In the middle of the night, Catherine suddenly developed a high fever.

Her head felt heavy and muddled, sweat soaked through her cotton pajamas, and her entire body was cold and trembling.

3:00 AM.

Enduring the unbearable discomfort, she reached out with trembling fingers and dialed Leandro’s number.

The call was answered in less than a second, but no one spoke on the other end—only the sound of rustling clothes came through.

“Leandro... I really... can’t take it anymore...”

A coquettish voice, soft and flirtatious, came clearly through the receiver, stabbing into Catherine’s ears. Then came a man’s familiar voice, husky and laced with teasing.

“Be good. Didn’t you just say you could?”

The breathless moans of desire laced with flirtation scraped at Catherine’s nerves like knives, stabbing straight into her chest.

Three full hours of torment.

Every second felt like being fried in oil, swallowed by flames—an excruciating torture that tore at her soul.

Ding.

The call ended abruptly, and a message popped up a second later.

It was a screenshot of a chat.

In the image, Nina straddled a bed in black lace bunny lingerie, her delicate figure posing seductively as she stared into the camera with sultry eyes.

[Your little bunny is waiting obediently for her master~]

Beneath the photo, Leandro’s plain black profile responded with just three curt words.

[Wait for me.]

A crushing pain spread through Catherine’s chest like a thousand tiny needles.

So that was it. He had changed his mind after seeing this photo.

Curled up under the blanket, she began to cry softly. A dull ache throbbed at her temples.

She had thought that after seeing the ambiguous marks Nina bore before, she would have gotten used to it and become numb.

But the agony still came, overwhelming and deep, seeping into her bones.

Only after the tears had dried did she force herself to close her eyes and switch off the screen.

But the relentless fever kept her awake the entire night.

—

The next morning, Leandro returned with their son—and a woman.

“Sweetheart, this is Nash's new Italian teacher. She’ll be staying with us temporarily, but she’ll move out in a few days.”

“Good morning, Madam. I’m Nash's Italian teacher. Sorry for the sudden intrusion.”

Catherine looked at Nina, whose eyes brimmed with undisguised provocation.

She didn’t take the outstretched hand.

The room fell into a brief, tense silence.

Nina lowered her eyes and let her voice tremble with apparent hurt.

“Madam, am I... not welcome here?”

Leandro paused, then spoke with a heavier tone. “Sweetheart?”

When she still didn’t respond, their son Nash scowled and stomped up to grab Catherine’s hand.

“This is my favorite teacher! Mommy, you’re a grown-up! Don’t you know how to be polite?”

The rebuke hit her square in the chest.

Catherine stared at their forcibly joined hands, then finally took Nina’s hand in hers.

“Madam, I’ll be in your care for the next few days.”

Nina’s voice was sweet and sincere—but her grip was cruel.

Her sharp nails dug deep into Catherine’s palm, drawing blood.

The sudden pain made Catherine instinctively shake her hand free, but Nina took the chance to stumble backward and crash to the floor.

“Ah! That hurts!”

Tears spilled from her eyes in an instant, her reddened gaze brimming with sorrow.

“If Madam didn’t want me to stay, you could’ve just told me. I wouldn’t have imposed. I never thought you’d dislike me this much...”

Her voice was a blend of heartbreak and grievance—three parts sadness, seven parts accusations.

Leandro’s eyes flashed with concern as he stepped forward to help her up.

He swept his gaze at Catherine and intoned coldly, “Catherine, that was too harsh.”

“Yeah, Mommy! That was way out of line. How could you push someone like that? What if she got hurt?”

Nash shielded Nina like a little lion cub guarding his own, checking her anxiously for injuries.

Their accusatory words crushed down on Catherine’s heart.

She stared blankly at the three of them, united on the same side, as the stinging pain in her palm spread through her chest.

Nash quickly brought over the first-aid kit, his small face twisted in anger.

“Aunt Nina, Mommy didn’t mean it. Don’t blame her. She’s always acting weird, fiddling with those broken things. Even the kids at kindergarten say she’s gone crazy from it.”

