My wife was raped on her way home last night. She said there were two attackers. But the DNA results showed three men’s profiles inside her. And I hadn’t been with her that night. The phone rang, jolting me awake. A glance at the digital wall clock in the living room showed it was almost one in the morning. Eleanor wasn’t home yet. The unknown number kept ringing relentlessly. In the dead silence of the night, the ringtone ripped through the air, jarring and shrill. My heart pounded with an unsettling dread as I answered. “Hello, this is Detective Miller from the local police department, badge number 723xxx. Am I speaking to Mr. Marcus Thorne, Eleanor Thorne’s husband?” “Yes.” “Is this a good time to talk? Are you alone?” “Yes, it is.” His voice was steady, calm: “I regret to inform you that your wife, Eleanor Thorne, was involved in an assault case within our jurisdiction. She is currently not in life-threatening danger, but we require a family member to come in and cooperate with the investigation.” “Alright.” “Please proceed immediately to the third-floor emergency intake at City General Hospital. We’ve arranged for a female officer to be waiting for you there, and she will explain the situation in detail when you arrive.” “Please do not disclose this information to anyone else for now, to avoid causing your wife further emotional distress. Thank you!” I tried to ask for more specific information, but Detective Miller dodged my questions, only stressing that I should get to the hospital’s designated spot as quickly as possible. Everything else, he said, would be discussed in person. I wanted to press further, but the call was disconnected. I tried to call back, but it was busy. My heart hammered, thumping so violently it felt like it would burst out of my chest. A profound sense of dread, a terrible premonition, rose from deep within me. 2 I rushed to the hospital in a panic. After giving my name, a man in his early thirties, a detective, approached me before I could even see Eleanor. “I’m Detective Miller, the officer who called you earlier.” I fought to control my anxiety, trying to keep my voice steady: “How is my wife now?” “Please don’t worry, your wife is not in any life-threatening danger. One of my female colleagues is with her in the lounge right now.” “Was she…?” I gestured, struggling to get the words out. Detective Miller nodded, motioning for me to follow him down the corridor: “Yes, I’m sorry to say your wife was assaulted.” “Where? When? Do you have any leads?” My voice trembled uncontrollably, a million questions flooding my mind. “We’ve only just started the investigation into the specific details. Your wife’s examination is complete. She just asked to see you, please follow me.” He gently pushed the door open. Eleanor was huddled in the corner of the sofa, wrapped in a beige blanket, her entire body, almost even her hair, hidden. Only her vacant eyes were visible, staring blankly at some unseen stain on the ceiling. Occasionally, an almost imperceptible, uncontrollable tremor would ripple through the blanket. She was shaking with fear. I wanted to go and hold her, but the female officer taking her statement gave me a look, signaling me to stand to the side. The female officer’s voice was soft: “Can you describe it again? About… the person who assaulted you.” Eleanor sniffled, as if she was crying. The officer asked: “How many people? You said earlier you felt it was three, is that right?” Eleanor’s head emerged from the blanket. Her eyes were bruised, her lips also injured, cracked and purple. She moved them a few times before squeezing out a whisper, barely audible: “It’s… not…” My heart tightened. “Not… it was two… yes, it was two people…” I leaned against the cold wall, my nails digging hard into my palms. A sharp pain shot through my chest, and I almost lost my footing. So, it was two people. I couldn’t bear to imagine the suffering my beloved wife, the woman I cherished, had endured. Eleanor saw me, stretched out her hands towards me, and burst into tears: “Marcus… I’m so sorry…” I immediately rushed to embrace her, gently soothing her: “Shhh… there’s nothing to be sorry for, it’s not your fault.” Just then, a nurse came in, “Emergency contraception. Please have the patient take this.” Eleanor became agitated again. Her eyes widened in horror at the sight of the pill box, and she reacted like a cornered cat: “Poison! I won’t take it, I won’t, I won’t… I won’t!” I confirmed the information with the nurse: “This medication is effective if taken within 24 hours, correct?” “Yes.” I considered for a moment: “Then let’s not give it to her for now. I’ll figure out how to get her to take it tomorrow.” Hearing that she wouldn’t have to take the medication, Eleanor’s emotions calmed. As I gently and rhythmically patted her back, she gradually drifted off to sleep. After the medical staff settled her into a private room, I felt utterly exhausted. But Detective Miller’s questions came quickly, with an urgency to get to the bottom of things. “What time did you get off work?” “Six o’clock.” “What time did you get home?” “Around ten-thirty.” “Oh? Why so late?” “I had plans to play high-stakes poker with some friends I hadn’t seen in a while. I was actually going to be home even later, but I was a bit worried about my wife, so I left earlier than planned.” “Just out of curiosity, what kind of stakes were you playing for?” I was a little surprised the detective asked that, but I answered honestly: “A thousand a hand.” Detective Miller raised an eyebrow. I wasn’t trying to show off, but everyone there was a big name in local business. Playing for anything less would have been embarrassing. At the time, I was worried my digital wallet wouldn’t have enough, so I even put my Audi car keys up on the poker table as collateral. My Audi was just one of my cars; I had several much more expensive ones in the garage. But I always preferred the Audi for its understated luxury—it perfectly matched