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..."

Cayden lounged casually in his chair, a playful smile curving his lips as he cupped her chin and kissed her softly.

"Feeling better now?" He asked, his voice low and teasing.

She smiled, her cheeks flushed. "There's another one tonight. Remember to wear something sexy and wait for me at the hotel."

"Got it," Sydney replied shyly, her tone barely above a whisper.

With a contented sigh, she marked his neck once more, leaving a red imprint before she gathered her clothes and walked out of the office, pretending to be angry.

As she passed by her colleagues, they offered their usual comforting words.

But I couldn’t help but feel a bitter laugh bubble up inside.

So, this is how it’s been for the past two years—putting on a façade of discord, while secretly playing their little games right under my nose.

At lunch, Cayden had made sure my food was heated 20 minutes ahead of time and personally delivered it to me.

"Here, try the shrimp I made for you," he said, his voice dripping with sweetness. "You like light dishes, right? I improved the secret recipe just for you..."

I couldn't help but notice the faint marks on his neck from Sydney, still visible under his collar. My stomach turned.

"I’m not hungry anymore. Let’s go out for some fresh air," I said, pushing the food aside.

From behind, I heard the voice of the secretary. "Miss Kylie, if you don’t want to eat, can I try it?"

Cayden’s expression hardened, but Sydney smiled, unfazed, continuing to play her little game.

"I envy Mr. Jenkins for cooking for you," she said with a sly grin. "I wonder if his cooking is better than my boyfriend’s?"

I saw through her every word, every little scheme, and pushed the lunch box toward her. "You eat it."

I stood up, wanting to get some air. Cayden followed, but I stopped him with a simple gesture.

"You go ahead. I’ll take a walk downstairs."

Making my way to the underground garage, I found his car, and with practiced ease, turned on his dashcam.

I’d never been the type to go through his things. I always believed that trust was essential in a marriage.

But, at that moment, I saw them—Cayden and Sydney—again, this time in the car. I watched as they exchanged intimate moments, unaware of the screen recording.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away, hearing their conversation, untouched by the filter of secrecy.

“Did you put this in my pocket? Kylie saw it. If she finds out, you’re done.”

Cayden’s voice was cold, sharp.

The girl’s tone was laced with regret, but there was no real remorse in it. “Last time, I didn’t finish it, and I forgot…”

He said nothing in response, but Sydney was quick to soften his mood. She leaned forward, coaxing him with soft, pleading words.

“I’m sorry. I’ll remember next time, Cayden. It won’t happen again. Don’t be mad, don’t ignore me…”

Her words worked their magic, and before long, the car was filled with the unmistakable sound of their breath, rapid and heavy.

Enough. I closed my eyes, the suffocating truth settling in my chest.

What more proof did I need? It was all right there, clear as day.

I turned away, needing to breathe. I walked downstairs, dialing my father, who was overseas.

“Dad, can you help me change my identity?”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, then his surprised voice.

“Did I hear that right? My daughter finally figured it out and wants to join me abroad?”

I took a steady breath before continuing, “I want to be someone else. Kylie in Las Vegas… she’s gone.”

My father’s concern was evident. “Changing your identity isn’t an issue. But your husband loves you so much. He stays by your side all the time. Do you think he’ll let you go that easily?”

A small, bitter smile tugged at my lips. “He doesn’t know.”

I had told him once that if I ever discovered he was lying to me, I would disappear from his world completely.

And now, I have prepared the perfect gift for him—my departure.

It would be a memory he would carry for the rest of his life.

The days passed, eerily calm, like the surface of a lake untouched by a single ripple.

I didn’t quit my job, nor did I make any grand declarations about leaving. I simply applied to have my identity erased, quietly erasing every trace of myself from Las Vegas.

"Baby, you look so tired," he said, concern lacing his voice. "Do you want to go home and rest for a while?"