When I accompany my best friend, Olivia Martin, to the hotel in hopes of catching her partner in the act red-handed, I end up catching my own husband, Wilson Gunner, instead.

I don't break down in tears, nor do I throw a tantrum. In fact, I even shoot a smile at the young lady who's with Wilson.

"Don't worry. I'll keep this a secret."

The lady shoots me a grateful look before stumbling out of the hotel room haphazardly.

Not only does Wilson not feel any sense of shame, but he also looks at me approvingly.

"I knew you were sensible enough to not cause a fuss. Since you're a plastic surgeon, you should know that it's rare to see young ladies who have never gone under the knife nowadays.

"The woman from earlier is au naturale. Besides, she's all clean and pure, so you have nothing to worry about."

I lower my gaze and nod gently in agreement. But I don't plan on telling Wilson that the so-called au naturale woman was still a young man last week.

My best friend, Olivia Martin, was fuming. While pointing at my husband, Wilson Gunner, she yelled, "Wilson, you're not even human! Shannon's been nothing but good to you! How could you—"

"Enough."

I cut Olivia off and turned to Wilson. "We'll go back now. Take your time."

He raised an eyebrow and stepped closer, reaching for my waist, but I sidestepped smoothly.

He didn't seem to mind. Instead, he smiled. "I like you much better this way. You're not like you used to be, making a scene and airing our dirty laundry for the whole world to see every time I had an affair."

His words hit me like a pinprick, breaking the calm I'd carefully built and dredging up memories I'd tried to bury.

I had loved him with everything I had.

Wilson built himself up from nothing, and I stuck by him through every struggle. I scrimped and saved to support his startup, gave up studying abroad, and poured all my energy into him.

Back then, he'd hold me and say, "Shannon, once I make it, I'll give you the best life possible."

But once he succeeded, there were plenty of other women around him.

The first time I caught him cheating, I cried and demanded a divorce. He hugged me and apologized, claiming it was a mistake. I forgave him.

But betrayal was addictive. Once led to countless times.

The last fight was the worst. I had a massive hemorrhage from an ectopic pregnancy.

I lay on the operating table, hearing the doctor declare me critical. I called him over and over, but he ignored me to celebrate his lover's birthday.

When I crawled back from death's door, the first thing I saw was the news of him partying on a yacht with his lover.

At that moment, every ounce of love and hope I had was gone. I accepted my fate and learned to be smart, no longer crying or asking him questions.

Whether he stayed out late or didn't come home at all, I stayed calm.

At first, Wilson found my change unsettling, even alarming. He thought I was plotting something and started coming home more often.

But over time, seeing me truly settled, he returned to his reckless ways and even expected me to clean up his mess.

When his mistress showed up at the door to provoke me, I handled it.

When the paparazzi caught him in a scandal, I buried the story.

Even when he forgot his parents' birthdays, I prepared the gifts and went to beg for their forgiveness.

"I've already taken care of it. No one will find out," I said to Olivia, who was still steaming. "Don't be too upset. He's not worth it."

Olivia looked at me, full of concern. "Shannon, how can you stay so calm after everything he's done?"

I smiled faintly and said nothing.

Some pain couldn't be shared. It had to be carried alone. And some things would always come back to bite you.

After sending Olivia off, I returned to the hotel room.

Wilson was dressed, adjusting his tie in the mirror.

I bent down to pick up a cheap plastic hair clip from the floor. A few light strands were still stuck to it.

Wilson glanced at it. "Throw it away. It's worthless."

I clenched the clip, feeling the cold plastic under my fingers.

Yeah. Worthless.

He had no idea that the innocent woman who wore this worthless hair clip had been lying on my operating table just last week.

What Wilson didn't know was that I was no longer the Shannon Vance who cried over him.

He owed me for that brush with death, for all the love he betrayed, and for the child I couldn't keep. And I intended to make him pay with everything he had.

How?

I'd start with his innocent lover.

…

For the next three days, Wilson didn't come home.

His assistant, Brendon Hart, sent me daily updates on his whereabouts. He was basically only eating, shopping, and watching movies with that woman, Yvette Lawson. They were all lovey-dovey like a couple in the early stages of a romance.

It seemed Wilson was actually smitten. He hadn't cycled through anyone new in days, which, given his history, counted as rare loyalty.

As usual, I worked my shifts on time and performed every surgery meticulously, getting ready for the near future.

In my downtime, I went over the reports Brendon sent. I was so calm, as if Wilson's actions had nothing to do with me.

On a Thursday afternoon, after finishing a grueling five-hour surgery, I returned to my office to rest.

Suddenly, a nurse knocked. "Dr. Vance, there's a Ms. Lawson here to see you."

I paused with a cup in my hand. Realization flashed in my eyes. "Send her in."

Soon, Yvette walked in. She wore a white dress, and her makeup was flawless. She looked innocent and pure, but there was a subtle panic in her eyes.

"Ms. Vance, sorry to bother you." She stood awkwardly at the door, hands clutching her dress.

