I locked eyes with Cayden, my silence cutting through the air like a blade. His gaze turned red, the vulnerability in his expression almost unbearable, as he pulled me into his arms. His voice trembled as he spoke, each word laced with desperation.

"Kylie, you don’t think this is mine, do you?" His eyes searched mine, pleading for understanding.

"After all these years, no one knows better than me how much you hate strawberry flavor. I’ve made sure nothing like that ever comes near you or this house. This… it can’t be mine."

He tightened his hold, his heartache tangible, as he pressed a gentle kiss to my temple.

"My dear, you are my life. Hurting you is unthinkable."

His clear, unwavering gaze met mine—earnest and free of deceit.

"If you don’t believe me, I’ll go back to the company right now, find out who this belongs to, and fire them on the spot."

He moved as if to leave, his resolve evident, but I reached out and caught the hem of his shirt.

"There’s no need," I murmured, forcing a faint smile to steady the storm within me.

He stopped immediately, his eyes scanning my face for reassurance. I met his gaze and spoke deliberately, my voice calm, each word a careful weight.

"I believe you wouldn’t lie to me."

Relief washed over him, softening his features. He smiled faintly and brushed his hand through my hair before heading to the kitchen. Without hesitation, he began preparing my lunch for tomorrow—a routine etched into our lives over six years of marriage.

From the second-floor railing, I leaned and watched him, his movements practiced and meticulous. This familiar sight once filled me with warmth. No matter how busy his day was, Cayden always made time to cook for me.

He’d wake early to pick fresh ingredients and personally prepare my meals, ensuring I had something homemade for work.

Colleagues would often tease me, "Mrs. Jenkins, with all your wealth, why not hire a private chef? Why let Mr. Jenkins waste his time in the kitchen?"

I’d laugh, repeating his simple response. "Kylie likes what I cook."

As long as I liked it, he’d do it without hesitation.

But now, watching him, my heart clenched with a dull ache. How could he forget?

On our wedding day, I’d looked into his eyes and told him just one thing, "If you ever cheat on me, don’t explain. Just admit it and leave."

I would vanish from his world entirely. No warnings. No farewells.

Thunder growled outside, a deep rumble that shook the glass. After ensuring I was asleep, Cayden tucked the blanket around me with painstaking care. His hand hovered for a moment, as if reluctant to leave, before he shifted to lying beside me.

Just as he was about to wrap an arm around me, my phone buzzed.

Under the dim glow of the bedside lamp, his brow furrowed as he glanced at the screen. His lips pressed into a thin line before his gaze flickered back to my face, peaceful and feigned in slumber.

Quietly, he slipped out of the room, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet.

I strained to hear as his voice floated up from downstairs, low and clipped.

"I told you not to call me after work." His irritation was barely restrained. "If there’s something urgent, bring it up tomorrow at the office. Don’t disturb me and my wife—" A sharp pause. "What? You’re at my house?"

The call ended abruptly.

Moments later, the front door slammed shut.

I sat up, my heart heavy as I walked to the French window. From here, I had a clear view of the villa entrance. My eyes immediately landed on her—a young woman standing in the downpour, her dress soaked and clinging to her form like second skin.

The front door swung open, and Cayden stepped out, holding an umbrella. His expression was tense, but his voice was measured, almost cold.

"Why are you here? Didn’t I make myself clear? Don’t come near my house. Especially not in front of my wife."

The girl, Sydney, looked up at him with wide, glistening eyes, her lips trembling as though she was the victim.

"Cayden," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I’m afraid of thunder. I… I missed you."

Before he could respond, she rose on her tiptoes, her arms curling around his neck as she pressed her lips to his.

Cayden stiffened, the umbrella tilting slightly as rain cascaded onto his shoulder. One hand remained on the umbrella, but the other instinctively found her waist, steadying her.

"This is nonsense," he muttered, his voice firm yet lacking conviction.

But he didn’t push her away. He let her kiss him.

When she finally pulled back, he sighed, his brow furrowing slightly. Reaching out, he wiped the rain from her face with a tenderness that made my stomach twist.

"How did you get through rainy nights before you met me?" His tone carried a reluctant gentleness.

Sydney shivered, her soaked dress leaving nothing to the imagination. Her curves were on full display, and for a brief moment, Cayden’s gaze lingered before he quickly looked away. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"You’re drenched," he said, his voice quieter now. "You’ll get sick if you stay like this."

She hesitated for only a moment before her lips curved into a delicate smile. "Cayden, can I come inside to take a shower?"

Faced with the girl’s plea, Cayden’s expression turned icy.

"No." His tone was resolute. "It’s too risky if my wife sees you here. I’ll take you to a hotel."

Without another word, he stepped inside, grabbed his suit jacket, and draped it over Sydney’s trembling shoulders. Then, with a practiced indifference, he tossed her the car keys.

"Wait in the car," he said curtly, handing her the umbrella before turning back toward the house.

Inside, his steps faltered as he approached the bedroom. He flicked the switch, but before the room could plunge into darkness, my voice broke the silence.

"...Don’t turn off the lights."

Cayden froze, his hand was still on the switch.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he turned to look at me, his smile strained and unconvincing.

"Dear, when did you wake up?"

I sat up, feigning a drowsy yawn, and tilted my head at him. "Honey, what are you doing standing there? Why don’t you come to bed?"

My eyes lingered on his suit, the crisp lines a stark contrast to the pajamas he’d been wearing earlier. My brow furrowed.

"Weren’t you in pajamas just now? Did you need to go out for something?"

"No, not at all," he said quickly, his voice steady but his eyes too careful. "I was just trying on what I’ll wear tomorrow. Now I’ll sleep with my wife."

His attempt at nonchalance felt rehearsed, but I didn’t press further. Not yet.

He leaned down, brushing a hand over my hair. "Why don’t you sleep first? I’ll join you in a minute."

I shook my head and gave him a faint smile. "No, I’ll wait. I want to see you lie down beside me."

A flicker of unease crossed his face before he nodded. Pretending nothing was amiss, he changed back into his pajamas and slid into bed, pulling me into his arms with practiced ease.

"My dear," he murmured, his voice soft and warm, "your husband will hold you until you fall asleep."

I closed my eyes, letting his words wash over me. But no matter how tightly he held me, I couldn’t escape the image seared into my mind—the sight of him standing in the rain, allowing Sydney’s lips to touch his.

Sydney. The secretary who had been with his company for two years.

Before this, I never suspected that there was anything between Sydney and Cayden.

After we got married, Cayden made it clear—he only employed male assistants to reassure me. He ensured no woman ever got too close.

The day Sydney applied for a job was sheer coincidence. I dropped by the office to deliver some fruit to Cayden.

When I learned she wasn’t hired, I thought it was the end of the matter. But then Sydney collapsed on the ground, tears streaming down her face.

"Please, Mr. Jenkins, if I don’t get this job, I’ll die."

Cayden remained unmoved, his expression cold and distant. But then Sydney ran to the rooftop of the company, her voice ringing out in defiance.

"Cayden, I meet all the requirements! Why should I miss this job just because I’m a woman? I won’t accept it!" Her trembling voice carried an edge of desperation. "If you don’t hire me, I’ll jump right now."

The situation was spiraling. I could already see how this could tarnish the company’s reputation. Reluctantly, I urged Cayden to give her a chance.

From that moment on, Cayden treated her with strict professionalism, keeping her in a background role. He never softened, and I never saw a reason to doubt him. So when—when did this start?

My thoughts churned as I lay in bed with Cayden that night, holding his hand tighter than usual. He seemed distracted, his tension palpable.

At one point, he sighed softly, reaching for his phone. He typed quickly, the faint light casting shadows across his face.

I squinted, barely making out the message, "Sydney is in my car. Take her to a hotel—I can’t leave right now."

His assistant’s reply came swiftly. Cayden exhaled in relief, put his phone aside, and turned to me with a forced tenderness.

"Dear, sleep well. I’m here."

But sleep didn’t come easily.

The next day at the office, I sensed something was off immediately. The atmosphere was tense, uneasy. Sydney had caused a commotion, her desk a mess as colleagues hovered around her, trying to console her.

"Sydney, did you have a fight with your boyfriend?" one teased, their tone lighthearted.

"Why are your eyes so red and swollen? Don’t tell me your boyfriend kept you up all night?" another chimed in with a smirk.

"Enough nonsense!" someone else snapped, clearly annoyed. "Can’t you see Sydney’s upset? It must be her boyfriend’s fault. Men are all the same—horrible!"

At that moment, I walked in, and the chatter abruptly died. All eyes turned to me—and then to Cayden behind me.

Sydney’s red, swollen eyes locked onto him, a spark of something unreadable flashing across her face.

"You’re right," she said coldly, her voice sharp as a blade. "All men are bad. They’re all liars."

She lingered on those words, her tone deliberately ambiguous. Then, as if driving the point home, she turned to the male assistant, her behavior suddenly playful, almost flirtatious, clearly meant to provoke.

From the beginning to the end, Cayden showed no outward reaction. But I could feel the tension in his body—he was holding something back, something unspoken.

As usual, he made coffee for me and brought it to my office.

"Baby," he said softly, his voice smooth as he handed me the cup, "I put more sugar in today’s coffee. I thought you’d like it."

He hugged my waist from behind, his touch warm and familiar.

"You go ahead," he continued, his tone casual. "I’ll ask my assistant to heat up your meal at noon."

I nodded, appreciating the gesture, and he quickly moved to his work.

But as we passed by Sydney’s desk, Cayden’s voice cut through the air, cold and commanding.

"Come to my office."

I glanced at the colleagues nearby, catching snippets of their conversation.

"Sydney’s clearly upset today. Mr. President is going to give her another talking-to."

"Don’t even get me started. The last time they were in there for hours, arguing the whole time. When she came out, her eyes were all red, and she was stumbling like she could barely walk. Poor Sydney... still hasn’t quit being his secretary. If it were me, I would’ve left long ago."

"Same here. That man only pampers his wife. He doesn’t even notice us."

I couldn’t help but smirk at their words.

Really?

I hesitated for a moment before opening the monitoring terminal on my laptop. After a few quick adjustments, Cayden’s figure suddenly appeared on the screen.

This was the camera I had purchased just a few days ago—purely on a whim, intending to test its clarity by placing it in Cayden’s office. I hadn’t expected it to come in handy like this.

The office door was closed, and Sydney was sitting there, sulking with a cold expression. Cayden sighed, his tone soft yet laced with frustration, as he pulled her gently into his arms.

"You were trying to get under my skin again, weren’t you?"

Sydney pouted, clearly upset. "I told you," Cayden continued, his voice coaxing, "there was a special situation last night. My wife woke up, and I couldn’t leave."

He paused, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Don’t be angry. I’ll stay home tonight, use the excuse of a business trip, and be with you all night, okay?"

Sydney looked up at him, her eyes filled with doubt. "Who knows if you’re lying to me again?"

She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. "You spend all your time with your wife, cooking for her and doting on her. Why can’t I ever get a taste of the food you make?"

She hit him playfully but with a pointed edge in her voice. "You’d better believe I’m going to eat all the food you brought for Kylie at noon today."

Cayden’s expression darkened instantly, his demeanor turning cold. "You dare?"

His voice grew firmer, almost threatening. "I’ve told you, don’t bring our personal matters into Kylie. If my wife hears any rumors, I won’t just fire you—I’ll make sure we never cross paths again. You’d better watch yourself."

Seeing the genuine anger in his eyes, Sydney froze. Her bravado faltered, and she quickly reached for his hand, her tone softer.

"I was just kidding," she murmured, her voice filled with a touch of fear. "I was upset last night. You left me, and you didn’t even bother to comfort me…"

Seeing Sydney's vulnerable state, a possessive gleam flickered in Cayden’s eyes. Without a word, he cupped the back of her head and kissed her with an intensity that left no room for hesitation.

Her soft moan escaped as she responded, her hands urgently tugging at his tie and unbuckling his belt.

"...Is the door locked?" Cayden’s voice was hoarse, his breath ragged.

She nodded quickly, her eyes wide with innocence, "It’s been locked for a while. Your wife won’t find out."

I stared at the computer screen in disbelief, tears welling up in my eyes.

Their impatience was palpable. They couldn’t even wait for the night to be alone; they were already losing themselves in each other’s arms in the office. Disheveled, with no regard for the consequences.

I fought back the urge to rush in, yet I couldn’t look away. I watched the entire thing unfold, silently recording the scene as evidence.

Cayden... so this is what you’ve been hiding from me all along.

Over an hour later, they lay in each other's arms, panting, tangled in the aftermath.

"Hate it," Sydney murmured, her voice weak with exhaustion. "You always bully me like this... why don’t you treat your wife the same way? My waist hurts so much, and my legs feel like they won’t hold me up..."