My husband was sleeping with his best friend’s sister.

Not just a single mistake. Not a one-time lapse. It happened again and again—and he even had the nerve to bring her into our house. Our bedroom. Our sofa. The kitchen counter where we used to share midnight snacks. He swore up and down that I was the only woman he loved, but his actions told a completely different story.

I didn’t have to picture anything in my head.

I heard them.

“Nikolai, when are you finally going to leave her? You said you would.”

“Soon, sweetheart. Just not yet. She’s still mourning our daughter.”

“How tragic. With a mother like that… well, it’s not surprising. Don’t worry, though. I’ll give you a baby soon. I’ll make sure I’m pregnant.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Be honest with me. Do you actually love your wife? Camille?”

“Yes. I do.”

That was my husband. The same man whose name made this entire city lower its voice. The ruthless, untouchable head of the Sokolov family. Cold. Calculated. Dangerous.

And yet he could talk about love while wrapped around another woman.

Thirteen days.

That was the timeline. In less than two weeks, my immigration documents would be ready. So I went straight to the consulate and submitted my application.

“Good morning. I’m here to file for immigration,” I told the officer as I passed over my forms.

She skimmed through everything, stamped the pages efficiently, then handed me a claim slip.

“Processing will take thirteen days, ma’am. Kindly wait for notification.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

As I stepped away from the counter, whispers rose behind me.

“Was that Mrs. Sokolov?”

“She’s applying for immigration? She’s leaving the country?”

“But Mr. Sokolov worships the ground she walks on. What happened?”

“Seven years ago, their wedding shut down half the city. Three years back, when she nearly died in that car crash, he donated his own blood. Last year she disappeared for an hour, and he mobilized everyone to search for her. And now she’s the one walking away?”

A quiet chuckle slipped from my lips.

Yes. To outsiders, Nikolai adored me. I was his weakness, his soft spot. The only woman he ever cared about. He was merciless with everyone else—his enemies feared him, even his own men kept their distance.

But when it came to me? He was grand gestures and glittering diamonds. Fireworks and whispered promises.

I remember how we began.

He saw me at a gala once and decided I was the woman he would marry. After that, the gifts never stopped. Imported cars. Rare jewelry. A three-night fireworks display that painted the sky in my name. One time, I casually mentioned I liked chestnut cake. He drove through a snowstorm overnight just to bring me one. He showed up soaked to the bone, his lips pale from the cold, but the cake was still warm when he placed it in my hands.

When my parents died in that crash, he walked away from a billion-dollar negotiation in New York without hesitation. He rushed back and found me shattered beyond recognition. I can still hear his voice when he held me tight.

“Camille, I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

Back then, I believed him. I thought he was my shelter. The man fate had chosen for me. I loved him with everything I had.

But men like Nikolai don’t stay faithful simply because they’re loved.

Nine months ago, temptation came knocking—and he opened the door. Of all people, it was his best friend’s sister. He thought I would remain in the dark forever.

But lies have a way of surfacing.

We had just buried our two-year-old daughter when the truth began to unravel. A trace of unfamiliar perfume on our sofa. Small inconsistencies in his stories. Late-night calls he brushed off too easily.

Piece by piece, the illusion collapsed.

And once I saw it clearly, I knew I was finished.

He could continue charming the world. He could keep spinning sweet lies in my direction. But I wouldn’t stay and pretend anymore.

I tucked my visa receipt into my purse, hailed a taxi, and told the driver to take me home—to the Ruffus Sokolov Estates.

The moment I stepped inside the villa, a heavy scent lingered in the air. Sweet, cloying… and wrong. My stomach tightened.

Then I saw them.

Nikolai was standing on a ladder, fixing decorations onto the wall. Beside him stood Vanessa Hale, smiling as if she belonged there.

The door clicked behind me.

He turned at the sound. His hands stilled. Slowly, he climbed down. The feared mafia boss vanished in an instant. In his place was the gentle husband everyone envied. His gaze softened. That familiar smile appeared—the one that used to weaken my knees.

“Camille, love… why are you dressed so thinly? You’ll get sick. Weren’t you out with your friends? You’re home earlier than I expected. I was setting up a surprise for you.”