"Have a seat," I said, gesturing to the chair across from me. "Why did you want to see me?"

After sitting down, Yvette remained quiet for a long moment before speaking cautiously. "Ms. Vance, thank you… for the other day."

"For what?" I sipped my water casually.

"For not exposing me and covering it up."

Her voice trembled. "I was so scared that day. I thought you'd be angry and tell Mr. Gunner…"

I set down my cup and looked at her. "Since I covered for you then, I won't expose you now."

Yvette visibly relaxed, though confusion replaced some of her fear. "Ms. Vance, w-why aren't you angry? Mr. Gunner—"

"Anger changes nothing," I replied with a faint smile. "It's been years. I've been used to this."

She stared at me, tongue-tied, clearly not expecting this reaction.

I studied her anxious expression, then added, "Your surgery went well, and you're recovering well."

Yvette's face was drained of color. She snapped her head up, her eyes wide with shock and fear. "H-How do you know that?"

"Because I performed your gender-affirming surgery myself," I said, matter-of-factly, as if it were nothing unusual.

Yvette froze. Her lips trembled, and she couldn't say a word.

After a long while, she finally came back to her senses, and tears suddenly welled up. "I-I had no choice. I was sick. My doctor said gender-affirming treatment could possibly extend my life, but it would cost a fortune. I was desperate, which is why I…"

She spoke in choked fragments, recounting her situation.

I listened silently.

Yvette wiped her tears and looked at me with a pleading gaze. "Ms. Vance, I know what I did was wrong, but I don't want to die. Please, don't tell Mr. Gunner. Once I get enough money, I'll leave and never bother you again."

I watched her for a moment, then smiled. "You don't have to leave."

She froze. "What?"

"I said I'll keep your secret. That includes this. Wilson is obsessed with you right now. This is your chance."

I looked her in the eye and said word by word, "I'll get you the money, but you have to do one thing for me."

"What do you want me to do?" Yvette asked, wary.

"Reveal that you're transgender when he's riding high," I said with a cold glint in my eyes. "I want him ruined."

Her eyes went wide. She hadn't expected me to ask that.

But for someone like her, reputation was the last thing to worry about.

She hesitated for a long moment while staring at my indifferent expression. Finally, she bit her lip. "Okay. I'll do it."

I nodded, satisfied.

With Yvette as an ally, my plan would progress more quickly.

Wilson could bask in his so-called true love. After all, his good days were numbered.

…

After striking the deal with Yvette, I fully embraced the role of the perfect wife.

When Wilson came home, I'd have his favorite dishes ready.

Once, Yvette brought him her homemade chilled scallops. He praised her in front of me, saying she was gentle and skilled in the kitchen.

I listened without a hint of annoyance and even smiled. "If you like it, I'll learn to cook too."

The next morning, I went to the market and picked up fresh ribeye and plenty of garlic.

Yvette's chilled scallops were briny, but their nature was deeply cooling to the system. The pan-seared ribeye, basted in a rich garlic butter, was deeply warming by nature. It perfectly balanced the chill of the scallops while creating a subtle thermal conflict within the body.

A few days later, Yvette brought Wilson a red wine beef stew, saying it was specially made for him for nourishment.

So I bought some celery and cucumber and went home to make a chilled cucumber-and-celery gazpacho.

Celery helped with digestion, while the cucumber was cooling and hydrating. Together, they perfectly contrasted the warming effect of the red wine beef stew.

When Wilson came home, he drank two bowls of gazpacho, then mentioned Yvette's beef stew. "Yvie's beef stew warms me up more. This one makes me feel cold."

"Lately, you've been staying up late and going out a lot, so I made this gazpacho to help you cool down."

I calmly poured him a third bowl. "Healthy eating isn't just about rich, warming foods. It's about balance."

If Yvette made a creamy potato gratin to thicken his blood and build heat, I'd make an arugula salad to drain his system.

If she made spicy lamb shank, I'd serve sea bass ceviche to lower the heat.

One evening, mid-meal, Wilson set down his cutlery and reached for me. "Shannon, let's have another child."

My body froze instantly. A flicker of subtle pain flashed across my eyes.

I'd had a child once.

I'd been overjoyed, anticipating his arrival. But Wilson's second lover had spiked my milk, causing a miscarriage just to force a divorce.

Wilson was out with her at the time. He only learned of the miscarriage from Brendon.

When he returned, he said, "We can try again later."

After that, he never mentioned it again.

I gently pushed him away and replied calmly, "I've been handling big surgeries lately. I'm too tired to think about that right now."

Rejected, Wilson looked at me with nostalgia. "You know, I like the old you better. As chaotic as you were, at least you were lively. Now, it feels like something's missing."

I looked up at him with a faint smile on my lips. "People change."

He looked at me, hesitating to speak. In the end, he just sighed and said nothing.

He'd forgotten that I became this way because of him.

Some men were never content. After shaping their women into the image they desired, they'd still complain that they were not lively enough.

Wilson never asked about having a child again.

As the days went by, Wilson doted on Yvette more and more.