There's a common secret kept by everyone in the upper crust.

Liliana Coolidge loves me, her husband, to the core, and yet she loves the thrill of sleeping with others behind my back.

She pampers her side pieces a lot, but there's one taboo that they must follow no matter what.

They must never show up in front of me at all.

Everyone knows that I'm the man whom she's loved for a decade and the one she almost died to marry.

Liliana has made it clear that if I were dead, she'd definitely follow me to the afterlife without a doubt.

But this time, her latest side piece is a rebellious one. He actually shows up before me, thinking that he has Liliana to back him up.

He spams my phone with tons of used condom photos, together with Liliana's sleeping visage.

"Mr. Rivero, the strawberry ribbed condom overstimulates Ms. Coolidge too much, judging from the way she kept moaning the whole night. Had she used it when she was with you in the past?"

Only at that moment do I realize that my wife, who loves me to the moon and back, has chosen to pour all the love she has for me while giving her body to other people.

As I stare at the photos, I weep until I don't have any tears left. Then, I draft a divorce agreement and leave my signature there.

But when I turn around, I notice a 17-year-old version of Liliana standing behind me with tears streaming down her face.

Simon's First-Person POV

I listened as Liliana Coolidge's all-too-familiar voice drifted into my ears from behind a door.

She spoke fluent Orinian and sounded serious. "The fact that I'm pregnant with Mo's baby must stay a secret. Simon can't find out about this."

There was a brief silence in the private room, then a wave of cheers and teasing.

"Damn, Lili, you're a legend! Which position is best for getting knocked up? Spill!"

"Relax, Lili. We all know Simon's your whole life. We'll make sure he never finds out."

Liliana thought I couldn't understand Orinian, so whenever she wanted to gossip about her boy toys, she loved switching to it. Well, it's true that I couldn't understand in the past. But things were different now.

My hand slipped from the doorknob, and I turned to the young woman beside me in disbelief. Her eyes were red-rimmed.

"What did she say?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. Still, a slight tremor at the end betrayed the turmoil inside me.

Her expression twisted, complicated and conflicted.

I added quietly, "Don't lie to me."

She clenched her jaw, her lips trembling for a long time before she managed to force the words out. "She said… she's pregnant with Mo's baby."

I'd known that Liliana was cheating for a while, but actually hearing that she was carrying Maurice Gray's kid still sent a sharp stabbing ache through my heart.

I lowered my eyes and let out a bitter, humorless little laugh. "Now you get why I have to leave, don't you?"

I looked straight at the young woman and called her name. "Liliana Coolidge."

Tears spilled down her cheeks. In the murky, dim light of the corridor, her face was identical to the 27-year-old Liliana laughing inside the room. The difference was that 27-year-old Liliana had learned to keep her boy toys a secret from me, while 17-year-old Liliana only had eyes for me.

The young Liliana sounded lost and helpless, her voice shaking with sobs. She asked me, "Si, why?"

A day ago, she'd suddenly appeared behind me. When she'd seen the divorce papers in my hand, she'd also asked me why. At the time, she didn't understand why I would choose to walk away from her.

Now, she couldn't understand why she, the woman who had promised to treat me well for a lifetime, had hurt me so badly ten years down the road.

Her throat closed up. She couldn't get another word out.

I reached out to ruffle her hair, but my fingers passed straight through her shadowy, insubstantial form. "There aren't that many reasons for these things. Anyway, a promise is a promise. I won't forget what I said I'd do."

"From this moment on, I'll give 27-year-old Liliana three chances," I said.

And after the three chances were used up, I would also keep my promise to leave Liliana forever. I would make sure she never found me.

I drew in a deep breath and pushed open the door to the private room. Liliana was the first to rush over. She leaned tenderly against my shoulder, the hard-edged, decisive businesswoman suddenly acting all soft and cute with me.

"Babe, you're finally here. I've been waiting forever," she said.

"Simon, if you'd come any later, Lili would've turned into a statue staring off into the distance while searching for you," one of her friends joked.

"Sit, Simon. Lili has already cut the steak for you."

One after another, Liliana's girlfriends chimed in, painting this picture of how deeply she loved me.

Love did need to be spoken aloud, but it never needed outsiders to prove it. That was something 17-year-old Liliana had taught me. Somewhere along the way, at 27, she'd forgotten that.

I smiled bitterly and followed the gaze that was practically burning a hole in me. That was when I saw him in the crowd—Maurice.

He had a boyishly innocent face, but his body was surprisingly well-built. He definitely had what it took to attract Liliana.

When our eyes met, he deliberately flicked his gaze down at Liliana's belly before standing up. Then, he raised his glass, open provocation shining in his eyes.

"So, this is Simon. It's our first meeting—I hope you'll do me the honor of drinking with me," he said, emphasizing "first meeting".

