Victor's voice cut through the silence from right behind me.

I jumped and spun around in fright.

He stood there holding a peeled apple, his eyes fixed on the phone in my hand.

I forced myself to look calm, though my throat felt tight and dry. "When did you… start putting a passcode on your phone?"

"Oh, around Christmas," he replied smoothly as he handed me the apple.

His tone was perfectly casual. "Remember when we visited Zaire? His kid got hold of my phone and sent a bunch of random emojis to my clients and friends. I got tired of it and just set a passcode."

"I see…" I gripped my glass tightly, pressing further. "Have you been using my body wash lately?"

He blinked, then let out a chuckle. "Oh, that? Yeah, I knocked it over the other day. A bunch of it spilled out when the cap popped open. Come on, Mrs. Blake, you're not going to get mad at me over a little soap, are you?"

As he spoke, he reached up and scratched his ear.

My pupils dilated at the gesture.

"Of course not."

I forced a tight smile and handed the phone back to him.

It had been eight years. I knew his quirks inside and out.

Whenever Victor was hiding something from me, he would subconsciously scratch his ear. It was a nervous tic he didn't even know he had.

Five years ago, his parents disapproved of my family background and refused to let us marry. They locked him in the house and even beat him, but he never gave in.

When he finally snuck out to see me, he had scratched his ear, smiling as he casually said, "Jane, I'm fine. My parents actually love you. They've already given us their blessing."

The lie happening right before my eyes felt like a knife driving straight into my heart.

I couldn't bring myself to believe it.

We had built everything from scratch over the years. We supported each other, stayed fiercely loyal, and gritted our teeth through every single hardship.

Victor had always been so incredibly good to me.

I hated pain. Whenever I had to get a shot, he would cover my eyes, but his own body would tense up more than mine.

I didn't want children. He took all the heat from his parents and told them we were staying child-free.

Behind closed doors, he would pull me onto his lap and tease, "You're my baby. Having you is enough. If we have another, I'll just have to compete with them for your attention."

Even at business dinners, he always maintained strict boundaries with other women.

Our friends constantly teased me about it, saying Victor's favorite line at the table was, "My wife keeps me on a short leash. If I make her mad, she'll kick me out of the house."

He loved me so much. He treated me as if I were as vital to him as life itself.

And now, he was lying to me.

Once suspicion took hold, it would feed on itself until it consumed everything.

…

A few days later, I wrapped up a project early, packed up my things, and left work ahead of schedule.

As I drove toward our usual parking spot, I immediately spotted Victor's black Maybach. The car was angled sharply across the white line, aggressively taking up two spaces.

Without any expression, I parked my car somewhere else.

The moment I got out, I headed straight for the building's management office.

In the office, Javier Dawson was glued to his computer screen, drowning in paperwork.

When he saw me, he greeted me with a warm smile. "Jane, what brings you here?"

I made up a quick excuse about needing to check the security footage.

Javier nodded quickly, asking me to give him just a second. Once he finished his immediate task, he'd look it up for me.

I glanced around the monitoring room and asked, "Are you working the shift alone today?"

"No," he replied without looking up, clicking his mouse rapidly. "Abigail and I are on duty. She got an upset stomach from some boba tea and went to the restroom."

I nodded.

I waited for about five minutes. Just as Javier was about to pull up the logs for me, my phone suddenly blared.

It was a client. There was an emergency that needed my immediate attention.

I had no choice but to drop what I was doing and rush back to the office.

By the time I finished troubleshooting, three hours had flown by. When I returned to the parking garage, Victor's poorly parked car had mysteriously been straightened out.

I stared at his car for a long moment before heading upstairs.

At dinner, Victor went all out, preparing three dishes and a soup. He eagerly scooped a bowl of soup for me.

"Home so late? You're working yourself ragged every day. It breaks my heart."

Staring at my bowl of soup, I hesitated before finally speaking up. "My phone is charging. Can I borrow yours to make a quick call?"

"Sure," he said, putting down his spoon and handing it over without a second thought. "The passcode is your birthday."

I took the phone, unlocked it, and went out to the balcony to make the call.

Right before bed, I walked out of the bathroom, drying my hair with a towel.

Victor was leaning against the headboard, looking at his phone. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

As I looked closer, I could tell his eyes were full of tenderness. It was exactly the way he used to look at me when we were dating.

I feigned curiosity. "What are you watching? You look so happy."

His fingers swiped rapidly across the screen, turning the phone off.

"Nothing. Just a few funny videos. Pretty hilarious."

In the middle of the night, as I listened to the steady breathing beside me, I slowly opened my eyes.

Carefully shifting out of bed, I grabbed his phone from the nightstand and slipped into the bathroom.

I entered the passcode. The screen gave a slight shudder, displaying "Incorrect Passcode".

My breath caught.

Refusing to believe it, I entered it again, making absolutely sure I hadn't made a typo. It was still incorrect.

I stared blankly at the screen, my heart sinking like a stone.

Victor had secretly changed it.

Unwilling to give up, I tried several of his go-to passcodes. Every single one failed.

The phone locked down for one minute. That brief 60-second countdown felt longer than a year.