A surprise.

My eyes drifted to his neck.

A fresh bruise bloomed there. Dark. Obvious.

My chest tightened painfully, but I forced myself to stay composed.

I didn’t say a word.

Vanessa broke the silence with a light laugh. She walked closer, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Camille, he really spoils you,” she said sweetly. “Look at all this. He prepared everything for your anniversary.”

She gestured toward the stack of gifts in the corner. My gaze followed—and that’s when I noticed it.

A damp stain seeping into the couch beneath the presents.

The scent. The mark. The evidence.

So this was how he celebrated love? By being with her just inches away from the gifts meant for me?

The pain spread through me like a slow burn, but I swallowed it down.

Nikolai approached, holding a small velvet box. He opened it and took out a bracelet, carefully fastening it around my wrist.

“Happy anniversary,” he murmured. “I arranged a candlelight dinner. Just the two of us tonight.”

I pulled my hand away.

“I’m not feeling well,” I said quietly.

Standing close to him felt suffocating.

His expression shifted immediately—concerned, attentive. He called private physicians one after another, refusing to relax until they assured him I was fine. He ordered Dante to bring supplements. He even warmed a glass of milk himself and waited until I finished it.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook me.

But sometime deep into the night, I woke up parched. My throat burned, so I stepped out of my room to get water.

And then I stopped.

The door across the hallway stood open.

Moonlight poured into the room.

And inside, two silhouettes lay tangled together on the bed.

Vanessa’s voice sliced cleanly through the stillness.

“That bracelet you gave Camille… it cost a fortune, didn’t it? I asked you for one just like it, and you brushed me off. She doesn’t even have to ask, and you spoil her with the most expensive things.”

Nikolai shifted slightly. He removed her legs from around his waist and sat upright, reaching for a cigarette. The flame briefly lit up his face—calm, detached, almost indifferent.

“I’ve already explained this,” he said, exhaling smoke. “The divorce will happen. I love my wife, but for now this stays between us. If she ever finds out, everything falls apart.”

Vanessa moved closer, her bare skin pressing against him. “I know what you said. I just… I love you too. I can’t stop myself from feeling jealous.”

He let out a quiet breath, then opened his bedside drawer. From inside, he pulled out a bracelet identical in design to mine—only the color was different. He held it up lazily, letting it sway between them.

“Stop sulking. I bought one for you as well. You’ll wear it when we’re alone. If Camille sees it, we’re finished.”

Her eyes brightened instantly. She leaned in to kiss him, murmuring her gratitude, her body still marked by him. After a moment, she tilted her head and asked, almost playfully, “Why does the thought of her leaving bother you so much?”

He didn’t pause.

“It doesn’t, not really. I have you.” His tone remained steady. “But my grandfather adored Camille. Once I inherit his shares—those billions tied up in stocks—then I can cut ties with her properly. After that, I’ll marry you.”

And with that, he pulled her back down onto the bed. The frame creaked loudly under their weight. Her soft cries drifted into the hallway.

I braced myself against the wall, pressing a trembling hand to my mouth to keep the sound in. Across from me, our wedding portrait hung neatly in its gilded frame. His smiling face in that photo felt like mockery.

“Thirteen days, Nikolai,” I whispered, tears slipping silently down my cheeks.

“In thirteen days, I’ll disappear. Then we’ll see how much you unravel.”

---

Shouting dragged me out of sleep the next morning—sharp, frantic, impossible to ignore.

When I stepped into the hallway, the noise came from the garden next door. A woman had grabbed hold of a man’s shirt, her voice breaking as she spoke.

“Tim, I gave you ten years. I carried your children,” she cried. “On our wedding day, you promised forever. And now you’re sneaking around with someone else?”

The sun had barely risen, yet neighbors were already strolling near the lake. They slowed down, staring openly as the confrontation escalated.

The man—Tim, a familiar face in the neighborhood—turned pale at the sight of an audience. He dragged the woman inside roughly and hissed, “What’s wrong with you? How many times do I have to repeat myself? No man stays faithful forever.”

The words struck something deep inside me.

I stood there, unable to move.

