lady in the photo make a beautiful couple.” I didn’t respond, turning instead to the elevator to head to my room. After a week at the hotel, I picked up my spare phone and sent a message to a familiar contact. [It’s time.] Before long, my computer screen lit up with a live mirror of Eleanor’s WhatsApp account. The seven-person group chat was still pinned at the top. The man labeled “Monday” was the first to speak. [Ellie hasn’t contacted us in a week. Don’t you miss us?] [Ellie, did you forget about us?] Eleanor’s reply came almost instantly. [You’re all my darlings. Of course, I missed you!] The other men quickly chimed in. Tuesday: [But it’s been ages since you sent us anything nice, let alone met us. Did you forget about us?] Eleanor: [I didn’t! Don’t worry. I’ll see you all tomorrow.] Wednesday: [But tomorrow’s Sunday. Ellie, who are you meeting? You promised your husband gets Sundays!] Eleanor: [My husband’s on a business trip. He won’t be back anytime soon. Don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow.] Friday: [Ellie, can we all meet tomorrow? After all, if you see just one of us, the rest will get jealous. Why not make it a group gathering?] The group echoed their agreement enthusiastically. Eleanor finally relented and sent the time and hotel name in the chat. It was the very hotel I was currently staying at.
The next morning at 9 a.m., Eleanor posted a picture of her outfit in the group chat. She was wearing a tight black pencil skirt, with a hint of cleavage peeking out from her top. Paired with black stockings and red-bottomed heels, her seductive figure was fully on display. Then, Eleanor shared what she had brought in her bag. Two boxes of 16 condoms. The group chat exploded with excitement. Monday: [Ellie, still spoiling us as always!] Tuesday: [Don’t worry, Ellie, we’ll make sure to take good care of you today. You’ll have no complaints.] Wednesday: [I still don’t understand why you married that useless husband of yours. We’re the ones who truly love you.] Eleanor: [Of course, you guys are my true loves. The marriage was just to deal with my mom, so she’ll give me more money for my babies!] Eleanor: [But honestly, the husband I picked turned out to be a good choice. Even if he finds out about you guys, so what? I’ll shed a couple of tears, act cute, and that dumb fool will forgive me.] Eleanor: [I could tell right away how obsessed he was with me. I knew he was a simp!] Friday: [It’s still all about Ellie’s charm!] Friday: [Let’s not mention Ellie’s simp of a husband. We’ll head to the hotel and wait for Ellie!] Twenty minutes later, someone posted a room number in the chat. [Crescent Hotel, Room 502.] I couldn’t help but laugh as I saw the room number. What a coincidence, it was next door. Not long after, I heard shuffling noises from the adjacent room. Then, the distinct sound of high heels echoed. It was Eleanor’s footsteps. At the hotel room door, Eleanor casually told the others to wait while she took off her high heels and left them outside the room. Once she entered, loud voices from the next room filled the air. I picked up my phone, found her contact, and called her, but she didn’t pick up. I tried calling her on WhatsApp, but after a few rings, there was still no answer. The noises from the neighboring room quieted down, so I stopped calling Eleanor. Instead, I flipped through my contact list and dialed Eleanor’s mother, Claire Avery’s number. When she picked up, I urgently said into the phone, “I think Ellie’s in danger. You need to come to the hotel with your relatives. “I suspect she’s being threatened by someone and might be trapped!” There was a brief silence on the other end before Claire started to panic. “Keith, what are you talking about? What happened to Ellie? Explain clearly!” “Now is not the time to explain! You need to hurry over with the relatives. The sooner, the better! I’m going to Crescent Hotel Room 502, so hurry!” Without giving Claire a chance to respond, I quickly hung up. I opened the door, and sure enough, I found Eleanor’s high heels in front of the neighboring room. She always couldn’t wait. From inside the room, bursts of laughter, followed by moaning, crying, and pleas for mercy, could be heard. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I thought I heard Eleanor shout, “Daddy!” But my wife’s father had been dead for years. I looked at the high heels at the door and, without hesitation, dialed the phone number. “Hello, I’d like to report something! There’s prostitution going on at Crescent Hotel, Room 502!”
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