The moment the timer ended, I tried another combination. It was still incorrect.

The lockout penalty jumped from one minute to a full hour.

I just sat there. Memories of our past flashed through my mind like a movie reel, contrasting sharply with our fracturing relationship.

When it finally let me try again, a specific string of numbers flashed through my mind out of nowhere.

My fingertips trembled as I punched them in. The screen lit up, and the phone was unlocked.

At that moment, I felt like I had been plunged into an ice bath.

I lay back in bed, having no idea how I survived the rest of the night.

I didn't manage to drift off until dawn. By the time I woke up, the sun was high in the sky.

Victor had already made breakfast.

After a quick wash, I sat down at the dining table.

He brought over a cup of soy milk. Seeing my face, he frowned with deep concern. "Look at those dark circles. Didn't sleep well last night?"

My head was splitting, so I just gave him a vague murmur.

Victor sighed and pushed a plate with a sandwich toward me.

"Work must be getting too stressful. Why don't you just quit and stay home? It's not like I can't afford to support you."

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over me, leaving a lump in my throat.

"It's just… a friend is going through a rough patch," I said, picking up the sandwich and taking a bite while keeping my eyes locked on him.

"She caught her husband red-handed. He was keeping a young mistress on the side. Victor, do you think all men do that kind of stuff once they make some money?"

He let out a soft chuckle and took a sip of his soy milk. "Stop worrying about other people's drama. You're just exhausted, Jane. Don't listen to that toxic gossip. It'll only ruin your mood. You'd be better off spending that energy eating the sandwich I bought you."

The club sandwich was my absolute favorite. But for some reason, it tasted completely off today.

With just one bite, my stomach churned violently. I couldn't help but rush into the bathroom and throw up.

Shocked, Victor immediately hovered over me to ask what was wrong and insisted on taking me to the hospital.

Meeting his worried gaze, I shook my head.

I had given him a chance.

Last night, looking through the social media apps on his phone, I found that the post I had read earlier was written by Victor himself.

At that moment, a sharp pain had pierced my chest, making it hard to breathe.

We had been together for eight years. If Victor had shown even a shred of guilt today and come clean with me—even if he had just vaguely hinted at the truth—I would have let him go.

We could have parted ways on good terms.

Instead, he evaded the question and chose to keep acting, treating me like an absolute idiot.

If that was how he wanted to play it, then he couldn't blame me for what came next.

I turned and walked toward the bedroom. "I'm taking a sick day today."

Victor told me to drink plenty of water before grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

Standing on the balcony, I looked down coldly as his car drove out of the neighborhood.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. "I need some security cameras installed at my place. I'll text you the address.

"Yes, right now."

Half an hour later, the technician arrived. "Ma'am, what are your requirements? What kind of setup are you looking for?"

"Small and discreet."

I glanced at the king-sized bed in the bedroom. "They absolutely cannot be found. Give me the best you have. Money is no object."

The technician nodded and set to work efficiently.

…

A week later, I had just finished a meeting and walked back into my office when I checked my watch. It was just past 3:30 pm.

Staring at the coffee on my desk, an impulse hit me. I opened the camera feed on my phone.

The moment the image loaded, I nearly dropped the phone.

On the screen, right on my bed, two naked bodies were tangled together.

The woman's long, faint blonde hair was glaringly obvious.

The sickening moans mixed with Victor's grunts made my stomach turn.

I gripped my phone so hard the screen almost cracked. Rage rushed straight to my head, leaving my whole body trembling.

Victor Blake!

Taking a deep breath to steady my rising chest, I called my best friend, Paige Gray. "Paige, gather some people and meet me at my place. Arm yourselves."

Ten minutes later, I pulled into the parking garage.

Sure enough, Victor's car was once again taking up two spaces.

The moment I got out, I saw two black Toyota Siennas pull up one after the other.

The sliding doors flew open, and a dozen heavily muscled men piled out.

Paige rushed out from behind the crowd, swearing up a storm. "That absolute bastard! How dare he sleep around behind your back? Does he think you don't have anyone looking out for you? I'm going to ruin him today!"

Compared to the blinding rage I felt earlier, I was now strangely calm.

My apartment was on the 23rd floor.

I had everyone ride the elevator to the 22nd floor with me first, then take the stairs the rest of the way up.

Standing in the stairwell, I called Victor.

The phone rang seven times before he finally picked up. "Yes, honey?"

His voice was raspy, and his breathing was a little heavy. I could hear it loud and clear.

"I'm down in the garage. Come down and move your car."

"Oh, okay. I'll be right down. Give me a minute."

After hanging up, I started handing out orders methodically.

Two guys went to cover the elevator, Paige got her phone ready to record, and the rest blocked the front door, with me leading.

Everyone took their positions exactly as instructed.

Paige raised her phone, aiming it squarely at the door. A dozen men packed the hallway, leaving no room to move.

The corridor was dead silent. Less than two minutes later, hurried footsteps echoed from inside the apartment.

Then came a sharp click. Someone opened the door.

"Ugh, your wife is so annoy—Ah!"

Before the woman could finish her sentence, her eyes went wide with terror, and she tried to close the door.