On my girlfriend's birthday, I was in the middle of preparing a surprise for her when the property management office of our marital home called first.

"Sir, we've received a complaint from another resident," the staff member said. "They claim there's been… quite a bit of noise coming from your unit at night. From you and your wife."

I frowned. The only person I had given a key to that apartment was my girlfriend.

I called her immediately. She answered with a soft, teasing tone, "They must have made a mistake. I'm at my best friend's place."

"Alright," I said evenly. "Enjoy yourself."

After hanging up, I opened the smart home system without hesitation and remotely locked every door and window from the outside.

Then I dialed the police.

"Hello, I'd like to report an unlawful entry."

The moment I ended the call, I drove straight to the apartment.

I had barely pulled up downstairs when two disheveled figures were dragged out by the police.

The woman was Jess Kacher—my girlfriend.

The man was Sonny Peterson—my brother in all but blood, the one who had grown up with me.

I had spent an entire day and night on an international flight just to rush back and give Jess a birthday surprise.

Now, the surprise had turned into a shock.

I sat in the car, my body rigid, my mind completely blank.

Jess angrily shook off the officer's grip, loudly arguing about something. Then she pulled out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen.

A second later, my phone rang.

"Grayson! What the hell is wrong with you? You called the police on me?"

The moment I answered, her voice was sharp and frantic—none of her usual coquettish sweetness remained.

Leaning against the car door, I watched her twisted expression under the harsh lights not far away and replied calmly, "What do you mean? I reported someone for breaking into our apartment. Are you in our apartment?"

Silence fell on the other end.

A few seconds later, she stiffly changed the subject. "I'll explain everything later! Just tell the police it's a misunderstanding and have them let us go first!"

I said nothing, simply listening to the panic laced in her breathing.

Her tone softened, a trace of barely perceptible pleading slipping in. "Grayson… Thanksgiving is in a couple of days. Didn't we agree to visit my parents? Don't make this a big deal."

Ten years together—she was betting I would indulge her unconditionally.

She handed the phone to a nearby officer, and I heard her urgent voice say, "Officer, it's my boyfriend—he'll explain!"

I told the officer it was someone I knew, and to let it go.

A faint, meaningful chuckle came from the other end. "Kid, you ought to wise up."

Then the call ended.

I knew exactly what he meant.

But knowing something is one thing. Seeing it with your own eyes is another. When betrayal stands before you in the flesh, wearing the two faces you know best, the impact is enough to crush you entirely.

I saw Sonny holding Jess's hand with a wounded expression, murmuring something softly. She kept patting his back, comforting him.

The scene was both blinding and absurd.

Just two days ago, Sonny had been on the phone with me, helping me plan a surprise for her, grinning as he said, "Hurry up and marry Jess already. I'm waiting to drink at your wedding."

I pulled out my phone and, as if possessed, opened his social feed.

The latest post—uploaded an hour ago—was a grid of photos: a birthday cake and red wine.

Even though the background had been blurred, I recognized it instantly as our apartment.

The caption read: [She said she only spends important days with me. She and I—that's what 'us' really means.]

My fingers stiffened as I scrolled down.

Last holiday, Jess had told me she had to work overtime on a last-minute project, pulling an all-nighter. On Sonny's feed, there were two intertwined hands, fireworks lighting up the riverside behind them. On the woman's wrist was a small red mole—one I knew all too well.

On the last Valentine's Day, Jess had said her best friend was heartbroken and needed company. Sonny had posted a photo of two movie tickets—Before Sunset—with the caption: [Watching an old film with the one I love.]

And then there were the 14th of every month, when Jess always found one excuse or another to avoid seeing me… so that was where she had been. With Sonny.

What else was there left not to understand?

Not far away, the police seemed to finish lecturing them and began to leave.

Sonny took Jess's hand, as if ready to lead her away.

In that moment, I decided to give her one last chance.

I called her.

Sonny noticed. His brows furrowed, and he said irritably, "Don't answer. You promised today was just for me. If it weren't for him meddling, we'd be having a romantic night right now."

Jess immediately coaxed him like a child. "Alright, alright, I won't answer. It's my fault. I'll listen to you."

And just like that, she let her phone vibrate wildly in her pocket without even glancing at it.

The last trace of warmth in my heart faded with each pulse of that ringing.

Still unwilling to give up, I hung up and called again.

This time, Sonny reached straight into her pocket, snatched the phone, and pressed the end call button.

Jess didn't show the slightest hint of anger. Instead, she pinched his cheek affectionately. "You're so jealous. Didn't I tell you already? Everything I have is yours—except the title."

Sonny let out a soft laugh and pulled her closer. "Including your love?"

Jess nodded without hesitation, her voice carrying clearly to where I was.

"I stopped loving Grayson a long time ago. But we've been together for so many years—I can't just abandon him like that. Sonny, don't be jealous of him, okay?"

The two of them held each other tightly.

Sonny lifted his head, looked past Jess's shoulder, and raised his brow in the direction of my car.

He had noticed me long ago.

Which meant everything just now—the words, the performance—had been meant for me.