After all, he'd already sent me countless videos and photos of him and Liliana wrapped around each other. Those images had stabbed over and over into my heart like needles. The only difference now was that he and Liliana were both fully clothed.

Liliana's expression changed drastically as Maurice held the drink out to me. She stepped in front of me, saying coldly, "My husband doesn't like alcohol."

Her blatant attempt to shield me didn't upset Maurice. If anything, his smile only widened. "What are you so nervous about?"

He switched to Orinian, giving me a slow once-over as he spoke. "I'm just toasting Simon. That shouldn't be a problem, right?"

"Yeah, Lili," one of Liliana's girlfriends chimed in. "You're enjoying the best of both worlds now. Simon doesn't understand what we're saying anyway. Just make something up and give him a reason to take a drink…"

I couldn't understand what they were saying, but the mocking looks they tossed my way made their malice crystal clear.

Liliana instinctively wanted to refuse again, but under the weight of all those expectant stares, the swell of pride in her chest made her hesitate. A flicker of struggle passed through her eyes before she turned to me. She began, "Babe, how about you just—"

I cut her off. "Do you want me to drink?"

The 17-year-old version of Liliana looked anxious as she cried, "Si, you're allergic to alcohol. You can't drink!"

But the 27-year-old version of Liliana nodded after a brief moment of hesitation.

I smiled, raised my glass in the direction of the 17-year-old only I could see. "This is the first time."

The liquid slid down my throat with a faint bitterness that burned so sharply that it almost brought tears to my eyes. In 17-year-old Liliana's eyes, anxiety crumbled into raw heartache, then turned to a deep, unbearable guilt.

The 27-year-old version of Liliana didn't understand what "the first time" really meant. She just wrapped her arms around me tenderly. "Babe, I promise that this is the first and last time you'll ever drink."

I lowered my gaze.

The 17-year-old version of Liliana knew I was allergic to alcohol. That was why, even at our wedding reception, she'd downed every toast for me without complaint.

But the 27-year-old woman she was now had someone else in her heart. She'd long since forgotten all of that.

Liliana now had two chances left.

Because of the alcohol, red blotches quickly broke out all over my face, and my head started spinning. That was when Liliana finally remembered my allergy.

She panicked, and guilt flooded her eyes. "Babe, I'll take you to the hospital."

Her concern used to make me feel warm all over. Now, it only made something sour and nauseating rise from the pit of my stomach.

I shook off her hand, my tone so flat that it was almost cold. "Don't bother. I'll go home, take some meds, and sleep it off. You guys have fun."

"No way. You're my husband. How can I just let you go home alone?" Her tone turned urgent.

She shot to her feet, grabbed my coat, and draped it over my shoulders. "Come on. We're going to the hospital. Otherwise, I won't be able to relax."

With that, she ignored the puzzled stares from the others in the private room. She didn't even spare a glance at Maurice, who sat in a corner with a dark look on his face.

Liliana gripped my arm tightly and half-supported, half-dragged me out of the room. When we got to the hospital, she rushed around nonstop, from having me registered to getting a doctor and picking up my meds.

Her steps were hurried, and she kept muttering, "Babe, hang in there. It's almost over."

It wasn't until she heard the doctor say it wasn't serious that the anxiety finally started to fade from her face.

She sat by the hospital bed, holding my hand, her gaze sincere. "Babe, this is all my fault. I would never have forgiven myself in this lifetime if anything happened to you because of that drink."

I looked at her, my feelings a tangled mess. I'd never once doubted that Liliana's love for me was true. The way she treated me and worried about me stemmed from her love.

The only issue was that her love was too cheap. All someone had to do was crook their finger to have it.

I looked away from her. The 17-year-old version of Liliana was beside me, her eyes red-rimmed with unshed tears. Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, nothing came out.

All of a sudden, I felt exhausted. The physical discomfort and the weight in my chest made me want to do nothing but sleep.

I said to Liliana, "I'm going to rest."

She carefully tucked the blanket around me and wiped the cold sweat from my forehead. She looked at me tenderly, saying, "Go to sleep. I'll be right here with you."

I nodded and stopped responding. Just as I was drifting off, her phone rang. I could feel her gaze, which had been resting on me, suddenly falter. Then, after some hesitation, she picked up her phone and tiptoed out of the room to answer the call.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling for a long time. Liliana didn't come back, but the 17-year-old version of her did. She kept her head down, not daring to look at me.

"Was it Maurice who called her away?" I asked.

She didn't answer. She just bit her lip, unconsciously balling her hands into fists.

I let out a bitter laugh. "Where did she go?"

She was silent for a long time before finally forcing out a few words. "The parking lot."

I pulled out the IV needle and got out of bed. She rushed to stand in my way, her voice tight with panic. "Si, maybe she just had something else to take care of. Don't go. Please, don't go…"

By the end, she was practically begging.

But when I looked at her, my reddened eyes held a stubborn edge. She met my gaze and, in the end, slowly stepped aside.