Three years of long-distance marriage. The condo we'd bought as newlyweds was stuck in construction limbo, so for the holidays, all we got was three days together in a hotel room.

After that, we each went back to our own cities.

I was about to book my ticket home when I realized I'd left my portable charger behind. I turned around halfway to the station.

At the hotel front desk, I asked, "I left something in my room. Would it be okay if I went up to grab it?"

The receptionist typed something into her computer, then looked up.

"Room 502 has actually been booked for three months straight. It's under your boyfriend's name. Want to head up and check?"

My stomach dropped.

Three months?

Max had just texted me saying he was already back at his parents' place. He'd even sent a photo to prove it, like he was worried I wouldn't believe him.

In the picture, he was tossing handfuls of grain to the chickens in the yard.

So who was in that hotel room?

——

A cold weight settled in my chest. I walked inside in a daze.

I hadn't even reached Room 502 yet.

But I could already hear them. Muffled, intimate sounds seeping through the door.

A girl giggled, her voice flirtatious and sweet.

"Max, you're so bad."

"You tricked your wife into going home just so I could keep you company here. What, one woman isn't enough for you?"

"Gotta build yourself a whole harem, huh?"

"If Madeline Henson ever found out you lied about your business trip and turned this hotel into your little love nest, she'd lose it."

A soft scoff, and then Max's voice drifted out, lazy and indifferent.

"Her? I got bored of her ages ago."

"I sent her packing early so I could spend real time with you. The next three days? I'm going to make sure you're taken care of, day and night."

The sound of him rolling on top of her.

Then everything behind that door became impossible to describe.

My scalp prickled. I nearly lost it right there in the hallway.

I wanted to kick the door down. I wanted to storm in and demand answers. Why?

Was I not enough for him? Or was lying to me just part of the thrill?

But the moment my hand touched the door, I pulled it back, trembling.

What's the point of making a scene?

I stood outside Room 502 and listened for two full hours.

Every emotion I'd ever felt tangled into a knot I couldn't undo.

Three years married to Max Matthews, and we'd been apart for nearly all of it. Our jobs kept us in different cities. Every reunion was hard-won, and every goodbye came too fast.

I'd treasured every single moment we had together. But looking back, Max had always been... off.

No wonder he'd been making excuses lately. "Babe, I'm exhausted. My back is killing me."

"We're an old married couple. We don't need to do it that often."

"And the whole situation with the condo falling through has me so stressed out. I'm just not in the mood."

I'd look at the fatigue on his face.

Every time, I'd feel sorry for him and back off.

It never occurred to me that he'd been saving his energy for the woman on the side.

Two hours later, my phone buzzed.

A text from Max.

"Baby, I miss you so much."

"It's so boring back home. There's not even a karaoke bar. All I do is lie in bed and sleep."

I stared at those words. My vision blurred, but a cold smile crept across my face.

Boring, huh?

So boring that all he did was stay in bed.

I let out a sharp laugh and hit the video call button.

Chaos erupted on the other end. Max panicked so hard he dropped his phone.

"What's wrong?" the girl whined, pouting.

"Crap. The old ball and chain is video-calling me."

"So pick up." The girl propped her chin on her hand, watching him with amusement.

"Are you kidding me? I just told her I was back home feeding chickens, and I've got a gorgeous woman in my arms. How the hell am I supposed to answer this?"

After a long, agonizing hesitation, Max finally accepted the call.

His camera was pitch black. His voice came through muffled, thick with feigned drowsiness. "Babe, what's wrong? I just fell asleep."

I knew he was faking it.

Even the nasal tone in his voice was a perfect imitation of someone half-asleep. Rehearsed.

Max and I had been married for three years. I'd landed a government position in another city, so we had no choice but to live apart. On the days we couldn't see each other, video calls were all we had.

But every few days, he'd tell me he was too tired from work, that he hadn't slept well, and hang up early.

Sometimes when I called without warning, he'd trot out the same excuse.

In that moment, everything clicked into place.

An apple doesn't rot overnight.

He'd been lying. And once a man starts lying, he never stops.

"Where are you?"

My voice was flat. Expressionless.

Max sounded confused. "In bed, obviously. Babe, what's going on with you?"

"Then why won't you turn on your camera?"

He paused for two seconds.

"Power's out at the apartment. Can't turn it on."

I let out a cold, sharp laugh. I was done holding back.

I kicked the hotel room door wide open.

"Is lying to me fun for you, Max?"

He lifted his head, frozen in place, eyes flashing with shock and panic.

"B-Babe!"

"You told me you left this morning. Why are you still here?"

His phone slipped from his hand again and clattered against the floor.

Max scrambled to pull his clothes on. Even in his panic, he didn't forget to yank the comforter over the girl beside him, tossing her camisole at her.

"Get dressed and get out."

The girl wrinkled her nose, looking more annoyed than ashamed. "I was wondering who'd show up. Turns out it's the frumpy little wife."

She dressed with lazy, deliberate slowness, glancing my way every few seconds with a look designed to provoke.

"So what if you caught us? What are you going to do about it?"

"Once a man's heart isn't in it anymore, he'll just sneak around behind your back anyway."

"Shut your mouth!" Max snapped, his expression turning cold in an instant.

"That bag I promised you? Forget it."

"And don't bother coming around again."

The girl's smugness crumbled. Her face went white. She let out a bitter scoff and deliberately shouldered past me on her way out.

After she was gone, the room held only the two of us.

Max stood there, shirtless, and slowly moved toward me. A small sigh escaped through his nose.

"Babe, don't be mad."

He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"That girl just now, I met her at a bar not long ago. She wouldn't leave me alone, so I brought her here to teach her a lesson."

I stared at him, genuinely stunned. Part of me wanted to applaud the sheer audacity.

I couldn't fathom how his mouth could open and close and produce words that shameless.

He buried his face against my waist the way he always did, nuzzling into me like a spoiled child.

As if this were nothing more than one of our little spats.

"Max."

"You just finished sleeping with me, and the second I walked out the door, you brought another girl back to this hotel."

The stale, musky smell hanging in the air hit me all at once.

Nausea surged through my stomach. I shoved him off me, hard.

"Didn't you tell me you'd gone back home to take care of things? Back to the countryside?"

"Max, we've known each other for ten years. Married for three. And you can't even be bothered to come up with a halfway decent lie anymore?"

Never in a million years did I think that forgetting my portable charger and coming back for it would lead to this.

And Max's attitude made it so much worse.

"It's just an affair. That's all it is."

"I don't have any feelings for her. It was purely physical. A little excitement."

"Everyone in my circle does it. It doesn't mean anything."

"If it bothers you, I'll cut her off right now."

Max's words had been so devout.

He'd even smiled, knelt before me, and said, "Compared to anyone else, you'll always come first."

But now, he just made me sick.

My stomach churned violently, and I ran to the bathroom, retching over and over.

Max leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me.

"Seriously?"

"It was just sleeping with another woman. You're acting like you're some kind of saint." His lip curled. "Back then, weren't you the one pinned under some other guy, almost—"

He stopped mid-sentence when he saw the color drain from my face.

Panic flickered across his expression.

"I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean to bring that up."

He knew. He knew exactly what had happened. Walking home from a late shift, I'd been cornered by a group of drunk men. If he hadn't shown up when he did and chased them off, I would have—

I couldn't finish the thought. Even now.

For years, every mention of that night dragged me back into a shadow I couldn't escape. It had taken me so long just to tolerate a man's touch without flinching.

Every time it came up, Max had been careful. Gentle. He'd tiptoe around the subject like it was made of glass, never pressing, never pushing.

And now he'd thrown it in my face like a weapon.

In that moment, I understood. There was no going back. Not anymore.

I ran out of the hotel. Behind me, Max's phone rang, and whatever the call was, it stopped him from following.

Tears blurred my vision. I was about to hail a cab when my phone buzzed.

Brenda Drake. My coworker.

Her voice came through tight and urgent.

"Madeline, do you remember that pre-sale apartment you bought three years ago? The one your husband said was never finished?"

A cold feeling settled in my chest. "What about it?"

"I just found out the building was completed and delivered three years ago. It was never stalled. Not even close."

My heart seized like a fist had closed around it.

"What did you just say?"

That apartment. I'd bought it before the wedding. Three years ago, Max told me the developer had gone under and the project was dead in the water. He said he'd filed lawsuits, multiple rounds of them, but the developer refused to cooperate.

I'd wanted to dig up evidence myself, push the case further. Max had stopped me.

"Let me handle it," he'd said, his voice soft with what I thought was love. "Why should my wife have to worry about something like this?"

"I just feel bad, Madeline. All these years of long distance, and you can't even live in the home you bought for us."

The guilt in his eyes had been so convincing. I'd told myself that as long as we were in it together, no storm was too big to weather.

Now I understood. He was the storm.

I'd saved for five years before the marriage. Every penny. My parents had quietly slipped me money too, part of my nest egg for the future. All of it had gone into that apartment.

It was everything I'd hoped for. The home where I thought we'd build a quiet, steady life together.

Brenda's voice cut through the fog. "Madeline? Madeline, are you okay? I'm sending you the filing records and the delivery confirmation right now. Don't panic. That apartment is your pre-marital property. He has no legal claim to it."

I hung up. The messages came through instantly.

Clear screenshots of the official filing. A delivery stamp in bold red ink. Even the property management's move-in registration records. And there, in the column marked Owner, a name I didn't recognize.

Abigail Pruitt.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Abigail Pruitt. Max's childhood sweetheart. The one he said had moved abroad three years ago.

She'd been living in my home this entire time.

An empty cab pulled up to the curb. I yanked the door open.

"Lakeview Manor. Now."