With only three days left until our wedding anniversary, my husband—who had always hated the beach—suddenly suggested a cruise.

I frowned, staring at the text message on my phone, feeling something wasn’t right. I called him immediately and got straight to the point.

“You hate the beach, don’t you? Why the sudden interest in a cruise?”

On the other end, Aron Howard paused for a moment before answering casually.

“What? Wasn’t it you who kept pestering me to go? Now that I’m taking you, you’re questioning my motives? If you don’t want to go, I’ll cancel. Stop nagging me about it.”

My doubts faded and I quickly agreed.

But the next moment, my phone buzzed with a video clip.

Inside a casino booth, someone shouted over the noise.

“I’ll bet ten million that in three days, on the cruise ship, Aron will kneel and propose to Melly Kinsey—while Laura Walters faints from crying!”

——

My fingers trembled as I clutched the phone, struggling to process what I was hearing.

Another voice laughed.

“Aron, what do you think of this bet? Three days from now, you propose to Melly in front of Laura. Can’t wait to see her reaction!”

“The stakes... how about making six-months-pregnant Laura put on a swimsuit show for us in the ocean?”

“Hahaha, I like that!”

“I’m in. I’ll bet twenty million!”

One after another, the voices placed their bets.

Through the haze of smoke in the video, I spotted that familiar figure.

“Alright, I’ll bet...”

I didn’t hear the rest.

Snapping my phone shut, I sank into the hospital chair, unable to believe it—Aron had betrayed me.

Melly? Her name is Melly?

My stomach twisted. Just then, another video arrived.

In the same private room, someone teased Aron.

“Bro, you’ve been flying to Canada every week for two years just to see Melly. Doesn’t Laura suspect anything? And isn’t Melly crazy possessive? Aren’t you afraid Laura will notice the marks she leaves on you?”

Aron exhaled a puff of smoke, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“That’s exactly why I got Laura pregnant. I don’t have to touch her for a year—how could she possibly find out? Once she gives me the heir, I’ll get a vasectomy. Nothing beats going bare.”

When the video ended, I covered my mouth and rushed to vomit.

It hit me all at once: a man I had been married to for three years might already be rotten to the core.

Dragging myself back to the villa, I sat in the living room for what felt like forever. Eventually, Aron came home reeking of alcohol.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his body drenched in the stench of cheap perfume.

“Laura, did the baby give you trouble today? I’ve arranged a cruise for our anniversary. You’ve always wanted to see the beach, right? Are you excited?”

His voice brushed against my ear and my whole body went stiff as their bet replayed in my mind.

“Three years and you’re still so shy?” he teased softly, slipping a bag of pastries into my hands before heading toward the bathroom.

The sound of running water echoed as I opened the pastry box.

Cakes new release—mango flavored. But I’m severely allergic to mango.

Three years and he still hadn’t remembered.

I tossed the pastries into the trash and no longer hesitated. Rising, I pulled out a black box from the back of the wardrobe.

Inside was the agreement Grandpa Howard had left me before his death.

After signing it, I dialed Attorney Frederic’s number.

“Mr. Frederic, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve signed the agreement and sent you a photo. But... could we wait three days before making it public?”

Three days later—our wedding anniversary.

Aron had placed his bet on me, so I decided to give him a gift as well.

After hanging up the phone, I snapped a photo of the agreement and sent it to Mr. Frederic.

Suddenly, a text notification appeared.

It was a screenshot from Instagram updates.

[I graduated. Dare you divorce her and marry me, Aron?]

In the comments section, Aron was the first to like and reply.

[I’ll divorce her. Dare you marry me?]

Staring at the post, I realized this had to be from Melly.

Nausea churned inside me as I gripped my phone tighter. More images followed.

A love hotel room littered with used condoms.

[Aron, this week’s quota is on me. You can take a break, sis.]

[No need to thank me—I’m here to replace you anyway.]

[I’ll be back in the country in three days. Watch your back, sis!]

Melly’s messages made me want to vomit.

Clamping a hand over my mouth, I quickly exited the chat and contacted Lockhom’s top detective agency.

[Please investigate someone for me.]

My fingers typed out: Melly. But just seconds later, a rejection came through.

[Are you Mrs. Howard? We’ve been instructed not to take your case.]

The city’s top detective agency had flat-out refused me.

Who else could be behind this? The answer was painfully obvious.

Clenching my phone until my knuckles went white, I gave up pursuing Melly directly. Instead, I sent a message to my best friend.

[Ryan, contact the detective agency for me. Use your name and sync the messages in this group.]

I forwarded the group chat between Aron and his so-called brothers.

Soon, I slipped into the group chat myself.

Aron wasn’t in it, but the feed kept updating with new posts.

[Sign up now to bet on seeing Laura in a bikini!]

