[Wow, these two do this every day? Now I’m dying to know what kind of guy her boyfriend is.]

[Probably a man who is obsessed with his woman. Like Hunter Fairchild.]

Among the flurry of comments under Jennifer’s post, one stood out. It was from an account named The Real H.F.

The Real H.F.: [This day was unforgettable.]

The comment section erupted:

[OMG, it’s him! This must be her boyfriend!]

[Seriously? This PDA is next level. So, we’ve been part of their show all along?]

Evelyn’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as she read the comments. There was no mistaking it—The Real H.F. was Hunter’s account.

Such a blatant, public display of affection, even though Evelyn had long given up on Hunter, seeing this still made her chest tighten painfully, her heart aching in spite of herself. Her phone buzzed suddenly. Hunter was calling.

“Hey, honey, you still up?”

“Yeah,” Evelyn said, doing her best to keep her tone neutral.

Hunter’s voice was soft, almost guilty. “I’m sorry, Evie. Things at work got crazy. I don’t think I can make it home tonight. Go sleep without me and stay warm. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

Evelyn forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Coming straight from Jennifer’s bed and now calling to play the doting husband—Hunter really had mastered the art of deceit.

“Okay,” she replied flatly.

“Alright, goodnight, honey. Sleep well.”

After hanging up, Evelyn glanced briefly at the glow from the master bedroom window upstairs. Without another thought, she started her car and drove away.

The next morning, Evelyn knew something was wrong the moment she woke up. Her body felt heavy, her head was pounding and dizziness washed over her. She’d caught a cold. Her immune system had always been weak and the chill from the night before make it worse. She quickly got ready and went downstairs, only to bump into Hunter, who had just returned home.

He was dressed in a crisp new suit and his sharp eyes immediately zeroed in on her pale face. His brows furrowed and he rushed to her side.

“Evie,” he said, his voice filled with worry. “You don’t look good. Are you okay?”

Evelyn didn’t answer and brushed past him, heading for the door. Hunter followed her and before she could protest, he swept her up into his arms.

“This is my fault,” he said, his tone firm. “I should’ve stayed with you last night. We’re going to the hospital right now.”

At the hospital, Evelyn lay back on the bed, her eyes closed as the IV drip worked its way through her veins. Her body felt weak, her energy completely drained.

Hunter sat by her side, his gaze fixed on her. After a long silence, he asked softly, “Evie, are you mad at me?”

“For what?” she murmured.

He sighed, guilt etched into his features. “I’ve been so caught up with work, I haven’t been there for you. I promise I’ll stay with you until you’re better.”

And he did.

Hunter didn’t leave her side all day.

When her hand felt cold from the IV, he held it in his warm palms, his touch gentle and reassuring. He brought her seafood chowder from her favorite restaurant, feeding her spoonfuls with a tenderness that almost seemed genuine. He even shared funny little stories to distract her from the discomfort, keeping her entertained despite her exhaustion.

When the nurse came in to draw blood, Hunter stayed close, hovering protectively over Evelyn. “It’s okay, Evie. You don’t need to worry about a thing. I’m right here,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

He turned to the nurse, his expression serious. “Please be gentle. She’s had a rough night and I don’t want this to add to her discomfort.”

The nurse couldn’t help but smile, clearly charmed. “Mr. Fairchild, you really adore her, don’t you? Mrs. Fairchild’s one lucky woman.”

To outsiders, it seemed like Hunter cared deeply for her, like she was his entire world. If Evelyn hadn’t known about Jennifer or uncovered the truth about his betrayal, she might have been fooled. She might have still believed in his love, completely blind to the lies hiding behind his perfect façade.

“Evie, promise me—if you’re ever feeling unwell, you’ll tell me right away, okay?” Hunter’s voice was soft, almost pleading.

Evelyn studied him, her thoughts drifting back to their wedding day. She remembered asking him if he’d love her forever.

Hunter had held her close that day, trembling as if the question alone shook him. “You are my everything. I will never betray you,” he had said, his voice quivering with emotion.

But now, looking at the man in front of her, Evelyn couldn’t help but wonder if those vows had already crumbled into lies.

“What’s on your mind?” Hunter’s gentle touch brought her back to the present. His fingers brushed her hair as he leaned closer, his brow furrowed with concern. “Are you feeling uncomfortable? Should I call the doctor?”

Evelyn met his gaze and asked quietly, “Hunter, do you love me?”

“Of course, I love you,” he replied without hesitation, though her question made him pause. “Is everything okay?” His eyes narrowed slightly, confusion creeping into his expression. “Why do I feel that you’re not acting like yourself lately, Evie? Is there something wrong?”

Before he could press further, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and his demeanor shifted instantly. “Sorry,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket. “There’s an issue at the construction site for one of our projects. I need to go handle it, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise. Rest up, alright?”

Without waiting for her response, he hurried out the door, leaving Evelyn alone in the quiet hospital room.

Evelyn stared at the door Hunter had just walked through. Before she could process her thoughts, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Jennifer. Reluctantly, she opened it and was greeted with a picture: Jennifer, lounging on a bed in seductive lingerie, her pose casual yet deliberate. The accompanying text read: What excuse did he give you this time?

Evelyn’s grip tightened around her phone, her knuckles turning white. The sharp ache in her chest was almost unbearable, as if someone were slowly carving into her with a dull blade.

This wasn’t the first time Jennifer had reached out. For the past two weeks, she had been sending pictures and messages, each one more brazen than the last. Evelyn had ignored them all, refusing to engage, but her silence seemed to only embolden Jennifer.

She stared at the screen for a long moment before finally setting the phone down. Exhaustion overwhelmed her and she drifted off to sleep.

When she woke up, it was late afternoon. The housekeeper was sitting by her bed and her phone was buzzing again.

This time, the messages were worse.

Photos of a disheveled bed, a close-up of intertwined hands in a foggy shower and a trash can filled with used condoms. Evelyn’s stomach churned, but her expression remained blank as she powered off the screen.

“Let’s go,” she said to the housekeeper.

***

When Evelyn walked into the house, Margaux quickly approached her, taking both of Evelyn’s hands in her own with concern.

“My goodness, sweetheart, you look so pale and thin. Don’t worry, I’ve already asked someone to make you some chicken soup. Once it’s ready, Tessa will bring it up to your room.”

“Thanks,” Evelyn replied, her voice flat and emotionless.

Margaux took a moment to observe her, ensuring Evelyn was in a decent mood before continuing, “I hope you understand. Hunter’s been really busy with work lately. I hope you don’t feel like he’s ignoring you. He loves you, you know.”

Evelyn met her gaze, her eyes calm but unwavering. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice quiet yet piercing, “Busy with work? Really?”

Margaux blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Well, obviously. If it weren’t for work, you know he’d be glued to your side. That boy adores you.”

Evelyn’s lips curled into a faint smile—one that didn’t reach her eyes. She said nothing more, letting Margaux’s words hang in the air as she made her way to the study to catch up on work.

Hunter returned the next morning, dressed in a freshly pressed suit. The moment he stepped inside, his eyes scanned Evelyn’s face anxiously. He rushed to her side, pressing a hand to her forehead.

“No fever. That’s good. Are you feeling okay? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?”

“I’m fine,” she replied evenly.

Relief washed over his features as he pulled her into a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry, Evie. I should’ve stayed with you at the hospital. I feel terrible for leaving you alone.”

Evelyn tilted her head to look at him, her gaze steady. Her eyes landed on the collar of his crisp white shirt.

And there it was—a faint smudge of lipstick, glaringly out of place.

Hunter followed Evelyn's gaze and when his eyes landed on the bright mark, his face turned pale with panic. “Goodness, that clumsy Holly. She did it again,” he stammered, forcing an awkward laugh. “I asked her to iron this shirt and somehow, she got lipstick on it. She should’ve told me if she accidentally stained it. Now, of course, you're misunderstanding this.”

Holly Ingram was Hunter’s personal assistant, a meticulous woman in her forties known for her impeccable professionalism. She had worked with Hunter for years, managing everything from his packed schedule to his wardrobe without a single complaint. Holly was always careful, almost to a fault and the idea that she would “carelessly” leave a lipstick stain was as unlikely as it was absurd.

Hunter’s rushed explanation might have worked on anyone else, but not on Evelyn. She wasn’t naive, nor was she unaware of the games Jennifer liked to play. The lipstick stain was no accident; it was a deliberate provocation and Evelyn knew it.

“It’s okay,” Evelyn said, her tone calm, her expression unreadable. “Just tell her to be more careful next time.”