The last illusion in my heart—that maybe she had her reasons—shattered completely.

I pulled out my phone and called the property management office.

I had them replace the entire smart lock system for my apartment.

All of Jess's access permissions—fingerprints, passcodes, backup keys—were revoked and completely invalidated.

By the time I finished, the elevator doors slid open.

I walked into the empty apartment. Without turning on the lights, I went straight to the study and dropped heavily into the chair.

In the darkness, I tried to make sense of the past ten years.

We had gone from campus couple to wedding plans. The invitations had already been sent. Our parents had long since begun treating each other as family.

How was I supposed to explain this now?

I felt a surge of irritation.

I pulled open the desk drawer, intending to find a cigarette, but my hand brushed against a cold metal box.

Jess had left it there. She'd said it contained work-related items and told me not to touch it.

As if possessed, I opened it.

Inside was a stack of photographs. In them, Jess and Sonny were naked, entangled together—on the large bed in our bedroom.

I flipped through them one by one, my fingers trembling. Until one photograph made the blood in my body run cold.

In the corner of the frame was my sleeping profile.

It hit me all at once—at some point, Jess had developed a habit of bringing me a warm glass of milk every night. She said it helped me sleep.

So that was the reason. Not only had I been betrayed—I had been turned into a prop. A sleeping spectator in their filthy game.

My stomach churned violently. I rushed into the bathroom and vomited until I was dizzy. So this was what it meant to be sick to the core.

Just then, the door lock beeped—the sound of a correct passcode unlocking the door.

I wiped my mouth and stepped out, coming face-to-face with two startled expressions.

"Grayson? When did you get back? Weren't you on a business trip?"

Jess's eyes darted, unable to meet mine.

Jess didn't seem to notice at all that both she and Sonny had several glaring hickeys on their necks.

"I came back early to celebrate your birthday," I said evenly. "I called you, but you didn't answer."

She immediately grew flustered, rushing to explain, "I had a little too much to drink. Sonny just brought me home, that's all."

Sonny, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. He stepped forward and casually draped an arm over my shoulder, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Grayson, you came back without saying a word? I could've thrown you a welcome party," he said with a grin. "What, don't you consider me your bro anymore?"

His other hand dug sharply into my flesh.

The sudden pain made me instinctively try to shove him away—but before I could even touch him, he reacted as if he had anticipated it all along. With exaggerated force, he stumbled backward, crashing straight into the tall glass display cabinet in the living room.

"Sonny!"

Jess's scream and her movement came at the same instant. She rushed forward to catch the swaying Sonny, but her body slammed hard into mine in the process.

The impact sent me staggering backward. I fell, my palm hitting the floor—onto a scatter of shattered glass. Countless sharp fragments drove instantly into my skin, and blood began to pour out. She didn't even spare me a glance.

Instead, she held Sonny tightly, checking him over in panic. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where does it hurt?"

Sonny raised his hand pitifully. A thin cut from a flying shard marked the back of it.

"Grayson suddenly pushed me so hard," he complained. "It scared me to death."

Jess's anger ignited in an instant, ready to lash out at me, until she saw my hands braced on the ground, blood flowing freely.

She froze. The fury on her face was forcibly restrained as she walked over, reluctantly pulling me to my feet.

"I know you're upset I came home late," she said. "But you shouldn't have pushed Sonny like that. You went too far."

Her tone was full of reproach.

I wanted to explain—to tell her this was all Sonny's act.

But right then, Sonny let out a perfectly timed groan. "Ah… it hurts…"

Jess's heart tightened immediately. She snapped at me, "Let's go to the hospital first."

Pain beaded sweat across my forehead. I didn't bother arguing anymore.

Although she supported me as we walked, her gaze kept drifting toward Sonny.

When we reached the underground parking garage, I reached for the front passenger door.

"Hmph."

A soft scoff came from the side—Sonny.

Jess immediately pressed down on my hand and pushed me toward the back seat.

"The back is more spacious. Your hands are injured—sit in the back."

Meanwhile, Sonny naturally opened the front passenger door and slid into the seat. He looked at me, his eyes filled with the smug satisfaction of a victor. With his actions, he was staking his claim.

That was the moment my patience finally snapped.

"Jess, let's break up."

Her body stiffened visibly. She shot me an annoyed glare.

"It's just a seat. Is that really necessary? Grayson, stop throwing a tantrum! Are you getting in the car or not? If you're not, I'm leaving. It's my birthday—are you really going to make me upset today?"

I met her evasive gaze and asked, "Don't you have anything to explain about you and Sonny?"

"I…"

Her eyes darted, her lips trembling.

Sonny called out again, "Jess, my head feels dizzy… my wound really hurts…"

She glared at me, embarrassed and angry. "You're even jealous of your own buddy now? I don't think your hands hurt that much—you still have the energy to spout nonsense! I'm taking Sonny to the hospital first. You stay here and reflect on yourself!"

Even at this point, she still refused to tell the truth.

My hands were bleeding, a small pool of blood already forming on the ground. And yet, she acted as if she couldn't see it at all.