A wave of pressure surged in her chest. Catherine turned and walked away, forcing herself not to hear another word.

Soon... she would be gone.

She clenched her injured hand, stood up, and headed toward the backyard.

But a voice called after her from behind.

“Miss Flores.”

Catherine froze in her tracks.

She turned around to see Nina standing behind her, a smug expression on her face.

“Miss Flores, I wonder... did you enjoy the little performance just now? Your husband and son both trust me completely. That must’ve stung, didn’t it?”

She leaned in, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

“It was actually my idea to move in. I just acted a little spoiled with Leandro, and told him my mother’s death anniversary was coming up and how scared I was to be alone in the villa, and he couldn’t bear to refuse me. So he agreed to let me stay here for a while.”

Each word was like a dagger, and Catherine trembled from head to toe.

Smack!

A loud, crisp slap echoed through the hallway.

Nina’s cheek instantly turned red and swollen.

“That’s enough! Enough! Enough!”

Catherine’s eyes were bloodshot. Her body swayed before she collapsed to the floor, sharp pain shooting up from her ankle.

Clutching her ears, she fled into the room and slammed the door behind her.

Behind her, Nina gently touched her stinging cheek, fury darkening her eyes.

"Just you wait Catherine," she whispered through gritted teeth.

—

That night, Catherine curled up in bed, a storm of emotions crashing through her chest—rage, grief, helplessness.

She couldn’t sleep. After tossing and turning, she finally got out of bed and went downstairs to get some water.

The villa was eerily quiet, almost too quiet. A strange unease began to swell in her chest.

The door to the backyard was ajar.

Something urged her forward—an instinct she couldn’t explain.

And then she heard it. The unmistakable sound of water sloshing, mixed with soft moans and wind.

Her whole body froze. It was as if her blood had started to run backward.

Through the crack in the door, she could clearly see two figures locked in a passionate kiss.

She didn’t know how long it lasted, but eventually, Leandro shoved Nina away. His eyes were still burning with lust, but his face was gloomy.

“Are you insane? This is the Kennedy residence. Catherine is still here. Didn’t I tell you—my bottom line is to keep this away from her? Have I spoiled you so much lately that you think you can do whatever you want? First, you insist on staying here, and now you’re seducing me here?”

But Nina didn’t answer.

Instead, she dropped to her knees and leaned in, rubbing her face against him with unrelenting determination.

Leandro’s low grunt of pleasure only encouraged her further. She let out soft, coquettish gasps as she continued.

His breathing grew heavier, voice laced with strained desire.

“You little vixen...”

Nina just smiled, unbothered.

“Do you like it, Leandro? I wore this just for you.”

Her answer was met with his ragged breath—his restraint vanishing.

“Tighten your legs. I’m going to give you what you want.”

The next moment, the two of them were entangled, skin against skin, consumed by lust and desire.

Catherine couldn't take it any longer.

She bit down on her lip, hard enough to draw blood, and turned to leave—only to collide with someone at the corner.

It was Nash, rubbing his sleepy eyes, looking groggy and confused.

His pupils shrank. His gaze darted around nervously, trying to avoid her eyes.

Panicked, he grabbed her wrist, his voice soft and pleading.

“Mommy, I’m so sleepy... can you read me a bedtime story?”

He clung tightly to her hand and pulled her away, only releasing her when they reached the living room.

'Thank God. Mommy didn’t see anything.' He thought.

But Catherine felt like her heart was being sliced open, one cut at a time.

Her beloved husband had his mistress hidden away. And now even her precious son was helping cover for them.

Perfect. Just perfect!

She bit her lip harder, the taste of blood spreading in her mouth.

Nash dragged her back to the bedroom, pulled a book at random from the bookshelf, and asked her to read to him.

As she opened it, a folded drawing slipped out and landed on the floor.

Her eyes caught on it instantly.

It was Nash's school art assignment—a family portrait.

But in the picture... were Leandro, Nash, and Nina.

No mother.

Just the three of them.

Catherine stood there frozen, her hand trembling as she reached for the paper.

But Nash was faster. He snatched it away before she could touch it.