Hearing her response, Hunter visibly relaxed, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

“Honey,” he said, a smile spreading across his face, “I want to take you somewhere.”

Evelyn glanced at him, noticing the excitement in his eyes. She wasn’t particularly in the mood for surprises and her fatigue from a lingering cold wasn’t helping. She opened her mouth to decline, but before she could say anything, Hunter scooped her into his arms.

“I know you’re not feeling great and probably don’t want to move,” he said, his tone light and playful. “Don’t worry. I’ll carry you. You won’t feel the slightest discomfort—I promise.”

Evelyn didn’t protest, though her heart was far from moved.

The car ride was quiet, with Hunter occasionally glancing at her as if gauging her mood. When they finally arrived, Hunter parked the car and gestured toward the grand theater standing majestically before them.

Evelyn’s brows furrowed. “Why are we here?”

Hunter’s smile widened. “You told me you wanted to see this play a while ago,” he said warmly. “I’ve been so busy that I never got the chance to take you. So here we are! And me keeping that promise.”

Evelyn stared at the theater’s glowing marquee. Yes, she had mentioned her love for this play and she had indeed asked him to join her. But instead of making time for her, he had brushed her off with excuses about work, only for her to later discover that his “work” had been a dinner date with Jennifer.

If she didn’t know the truth, she might’ve been touched by his sincerity tonight.

Inside the theater, the performance was breathtaking. Evelyn’s attention was fully captured by the actors on stage, their emotions raw and palpable.

Hunter, however, barely glanced at the play. His eyes were glued to Evelyn, his gaze soft and indulgent.

To anyone watching, they would’ve looked like the perfect couple.

But the illusion shattered when a familiar voice called out from behind them.

“Mr. Fairchild.”

Evelyn turned her head to see Jennifer standing just a few feet away, her figure wrapped in a sleek, daringly short dress that accentuated her curves. Her lips curled into a smug smile.

“I thought I might’ve been mistaken,” Jennifer said, her tone syrupy sweet. “But it really is you… and Mrs. Fairchild. I just want to say hi.” After a brief pause, Jennifer added, “Well, I should leave now. Don’t want interrupt your little date.”

With that, she sauntered off, her heels clicking against the polished floor, leaving a trail of her signature perfume in her wake.

Hunter stiffened beside Evelyn, his earlier ease vanishing. Moments later, his phone buzzed, the screen lighting up repeatedly. He glanced at it nervously, his leg bouncing slightly as his restlessness grew.

Leaning close to Evelyn, he whispered, “Honey, something came up with work. I need to step out and make a quick call.”

Evelyn gave him a small nod. “Go ahead.”

The moment she finished speaking, Hunter bolted from his seat, disappearing into the hallway.

Evelyn sat alone, her gaze fixed on the stage. After Jennifer appearance, the play had lost its charm. Then her phone buzzed, breaking her concentration. When she checked the screen, her heart sank.

It was a message from Jennifer.

Attached were screenshots of her conversation with Hunter:

[Jennifer: Mr. Fairchild, I wore this dress just for you. If you don’t come out, I might just have to find another man.]

[Hunter: Wait for me outside. You won’t be walking straight by morning.]

The words blurred in Evelyn’s vision as her grip tightened on the phone.

The Hunter she knew had always been reserved, considerate and self-controlled. Even in their most intimate moments, he had put her comfort above all else, making her believe his restraint was born of deep love and respect.

But seeing the way he lost all control for Jennifer, Evelyn realized how naive she had been.

After the play ended, Evelyn returned home alone. The house was quiet, the staff discreetly going about their tasks. Without hesitation, she instructed the housekeeper to remove all the wedding photos from the master bedroom.

The housekeeper was startled with the request.

“Madam, why would you want to get rid of such beautiful pictures?”

“I don’t like them anymore,” Evelyn replied coldly.

Her tone left no room for argument. The staff quickly got to work, removing the photos one by one.

Midway through the task, the front door burst open.

Hunter stormed in, his tie loose, his hair slightly disheveled—a rare sight for the usually immaculate man. His eyes darted around the room until they landed on Evelyn.

“Where are our wedding photos? Why are they gone?” he demanded, his voice trembling with panic.

Evelyn stood there silently, her gaze steady as she watched the man she had once believed she knew.