After successfully proposing, Lucien cherished me like a treasure, always saying I was the perfect woman—a model of virtue and dignity, both a capable homemaker and an elegant lady. He made me believe I was the ideal partner. But looking back now, those words felt hollow.

In seven years of being together, our moments of intimacy had been pitifully rare. Maybe he never actually wanted someone like me. Maybe what he truly craved were women like his sister-in-law, Megan—wild, uninhibited and shameless.

When I got home, I wasted no time. I pulled out a suitcase and started packing, throwing clothes and essentials into it without a second thought. The sight of our shared home, the place I had once carefully decorated with love, now made my skin crawl. I wanted nothing to do with it anymore.

While sorting through the shelves in the study, my hand brushed against something cold and metallic. Hidden in the corner, beneath a stack of old files, was a laptop. It wasn't one I recognized.

Curiosity gnawed at me. I powered it on, only to be met with a password screen. My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

I tried my own birthday first. Incorrect.

I frowned, thinking for a moment before typing in another date—Megan's birthday.

The screen unlocked instantly.

A sinking feeling settled in my gut as the desktop loaded. I opened the hard drive, only to find several gigabytes worth of files, all neatly organized into folders. My breath hitched when I clicked one open.

Photos. Videos. Dozens upon dozens of them.

Lucien and Megan.

My stomach twisted in revulsion as explicit images flashed across the screen. Every file documented their depravity in excruciating detail—various positions, different settings. Megan bound in intricate ways, her body displayed shamelessly for the camera. Countless indecent scenes, enough to make bile rise in my throat.

They had done it everywhere. His office, where Megan, dressed in a tailored secretary outfit, serviced him at his desk. Our home—on the bed, the dining table, the sofa. Even in this very study, where I now stood, disgusted beyond words.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, fighting the urge to be sick. My fingers trembled as I reached for a portable hard drive and copied everything. Every single file.

Just as the transfer finished and I carefully placed the laptop back in its original position, I heard the front door open.

Lucien was home.

It was late. He had probably rushed back from the hospital, afraid that I had returned early from my business trip and would notice his absence.

I quickly composed myself, shutting my suitcase and standing as if I had merely been tidying up.

The moment he stepped inside the study, his gaze swept over the mess I had made while packing. His brows furrowed slightly. "Why are you suddenly tidying up?"

"The place is filthy. I'm cleaning up." My voice was steady, emotionless.

Inside, disgust churned in me. I didn't want to look at him. I didn't even want to acknowledge his existence.

Lucien let out a soft chuckle, stepping closer. "You must be exhausted from your business trip. Why don't you leave it for tomorrow? I can hire a cleaning service." His voice was warm, filled with feigned concern and he even reached out to pull me into his arms.

I shoved him away without hesitation.

"Go take a shower. You stink."

He laughed, completely oblivious to the shift in my demeanor. "Alright, alright, I'll go shower."

Before he left, he turned back with a grin. "You should stop cleaning too. We're getting married soon anyway. We can renovate this place, or better yet, buy a new house."

Lucien launched into an enthusiastic monologue about his vision for our future home. If it were before, I would have eagerly joined in, snuggling against him, discussing furniture arrangements and color schemes with excitement.

But now—my heart was dead. I didn't respond.

Mistaking my silence for exhaustion, he urged me to rest before disappearing into the bathroom. I gave a half-hearted reply and went back to my room.

Lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts spinning relentlessly. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, those images from the laptop resurfaced, suffocating me.

Not long after, the mattress dipped beside me.

Lucien had finished his shower and slid under the covers, wrapping his arms around me from behind. As always, he placed one arm beneath my neck, using himself as a pillow for me to rest on.

This used to make me feel safe. Loved.

Now, all I wanted was to escape.

I took a quiet, steady breath, willing myself to stay composed. But the words burned at my throat, demanding to be spoken.

"Lucien, let's break u—"

Before I could finish, his phone vibrated on the nightstand.

He held me close with one arm while reaching for it with the other. The screen lit up and I caught a glimpse of his expression in the dim light.

He let out a soft cough, as if suppressing something.

Through the reflection in the bedside mirror, I saw it—several explicit photos. The same kind that had been on the laptop.

My blood boiled.

Lucien set his phone down almost immediately, feigning ignorance, but within seconds, he suddenly sat up.

"Quincy, I still have work to do. You go to sleep first."

Lucien's voice was rushed, barely lingering in the room before he turned on his heel and strode out. He didn't even wait for my response. Moments later, the faint sound of the front door opening and closing reached my ears. Then, the creak of the study door.

I sat up in bed, my fingers trembling as I unlocked my phone and opened the surveillance app. My heart pounded as the screen flickered to life.

Lucien was in the study—pulling Megan into his arms.

"What's the rush? Aren't you still injured?" he teased, his voice carrying a coy lilt.

"I need to apply medicine, but I can't reach it. What else am I supposed to do?"

"Alright, let me take care of it for you..."

They were so bold, carrying on just a wall away from me.

The surveillance feed captured every movement, every whisper, yet in my room, I couldn't hear a thing. If I hadn't discreetly moved the living room camera to the study earlier, I would've never seen this disgusting scene at all.

The footage felt like a blade plunging straight into my heart, slicing apart the seven years of love I thought I had with Lucien. I curled up against the mattress, my body wracked with silent tremors.

Megan.

Lucien's sister-in-law.

Lucien's brother had died in a car accident while delivering an insurance policy to him. Before the accident, he had taken out policies for both himself and Lucien, naming only the two of them as beneficiaries. Megan's name was nowhere on them.