Suddenly, a warm palm covered my ear from behind, shielding me from the rest.

“Don’t listen to that garbage, Camille,” Nikolai murmured near my hair.

I didn’t look at him. “Tell me something honestly… do all men eventually cheat?”

There was a brief pause. Then he gently turned me to face him, his dark eyes steady on mine.

“I can’t answer for every man,” he said softly. “But as for me? You’re the only one I’ll ever love.”

I studied his expression—the flawless calm, the certainty.

“Only me? For an entire lifetime?” I asked quietly. “That’s a very long time.”

He drew me into his arms. “Exactly. And I want you to fill every second of it.”

A small laugh escaped me, though it felt hollow.

“And if you betray me?” I pressed.

“If I ever do, may lightning strike me where I stand.”

Such a dramatic oath.

Cruel, really—because I already knew the truth. On nights he claimed to be busy, he came home smelling like someone else’s perfume. He could lie beside them, touch them, then come back and say these things to me without hesitation.

“Doesn’t that scare you?” I asked. “Making promises like that?”

“Not in the slightest.” His gaze never wavered. “No one understands how much I love you. If you doubt it, I’ll tear my chest open and prove it. And if that’s not enough…” His voice dropped. “I’d give you my life.”

I thought bitterly, If you can offer your life so easily, why can’t you control your own desires?

Before I could respond, another voice interrupted.

“What are you two whispering about out here?”

We both turned.

Vanessa stood in the doorway, wearing a red dress that hugged her figure. She leaned casually against the frame, looking perfectly at ease.

Beside me, Nikolai went rigid. His brows furrowed slightly.

“It’s not even the weekend,” he said. “Why are you dressed like that? Where are you going?”

There was something off in his tone. It wasn’t brotherly concern. It sounded sharper—possessive.

Vanessa caught it too. Her smile widened, slow and deliberate.

“There’s a company party tonight,” she replied lightly. “Maybe I’ll find myself a boyfriend. Don’t stay up waiting.”

Nikolai’s jaw tightened, but she simply shifted her attention to me.

“And you, Camille? Any exciting plans?”

He answered before I could.

“She’s coming with me to my parents’ place,” he said, intertwining his fingers with mine.

Something flickered in Vanessa’s eyes—amusement, perhaps. She gave a polite nod, said her goodbyes, and walked away. A faint trace of her perfume lingered in the air.

Nikolai didn’t release my hand.

---

Thirty minutes later, he was driving us back to the Sokolov estate.

I had always disliked that house.

His parents had never truly accepted me. Only his grandfather had shown warmth. To the rest of the family, I was an unfortunate choice. I had given birth to a daughter when they’d hoped for a son. And when our little girl passed away, their resentment sharpened into something poisonous. Every visit felt like standing under judgment—like I had personally stolen their heir.

Nikolai usually spared me the discomfort, insisting it wasn’t worth the strain. But this time, his mother hadn’t been feeling well, and appearances had to be maintained.

When we stepped inside, Mr. and Mrs. Sokolov were laughing together, their conversation light.

The moment their eyes landed on me, their smiles vanished.

My chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped a band around it and kept pulling. I lowered my gaze, acting as if I hadn’t noticed the shift in the room—but Nikolai noticed.

His tone hardened instantly. “If this is how you’re going to treat Camille, then don’t expect us to keep coming back here.”

Silence fell like a curtain. Then Mr. Sokolov slammed his palm against the table. The sharp crack made me jump.

“Mind your tone,” he barked. “Are you seriously saying you’d abandon your own family for her?”

I instinctively tried to step back, but Nikolai caught my hand and laced his fingers through mine, anchoring me in place.

“Father,” he said, his voice low but unwavering, “I’ve told you over and over—Camille is the woman I love. She’s the one person I refuse to hurt. I don’t even raise my voice at her, yet every time we come here, you treat her like she’s invisible. Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

His grip tightened around my hand.

“If this happens again, I won’t just leave tonight. I’ll cut ties with this family completely.”

The same man who could order someone’s death with a glance now sounded like a husband ready to torch everything for me.

It would’ve been touching… if I didn’t know the truth.