my vibe. “Between getting off work and getting home, did you call your wife?” I checked my call log. Eleanor had called me at five-thirty. She told me she was eating dinner out and that I didn’t need to worry about her. At eight-thirty, I called her. She said she was in a bad mood and wanted to talk with her friends a bit longer before coming home. Detective Miller mused: “When you got home that night and your wife wasn’t back, you didn’t contact her—only that call at eight-thirty. You weren’t worried?” I felt a surge of anger. Was he treating me like a suspect? Eleanor had been in a bad mood recently and often didn’t come home until eleven or midnight. If I asked too many questions, she’d blow up on the phone. Yes, I’m a traditional man. I’d rather deal with tears than a full-blown meltdown. Besides, there are cameras everywhere. The city is pretty safe. I genuinely hadn’t been too worried. Later, I was just too tired and drifted off to sleep. I explained all this to him. Then I added: “My wife isn’t the type to bring negative emotions home.” “Between ten-thirty and one in the morning, can anyone confirm you were home?” I thought for a moment, “The building security guard. I gave him a cigarette when I came home, and I didn’t leave again after that. He should remember.” “How is your marriage?” “It’s good. All our friends and family know how much I dote on my wife. Every holiday, birthday, or anniversary, I buy her either designer bags or high-end jewelry. I’ve never missed one.” Detective Miller remained noncommittal, continuing: “What about your intimacy during this period? Your frequency of marital relations?” I considered: “About two or three times a week, typically.” Detective Miller seemed unconvinced. His gaze fixed on me like a hook: “When was the last time you were intimate?” I thought for a moment: “This past Wednesday.” “Just to confirm again, on the day of the incident, you were not intimate?” “That’s correct.” “I apologize, but cases involving sexual assault require us to ask very detailed questions. Please understand.” I nodded. He turned to his colleague, speaking in a low voice: “Focus on her social circles, anyone with a history of sexual offenses, and any acquaintances who might have had issues with either the husband or wife…” The questioning paused there for the moment. The next afternoon, the two detectives from yesterday returned. My wife suddenly claimed her whole body had been aching severely, especially her head. She might have remembered incorrectly, she said. There might have been three attackers. Honestly, whether the number was three or two, it was the same pain to me. I wasn’t overly concerned with the number; I just wanted her to get better quickly. Detective Miller narrowed his eyes: “Ms. Thorne, please try to think carefully again, how many people were there exactly?” Then he said they had reviewed the surveillance footage. There were indeed two attackers, not a third. I interjected: “Are you certain it was two people?” “The surveillance is quite clear. It distinctly shows two individuals from start to finish.” “However, we can’t rule out other accomplices.” “Ms. Thorne, before or after this incident, do you have any other memories of being assaulted?” The forensic results showed three different DNA profiles had been found inside my wife. Unfortunately, these three DNA samples likely had no prior criminal records, so they didn’t match any information in the database. The female officer gently asked my wife: “Could you try to recall again, whether it was two or three people, what were their physical characteristics?” Eleanor bit her lip, quickly glanced at me, and looked on the verge of tears. She quietly asked: “Are you sure there were three… DNA profiles?” The female officer nodded: “Yes. Have you remembered anything?” Eleanor shook her head: “My head still hurts, I can’t quite remember.” The female officer reassured her: “That’s okay, take your time.” I stood nearby, making a huge decision: “Eleanor, don’t worry, don’t consider me. Just say whatever comes to mind.” Eleanor looked at me, her eyes seemingly filled with tears. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, as if she, too, had made up her mind: “I remembered wrong before. It must have been just two people.” But then, what about the third DNA? Everyone’s gaze was now fixed on Eleanor. Detective Miller’s sharp eyes bore into her. “Is there anything you need to tell us?” Eleanor began: “The third DNA… it must be my lover’s.” My whole body trembled violently. I looked at her in disbelief. Her profile was stiff, her eyes vacant, filled with a desperate, almost martyred look. “I… I cheated. It’s been going on for a while.” My wife continued, her voice flat, as if reading someone else’s script, “That afternoon, I made an excuse to go out, met him, and we were intimate. Then he left.” “Afterward, I felt incredibly tired and fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up, it was already eleven at night. I quickly got dressed to go home, but on the way, I… that happened.” My heart lurched, a mix of emotions churning within me. Detective Miller’s gaze was piercing: “Why didn’t you tell us this yesterday?” Eleanor frowned, a hint of embarrassment on her face: “I’m a woman, after all. How could I possibly talk about something like that?” “What’s your lover’s name?” Eleanor shook her head: “I don’t want to say.” Detective Miller’s expression became serious: “This case involves assault, which is a criminal offense. Your lover’s name is not optional for you to disclose.” Eleanor bit her lip, still insisting that her lover had nothing to do with the incident and there was no need to involve him. When pressured further, she finally broke down in tears: “My husband hasn’t even said anything, why are you digging so deep?!” “It’s already bad enough that this happened to me. Are you trying to force me to die?” “Your priority should be to catch those two rapists quickly!” Detective Miller’s sharp eyes swept over Eleanor: “We also want to apprehend the suspects as soon as possible. But Ms. Thorne, you are lying.” 