No one had expected that trip would be his last.

Left all alone in a strange city, Megan had no one to rely on. Overwhelmed with guilt, Lucien had taken her under his wing, ensuring she never lacked anything. He even arranged for her to work as his personal assistant. But what I had once thought was kindness—what I had defended on his behalf—had turned into something so vile, so revolting, that I felt sick to my stomach.

"Who's better—me or your Quincy?" Megan's voice was a sultry whisper as she lightly bit Lucien's ear.

"Don't bring up that lifeless log. You're way more exciting."

Megan glanced directly at the camera, her eyes filled with smug provocation.

She had already discovered it. And yet, she deliberately didn't tell Lucien. She wanted me to hear this. Every word was meant to drive the knife in deeper.

Tears blurred my vision as I exited the app. Like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, I pulled the blanket over myself, willing the world to disappear.

Lucien and I were truly finished.

In two days, I'd be marrying someone else.

I didn't know when I finally drifted into sleep, but by the time I opened my eyes, Lucien was lying beside me, sleeping soundly—his expression peaceful, as if last night's madness had been nothing but a dream.

I forced myself up, freshened up quickly and resumed packing my things. I didn't want to spend another second in this house.

Lucien, as always, remained oblivious. Before leaving for work, he reminded me about a business banquet tonight and told me to attend.

I hadn't planned on going, but when I heard it was at my family's hotel, I changed my mind. I needed to go there anyway. It had been far too long since I last returned home. To protect Lucien's fragile self-esteem, I had distanced myself from my family, making countless excuses to avoid the place where I truly belonged.

That would end today.

I called a moving company and had all my belongings taken away. I didn't take a single gift from Lucien—left them all behind, untouched. As for the past—the unbearable memories—I burned them to ashes.

Once everything was settled, I headed straight to the top-floor suite of the hotel and took a long, indulgent shower, scrubbing my skin as if I could wash away the filth clinging to me.

By the time Lucien called, I was already dressed and waiting in the hotel lobby.

He didn't keep me waiting long. And he wasn't alone.

Lucien stepped into the grand lobby in a perfectly tailored suit, exuding effortless charm. His tall, handsome frame, sharp features and icy demeanor drew admiring glances from the women around him.

And Megan? She followed closely behind, step by step, never straying too far.

Megan had a delicate, fragile-looking face, framed by soft curls that cascaded down her bare shoulders. She wore a deep V-neck red gown that clung to her curves, revealing a generous expanse of smooth, milky-white skin and drawing the eyes of every man around her.

But Lucien's gaze wasn't on her. The moment he spotted me, his expression brightened. Without hesitation, he strode over and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close before leading me toward his business partners.

His familiar warmth once brought me comfort. Now, it only filled me with conflicting emotions. He introduced me with an air of pride, as if I were a prized possession he was eager to display. Megan was completely ignored—he didn't spare her a single glance.

Amidst the clinking glasses and polite laughter, my gaze unintentionally met hers. Megan smiled, her lips curving ever so slightly, but her eyes told another story. Pure malice gleamed beneath her deceptively gentle expression.

The banquet carried on, reaching its climax as various companies took turns presenting their business strategies. Lucien was well-prepared, leaning back in his chair with a confident smirk as he waited for his moment.

Then, just as he was about to step forward, Megan gasped in panic, her voice trembling.

"Lucien, the USB drive is gone!"

The shift in Lucien's demeanor was immediate. The easy confidence in his features vanished, replaced by an icy glare. His voice dropped, sharp with irritation.

"How careless can you be? You can't even handle something this simple?"

Megan shrank under his harsh tone, her shoulders trembling as if she had reached a breaking point. Then, as if making a monumental decision, she suddenly lifted her hand and pointed—at me.

"It was her! She touched my bag just now!"

A pitiful sob escaped her lips as she took a step closer, voice shaking with desperation.

"Quincy, please, I beg you, just give it back!" Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her distress perfectly crafted. "I know you don't like me, but that USB contains critical company documents. If you don't return it, you'll ruin everything for Lucien!"

A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. The weight of countless eyes settled on me.

My breath caught in my throat. I stared at Megan in utter disbelief.

"I didn't!" My voice was sharp, rising above the whispers. "Stop making things up!"

But Megan didn't give me a chance to defend myself. She lunged forward, reaching for me as if she intended to search me on the spot.

A jolt of panic shot through me. My only hope was Lucien. I turned to him, silently pleading for help, for any sign that he would believe me.

But his expression was unreadable, his brows furrowed in frustration. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, cold.

"Quincy, if you took it, just hand it over. It's almost our turn to present."

A chilling wave surged through me.

Lucien was running out of patience. Megan's frantic search yielded nothing, but instead of questioning her, he acted himself. His grip was rough as he reached for me and in his haste, he pulled too hard—too recklessly.

A sharp tearing sound echoed through the hall.

Gasps filled the air. My dress had ripped open, the fabric giving way with brutal finality.

I stiffened in horror, my hands flying up to clutch my chest. The world around me blurred as mortification burned through my entire being. My pulse roared in my ears.

Then, with a soft clatter, a USB drive tumbled from my clothing, rolling across the polished floor before coming to a stop in the middle of the room.

Silence.

The murmurs started slowly, hushed whispers carrying the weight of accusation and disbelief.

Lucien's gaze fell to the USB, his expression shifting—urgency giving way to something far worse. Disappointment. Disgust.

"Quincy, I never thought you were this kind of person," he said, his voice like a blade of ice, slicing through me without mercy.