She'd meant to tell Stanley that she was going to stay at Ervin's place. But now the words caught in her throat before she could speak them.

Her chest already felt tight. Now her heartbeat turned sluggish and heavy, pressing down until she could barely breathe.

Two seconds passed before she managed to speak. "You're not coming back?"

"No. A friend ran into some trouble. I'm staying with her tonight. Get some rest—I'll see you tomorrow."

The line went dead the moment the words left his mouth.

Even with Chloe, he'd felt the panic of a guilty conscience.

Meanwhile.

Chloe stared at the ended call, her body rigid, unable to react.

Ervin's expression darkened as he pulled out his phone.

He'd just tapped on Stanley's contact when Chloe turned around.

"Ervin," she said quietly, "let's go. Don't tell him I'm staying at your place."

He paused, sliding the phone back into his pocket. "Why not?"

"There's no point. He probably won't be back by morning anyway. I'll leave early."

He wouldn't care even if I told him. So why bother?

She turned and began gathering her things.

Ervin watched her slim figure from behind, a flicker of melancholy passing through his dark eyes.

No one would guess Chloe was an expectant mother. Her waist was still so slender.

But three months ago, when that ultrasound report—black text on white paper—had been placed before the entire Dudley family, it had struck him like a thunderclap. Even now, he still felt dazed. He told himself he'd accepted reality, yet confusion lingered. His heart ached whenever he saw her, beating too fast, refusing to let go.

When Chloe reached for the oversized tote bag stuffed with her belongings, Ervin snapped out of his thoughts and stepped forward, taking it from her hands. "Let me carry that."

Chloe froze for a moment, touched. "Thank you."

Ervin smiled gently. "Make sure you haven't left anything behind."

Chloe shook her head. "I've got everything."

"Good. Let's go."

Chloe glanced back one last time at the room thick with its suggestive atmosphere. Her eyes stung.

She couldn't stop her mind from spiraling. What are Stanley and Kira doing right now?

The suffocating weight of that thought made her stomach churn.

"Chloe?" Ervin's voice cut through.

She blinked, forced a small smile at him, and walked out.

A black SUV waited outside the hotel. She followed Ervin inside.

Once seated, the silence between them felt awkward. She had no idea what to say to him, so she pulled out her phone.

The moment she opened WeChat, she saw Kira had posted again.

Sweet dreams guaranteed tonight.

Below the caption: a man's arm resting on a pillow.

The arm was unmistakable—covered in tattoos.

No likes. No comments.

Chloe's hands went ice-cold. Her lips trembled.

This post was meant for me alone.

She hated herself for being so weak. One post, and her mood had crashed completely. Her chest felt like someone had clamped a hand over her nose and mouth, cutting off all air.

She sat frozen for several long seconds before finally opening her mouth and forcing out a breath.

Then she set down her phone, pretended to adjust her collar, and pinched her own flesh—hard.

Don't get angry.

Don't be sad.

Don't let it hurt.

She repeated the words in her mind as the pain shot through her.

So what if Stanley slept with Kira?

At least he's not wasting himself on me.

From now on—stay away from Stanley.

Starting tonight, let go of these feelings before they've even taken root.

Starting tonight, refuse any intimacy with him.

Her pupils dilated. She stared blankly at the Harborcrest night skyline outside the window, pinching herself over and over until a vivid red mark appeared near her collarbone.

Only then—through the pain in her body—did she finally manage to suppress the pain in her heart.

At Kira's place.

Stanley sat propped against the headboard, turning a lighter over in his hands, his expression unreadable.

A moment later, