"Baby, I’ll show you my abs on video when I get back to the hotel tonight."

The message from my boyfriend popped up just after he left for his business trip.

We had been together for five years, and each time he went away, his way of "checking in" on me never changed. He didn’t step foot in entertainment venues, and if he had a drink, he always let me know. Even when he stayed at a hotel, he insisted on calling me before he went to sleep just to make sure I was okay.

At 9 PM, as expected, Clayton Ledger sent the usual video invitation.

"Irene, this hotel room is huge. I want to sleep with you. It’s a shame they won’t let me, but next time I’m on a business trip, I’ll bring you with me..."

In the video, Clayton looked half-asleep, trying to convince me he was all alone in the room.

What he didn’t know, though, was that just moments ago, I had received another video.

It was from Matias Adher. Shirtless, his eyes dazed, a girl dressed in a bunny outfit was kneeling in front of him, kissing his abs, her smile full of mischief.

——

"Irene, why are you so quiet today?"

Clayton's voice cut through my thoughts. He was shirtless, too, a white hotel blanket barely covering his body, but his physique was still visible enough to make my stomach churn.

I felt a wave of nausea rise in my chest, almost choking me.

Before I could respond, another message from Matias popped up.

Matias: [Did you see that? While he’s video-calling you, he’s fooling around with another woman.]

I quickly minimized Clayton’s face, and Matias’ video immediately took over the screen.

Under the white blanket, a playful bunny girl caught my attention. She looked at him in mock annoyance before pinching his thigh hard.

He groaned in response.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice a mix of curiosity and dread.

Clayton, ever the quick thinker, covered up, "I accidentally bumped my knee. It’s nothing."

His chuckle followed, trying to smooth over the tension. "Baby, look at you. You’re so tired. Go to sleep already."

"I’m going to sleep too. I have a meeting early tomorrow."

Clayton yawned lazily, and as if it was all too much, he quickly ended the call.

After the call ended, a flood of videos from Matias came through.

Clayton lifted the blanket, rolled over, and pinned the bunny girl beneath him.

"Little vixen, what was all that trouble for just now?"

The bunny girl laughed softly, her voice playful, "Don’t you think that was exciting?"

"If you hadn’t ended the call so quickly, I would’ve wanted her to hear me with you..."

Clayton’s expression darkened in an instant.

"I warned you, our business is not to be brought up in front of Irene, or you’ll regret it."

But soon, the girl’s hand slid down, and Clayton’s anger quickly turned to desire.

The sounds that followed were too much to bear.

I fought against the rising nausea and quickly closed the video, rushing to the bathroom to vomit.

I recognized the girl in the bunny outfit; her name was Odessa Morgan.

I had encountered her once at Clayton’s house.

I had forgotten something and returned to get it, only to find Odessa sitting on the couch. She sprang to her feet, flustered the moment she saw me.

Clayton quickly explained, "Baby, she rear-ended my car. We were discussing compensation."

Before I could process it further, Clayton kicked her out.

"Go talk to my assistant about it."

Odessa waited downstairs and, with a smile, asked for my contact info.

"Hey, my family bought a place nearby. Looks like we’re neighbors."

She gave me a hopeful look, and I couldn’t bring myself to refuse.

After that, she often shared provocative photos on her Moments, each one drenched in a seductive gaze and a tempting pose.

I grew tired of it and blocked her, but for some reason, I found myself opening her Instagram just now. My eyes froze.

There was a post that I couldn’t scroll past, one that seemed to pull me in deeper.

Every photo oozed a strong, seductive allure.

The most recent selfie was taken at the hotel where Clayton was staying on his business trip tonight.

I hadn’t slept a wink, scrolling through her posts for what felt like hours.

It became clear Odessa’s recent updates were nothing but a blatant flaunt in front of me.

Six months ago, she’d posted: [Came back halfway, my boyfriend almost died of shock, the original plan failed, but he made it up to me the next night at the hotel.]

That incident had nothing to do with a rear-end accident or discussing compensation.

They’d originally planned to fool around at home, but when I showed up, they had to change their plans on the fly.

The following night, Clayton claimed he had to work overtime and stayed out all night.

Three months ago, she posted a picture of a man and a woman holding hands. The man wore a wedding ring that looked strikingly similar to Clayton’s.

[My boyfriend loves me so much. To make it easier for us to meet, he bought me a place in the unit next door! Of course, I had to repay him in bed.]

At the time, Clayton had said he’d left his wedding ring at the office.

It turned out the ring had been left at his lover’s house.

A month ago, she posted a photo taken in a private cinema, the shot only revealing the man’s sexy collarbone.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the red mole on his collarbone—exactly like Clayton’s.

If my memory served me right, that day had been the anniversary of my parents’ death.

Clayton had promised to accompany me to the cemetery, but when he received a phone call, his expression shifted.

"Irene, a client urgently needs my attention. I have to rush over."

But he didn’t go to meet any client.

Instead, he was in the private cinema Odessa had arranged, lost in a moment of romantic bliss.

I cried uncontrollably at the cemetery while he was wrapped in another woman’s arms, his eyes glowing with desire.

I watched all night long, and by the time the first light of dawn broke, I still couldn’t sleep.

I got up to buy some breakfast, my mind foggy, stumbling through the streets. As I walked in a daze, a car came speeding toward me, and at that moment, a strong hand yanked me back.

"Irene," Matias stood there, his face etched with concern. After a brief pause, he spoke, his voice soft but steady.