A sharp pain pierced her heart.

She forced herself to smile, but her voice shook despite her best efforts.

“Nash... who did you draw in that picture?”

Nash hurriedly hid the drawing behind his back, his small voice tinged with guilt and unease.

“N-No, it’s nothing...just a regular school assignment.”

Catherine looked at her son, catching the guilty flicker in his eyes. Disappointment welled up inside her.

Even now, he was still lying to her.

She took a deep breath and held out her hand toward him, her tone firmer than intended.

“Let Mommy have a look.”

But Nash shook his head hard and stepped back, keeping the drawing hidden behind him.

His resistance stabbed at Catherine’s heart.

She got up and reached for the paper, but Nash grew impatient and shoved her—hard.

“Ahh!”

She had been sitting on the edge of the bed, and the sudden push sent her crashing to the floor.

The vase on the nearby nightstand toppled over and smashed against her temple, leaving a terrifying gash.

Blood streamed from her brow, dripping into her eyes, burning them with pain.

“Nash! What are you doing?!”

Leandro had entered the room at some point. His face twisted with panic as he rushed to help her up, pulling her into his arms.

But when he saw the blood pooling at her temple, his voice turned sharp with anger.

“Nash, why did you push your mother?”

Nash’s eyes welled up with tears. But he stubbornly raised his chin and said stiffly, “She tried to take my drawing! I didn’t mean to hurt her...”

“What drawing?”

After a moment of hesitation, Nash reluctantly pulled out the hidden picture and handed it to Leandro.

“It’s just the family portrait assignment from school... Daddy and Teacher Nina helped me with it...”

Catherine could clearly feel the moment Leandro saw the drawing.

His body stiffened, and the arm wrapped around her tightened instinctively.

He quickly shoved the drawing back at Nash, urging him to put it away as if he were afraid she'd see it.

Only when Nash carefully tucked the picture into his backpack did Leandro finally relax a little.

“You still can’t push your mother,” he scolded. “Now apologize to her.”

“...I’m sorry, Mommy.”

Catherine stood frozen, watching the whole scene play out like a carefully rehearsed drama. Her heart turned cold.

So the “family portrait” was a group project completed by the three of them.

And she, the mother, the wife, had been kept in the dark like a complete fool.

When she didn’t respond to Nash’s apology, Leandro assumed she was simply in pain.

He leaned closer and gently blew on her wound with concern.

“Does it hurt? Let me take you to get it dressed.”

As he bent over, his collar slipped open, revealing faint traces of lipstick and love bites. The scent of perfume mixed with sweat hit her sharply in the nose.

Catherine clenched her fists at her sides and turned her face away, pushing him off.

“No need. I’ll stay in the study tonight. Didn’t you say the company’s facing a major decision and needs my divination?”

Without waiting for a reply, she lowered her gaze and walked out of the room.

She didn’t want to see the marks another woman had left on her husband—not the scent, not the evidence, nothing.

It only made her sick.

Leandro watched her retreating back, an unfamiliar unease stirring in his chest.

He suppressed the feeling, pressing his fingers to his brow with a heavy sigh.

“Nash,” he said, his tone low. “You have to be more careful around Mommy. She must never find out about this, understand?”

“...I understand, Daddy.”

—

Catherine stayed in the study all night, performing a full divination session.

It wasn’t until morning light streamed through the windows that she finally stopped, exhausted.

She stared at the result on the table. Her heart gave a violent jolt.

“Great misfortune.”

Her brows furrowed.

Even if they were no longer truly husband and wife, she didn’t want to see Leandro make a costly mistake. She resolved to warn him before she left—if only for the sake of caution.

But before she could even open the study door, she saw Leandro and Nash rushing toward her in a panic.

“Catherine! Come quick!”

They pulled her into a guest room. Her face turned pale the moment she saw the unconscious figure lying in bed.

Nina.

“She suddenly collapsed this morning,” Leandro said, his face filled with worry. “The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong. Can you divine what’s causing it—and how to treat it?”

Catherine heard the urgency in his voice.

And without thinking, she immediately refused.

“No. I can’t.”