3 My heart skipped a beat. Detective Miller stood up and signaled for me to step outside: “In cases involving assault, female victims often feel guilty or ashamed towards their husbands and find it difficult to speak freely in front of them.” “We just want to understand what happened. Please understand.” I nodded in agreement. My wife had been in there for half an hour now and still hadn’t come out. Things seemed to have spiraled completely out of control, heading in a direction I never could have predicted. She had actually admitted to having an affair in front of the police. That was something I hadn’t expected. Yes, it wasn’t that I hadn’t suspected her of cheating. Eleanor loved getting manicures. Years ago, I first noticed her at the company cafeteria. She stretched out a pair of hands as delicate as spring onions. Her nails were pale pink, long, and each one adorned with a tiny pink bunny. They were hands that looked tempting, desirable. Later, I pursued her, we got engaged, married, and she always maintained her exquisite manicures. She would change the style every now and then, until… one morning, three months ago. I suddenly noticed that all her long nails had been cut short overnight. “Why did you cut off your beautiful nails?” “I suddenly felt that long nails weren’t actually very pretty, so I just didn’t want them anymore.” She said calmly. She kept her head down, pretending to read a book, but her gaze wasn’t actually moving across the pages. She just mechanically turned the page every once in a while. I stared at her intently, my gut telling me she was lying. Because Eleanor was the kind of woman who was very uninhibited in bed. Every time she reached the peak of emotion, her hands would grip my back tightly. Her nails would involuntarily scratch my back, leaving vivid red marks. I don’t know why, but when I saw she had cut her nails, my first thought was: She’s worried that the nail marks she leaves on a man will be discovered by another woman… Just as my thoughts raced like a late-night subway, flying through unfamiliar tunnels without stopping at a single station, Detective Miller and Officer Davies emerged. 4 Detective Miller said to me: “Your wife took the emergency contraception after my colleague convinced her. Don’t worry.” I nodded and thanked him. “Yesterday afternoon, your wife went to a private fertility clinic for treatment. Did you know about this?” I was surprised: “No, I really didn’t.” Officer Davies spoke, lowering her voice: “Your wife told me that one of her fallopian tubes is clear, but the other is blocked. Theoretically, having one clear tube shouldn’t affect pregnancy.” “However, after examination, she consistently ovulates from the blocked side, so her chances of pregnancy are much lower than average.” I stammered: “I had no idea when she went to the clinic for tests…” Officer Davies’s tone held a hint of reproach: “She’s been going to the clinic every month to monitor ovulation for over half a year. That’s why communication is so important between spouses. With everything that’s happened, you need to be even more understanding of your wife.” “Don’t worry about not having children. With active treatment, it will happen. Don’t put too much psychological pressure on yourselves.” “Also, regarding this incident, please don’t press her for details, to avoid causing her an emotional breakdown. Seeing a therapist might also be beneficial if necessary.” Despite this, I couldn’t help but ask: “That night… have you determined how many people were involved? When can they be apprehended?” Detective Miller said: “Our forensics team worked through the night, reviewing the surveillance footage. It was indeed two people. However, the image isn’t very clear because both of them were wearing masks, hats, and glasses.” “The forensics team is still working overtime to process the images, to see if they can enhance them for a clearer picture.” I was still puzzled: “If my wife genuinely didn’t meet her lover yesterday, then why was there a third person’s DNA inside her?” “Well…” Officer Davies seemed a bit embarrassed. She paused before saying, “Your wife stated that she privately gave the doctor at the private fertility clinic a substantial tip and specifically chose the highest quality sperm from their bank for artificial insemination. She was afraid that if she couldn’t get pregnant again, you would propose divorce, and she couldn’t bear the thought of your marriage ending.” I was stunned: “No… is that true?” “We went to the fertility clinic this morning to inquire about the situation, and it largely aligns with your wife’s account.” I blurted out: “How… how could she be so foolish?!” “Yes,” Officer Davies looked at me sympathetically, “I was just admonishing her, asking how she could be so misguided. A child is the crystallization of a couple’s love. A child conceived in such a strange way would not only fail to help a marriage but would also destroy trust between spouses.” As Officer Davies left, she continued to urge me, telling us as a couple to communicate more. Returning to the hospital room, there was a deathly silence. My wife, that foolish woman, had pulled the blanket over her head, completely covering it. I sneered. She must be utterly ashamed of her stupid actions, unable to even face herself, right? Not just foolish, but also cheap. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her. And she expected me to take care of her? I’m no saint. I have emotions too. Hiring a private nurse for her was the most I could do. Finally, I got home, pulled out a phone registered under my brother-in-law’s name, and dialed a number: “Let’s meet up, by the South River bridge.” Reflexively, a wave of disgust churned within me. Yes, to fully control the situation, I had deliberately arranged to meet my wife’s lover.
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