"You’ve seen all those videos, haven’t you?"

I nodded, silently inviting him to continue.

We sat in a café, Matias’ hands twisting together nervously, his unease palpable.

"Irene," he began, his voice full of regret. "I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but you deserve to know the truth."

I studied him closely.

"But aren’t you Clayton’s closest friend?" I asked, my voice laced with suspicion.

"You two have been inseparable since university, built the family business together... shouldn’t you be helping him cover his tracks?"

I raised an eyebrow, the sarcasm dripping from my words.

"Why would you be willing to tell me all this, Matias?"

Clayton had trusted him completely, never hiding anything, even when he was with his lover, oblivious to Matias watching.

Matias froze for a moment, his lips curling into a bitter smile.

"I didn’t think you’d still be in the dark after all these years."

His gaze shifted upward, locking with mine, a strange intensity behind his eyes.

"Irene," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "because I like you."

I froze; my breath caught in my throat.

His voice was gentle but held a weight and he continued, "Irene, all these years, my friendship with Clayton was because of you."

A small, rueful smile tugged at his lips as he added, "I even liked you before he did."

Matias, Clayton, and I had known each other since university, and Clayton and I had fallen in love at first sight. In what felt like the blink of an eye, we had become a couple, a love story that spanned from campus to marriage for eight years.

But Matias, Matias had never once dated anyone.

Everyone around us had whispered, joked even, about his “unusual” orientation, but he had always stayed distant, refusing to get close to any woman.

"See? I’m an actor, Irene. No one ever figured it out, did they?"

He lowered his eyes, a self-deprecating smile curving his lips as if to laugh at his own hidden truth.

"You—you're joking, right?"

I hurriedly grabbed my coffee, taking a sip to mask the nervous tremor in my hands. But the hot liquid burned my throat, and I winced.

Matias, ever the observant one, skillfully handed me a napkin.

"I know you love Clayton, and he loves you too. I had planned to bury this love in my heart forever."

"But I never expected that just a few years later, he'd be hiding another woman."

"Irene," his voice softened, "I can’t bear to let you be deceived any longer."

"Leave him," he urged his voice low and filled with yearning. "I’ve been waiting for you all this time."

Matias had gone on a business trip with Clayton. But sensing my distress, he had returned in the dead of night, rushing back to meet me, fearing I might do something reckless once the truth came out.

I managed a faint smile, a weak shield against the storm brewing inside me.

"Don’t worry, I won’t do anything foolish.”

"At least not until I get back what’s mine."

As I left the café, lost in thought, my phone buzzed.

It was a message from Clayton.

"Baby, my trip ended early today. I got you your favorite strawberry cake. Wait for me at home."

He even sent a picture of the cake, the sugary sweetness taunting me.

I didn’t respond, my mind calculating our shared assets in silence.

Clayton had loved me once enough to trust me with everything. After six years of marriage, the safe’s password was my birthday, and the bank account number mirrored it.

He had once said, with a look of devotion in his eyes, "Both the money and I belong to you, Irene."

He had sworn, his voice thick with emotion, "If I ever do anything to hurt you, Irene, let me leave with nothing and die an untimely death."

Those vows, spoken in earnest, had probably slipped from his memory long ago.

But I remembered every word.

I packed the videos Matias had sent me, the ones exposing Clayton’s infidelities, and sent them off to my lawyer.

Of course, I didn’t forget the evidence I’d painstakingly gathered from Odessa’s WhatsApp, staying up all night to piece it together.

As soon as I closed my laptop, I felt him, Clayton, wrap his arms around me from behind.

"Irene, I missed you so much.”

He brought the chill of the outside with him. And though he tried to hide it, a faint trace of another woman’s scent lingered on him.

I silently pushed him away. "Wasn’t your business trip supposed to last three days? Why are you back so soon?"

Clayton smiled, his face full of tenderness, as his hand gently caressed my cheek.

"Did you forget what tomorrow is?"

I froze for a moment. "Our sixth wedding anniversary?"

"Exactly."

He gave a playful scratch to my nose.

"Even with my busy schedule, I can’t miss coming home to spend our anniversary with my good girl."

I inwardly sneered.

He had no idea. I had just seen Odessa’s update on her Instagram.

She had posted, [Someone’s truly heartless, satisfies himself and leaves. But luckily, tomorrow, he promised me an even more exciting experience.]

In the hotel suite, Clayton had arranged a grand celebration.

A two-tiered cake stood before me, the words "Grow old together, Happy forever" scrawled across it.

The irony was almost suffocating.

Clayton had always kept me from drinking too much, but tonight, he insisted on pouring me a few more glasses.

"Irene, I’ll be by your side. Don’t worry, just drink up. The driver will take us home later."

I could see the mockery dancing in his eyes—his plan was clear. He wanted me drunk so he could slip away unnoticed to meet his lover.

Fifteen minutes ago, as he sliced into the cake, a message flashed across his phone.

"I’m here, waiting for you in the bathroom."

The profile picture that appeared was one I recognized all too well: Odessa.

Suddenly, everything clicked. Her cryptic Instagram post last night, "That more exciting experience tomorrow," had been a prelude to this moment.

A voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Your dishes have arrived."

Clayton’s body stiffened, his eyes widening in disbelief.

And there she was, Odessa, disguised as a waitress, carrying the food.

She set the dishes down with deliberate slowness, her fingers brushing Clayton’s in a way that left nothing to the imagination.