[Don’t miss out—minimum bet one million per person!]

Expressionless, I scrolled through the stream of vile messages.

Then my heart slammed against my ribs as a new message appeared.

[Holy shit! Aron actually gave Laura’s heart transplant to Melly?!]

[Laura’s already in surgery with his chest open—without a heart, he’s done for.]

[I thought Aron had feelings for Laura, but the second Melly asked, he handed over a year’s worth of heart searches.]

The words strangled me like a noose.

I couldn’t breathe. Every drop of blood in my veins seemed to freeze.

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I shut off my phone, numb with agony.

On the day of my brother’s surgery, I had waited outside the operating room for ten agonizing hours.

What I received instead was a doctor, drenched in blood, telling me the transplant had failed—my brother hadn’t survived.

I collapsed in grief, sobbing until my body shook, while Aron rushed in and held me close.

He whispered that he would always be there for me. That we could have a child and build a happy family together.

After my brother’s death, I couldn’t eat a single bite. Aron cooked porridge himself, feeding me spoon by spoon until I finished.

Back then, I had abandoned the agreement Grandpa Howard left me, choosing instead to stay by Aron’s side.

The cruel irony? The heart meant for my brother had been stolen—by him.

“Ugh...”

Clutching my stomach, I stumbled into the bathroom to vomit. My hands shook as I searched through social media accounts.

Finally, I found Melly on X.

A post dated the same day as my brother’s surgery, a year ago.

She had written.

[Doing a good deed—giving my heart to someone who needs it.]

The attached photo showed an eighty-year-old beggar.

His frail body, now beating with my brother’s heart, was tangled in tubes.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as my skull pounded like it was being split open by an axe.

Aron… how could you?!

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to stand. Just then, my phone buzzed.

“Laura, I regret it. This time, I want both you and the child!”

The man’s voice on the other end was obsessive, yet laced with desperation.

I didn’t refuse. Wiping away my tears, I whispered, “I’ll be with you. But first, I need a favor…”

Three days slipped by quickly.

After boarding the Dawson Family’s luxury yacht with Aron, he couldn’t stop checking his phone.

Then it rang.

He frowned, irritation darkening his features.

“Laura, I need to take this call. Wait here for me.”

With that, he walked off, leaving me behind.

I stayed rooted to the spot and opened the group chat on my phone.

Inside the chat with Aron’s so-called brothers, the bets were heating up.

The heirs of Los Angeles’ elite—second and third generation rich kids, armed with their family fortunes—treated money and resources like pocket change.

The stakes kept climbing, with mansions and luxury cars tossed into the pile.

They were all betting that when Aron proposed to Melly, I would lose my mind and threaten suicide to keep him from leaving me.

Some even suggested they’d take me for themselves. Make me their mistress.

Silent and anonymous, I lurked in the chat. My only move was placing a one-million-dollars bet.

Today marked our third wedding anniversary.

The wager was about to be settled.

I exited the chat and opened Melly’s X. Her latest post was just three minutes old.

She had boarded a cruise ship and filmed a video in her cabin.

“Mr. Howard, who sponsored my studies abroad, proposed to me today! I’m so nervous—what should I do?”

“Well, of course you need to relax in a special way!”

The comments section was filled with crude questions, all begging to know what “position” she used to relieve stress—eager to see it themselves.

The post was already climbing the trending charts.

I smiled and added fuel to the fire.

[Are mistresses really this brazen nowadays?]

[Funny—my husband’s name is Aron Howard. Strange, I didn’t know he proposed today.]

The moment my comment appeared, her fans pounced like rabid dogs.

[Who the hell are you?!]

[Trying to scam our lovely Melly?!]

[Her boyfriend’s from the Howard Family—one of the wealthiest clans in Los Angeles! Your husband’s probably just some stinking delivery guy!]

[Exactly! This woman’s delusional. She saw Sister Melly with such a perfect man and got jealous. Pathetic!]

The insults poured in, piling up one after another.

I simply smiled and posted a photo of a luxury cruise ship in the comments.

[Do I even need delusions?]

After typing that, I switched off my phone.

Using Melly’s social media posts, I quickly traced her cabin.

Standing outside her door, I dialed Aron’s number.

The familiar ringtone echoed inside.

Seconds later, it stopped. Satisfied, I turned and walked away.

An hour later, Aron returned. Trailing behind him was Melly, her face flushed bright red.

“Sis-in-law, why’s there a woman following Aron?”

“Guess who she is to him?”

Several spoiled brats grinned at me with malicious glee.

I kept my expression unreadable as Aron stepped forward.

“Laura, this is Melly. She’s the student I sponsored to study abroad. She’s graduating this year, so I brought her along to broaden her horizons…”

Before Aron could finish, I rose to my feet with a smile.