The room stayed heavy after his words. He stood in front of me like a shield, the perfect picture of devotion. But instead of feeling protected, I just felt exhausted.

Mrs. Sokolov let out a stiff sigh. “Fine. Let’s eat.”

Dinner was painfully quiet. The only sounds were forks tapping against plates and the faint clink of glasses. Mrs. Sokolov kept sighing under her breath, small irritated noises that scraped against my nerves. I knew what was coming.

She finally set her fork down with a deliberate clatter.

“It’s been nine months,” she said coolly. “You’ve mourned long enough. Yes, you lost a daughter. But it’s time to give this family a grandson. The Sokolov name can’t end here.”

Mr. Sokolov’s stare pinned me in place. “That child died because you failed to take care of her properly. A stomach ache shouldn’t end in a funeral. Stop acting like you’re the only one who suffered. Try again—and this time, don’t make mistakes.”

The words tore straight through me.

Before I could respond, Nikolai calmly placed his fork down. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an edge.

“I’ve already said this. Camille is afraid of going through that pain again. I won’t force her. If we never have another child, then so be it.”

His parents’ expressions darkened, disappointment and anger mixing together. They were ready to argue again.

That’s when I spoke.

“You’ll have your grandchild within half a month.”

Everything stopped.

All three of them stared at me.

Nikolai squeezed my hand, his face softening into that familiar mask of concern. “Sweetheart… you don’t need to pressure yourself for me. I’ll handle it. I’ll protect you.”

Protect me?

He couldn’t even stop himself from running to Vanessa whenever she called.

Still, I smiled faintly. “You want a grandson that badly. I’ll make sure you get one.”

His parents relaxed almost immediately, satisfied with my answer. But Nikolai looked uneasy, like he sensed something shifting beneath the surface.

Then his phone vibrated.

He glanced at the screen. I caught the name.

Vanessa.

A message preview flashed briefly: Some guy’s asking for a quick one. Is that okay?

I started counting silently. One. Two. Three.

Right on cue, Nikolai stood up. “Camille, something urgent came up at the office. Finish dinner here. I’ll come back to pick you up.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He grabbed his coat and left.

The door hadn’t even fully shut before the polite expressions disappeared.

“We’re giving you less than a month,” Mrs. Sokolov said coldly. “If you don’t get pregnant again, don’t bother stepping foot in this house.”

Mr. Sokolov didn’t hold back. “You came from nothing. No family name. No wealth. Both your parents gone. Without Nikolai, you are nothing. Don’t think we’ll put up with you forever.”

Each sentence felt like another blade.

The walls seemed to close in.

And Nikolai?

He never came back to get me.

---

He returned that evening as if nothing had happened—calm, composed, unbothered.

We got into the car. The seats were still warm from sitting under the sun all afternoon.

I kept my gaze on the passing streets. “Done with work?” I asked casually.

There was the slightest pause before he answered. “Yeah.”

His fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel. Slow. Rhythmic. That tiny habit of his always showed when he was in a good mood.

After a while, he glanced at me. “Did my parents say anything after I left?”

I was about to respond when something caught my eye beneath the passenger seat.

A pair of silk stockings.

Ripped.

They weren’t mine.

So this was where he’d gone.

I knew about Vanessa. But I hadn’t imagined he would use this car.

Seven years of marriage, and I’d always tried to be careful, reserved. I wasn’t bold or adventurous. Sometimes I even asked him if he wanted me to change—if he was bored of me.

Back then, he would pull me into his arms and kiss my hair.

“Sweetheart, I only want you. Even if you wore rags, you’d still be the one I’d choose. Don’t try to be someone else for me. I love you exactly as you are.”

Now those words felt like smoke.

I swallowed hard. “What do you think?” I asked quietly.

He assumed I meant his parents. He had no idea I’d already seen enough.

Without warning, he hit the brakes and pulled me into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, Camille. I shouldn’t have left you alone with them. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

His arms wrapped around me like iron bars.

I gently pushed against his chest until he let go.

“Just drive, Nikolai,” I said softly. “I’m tired.”

Because somewhere deep inside, I already knew.

There was nothing left to save.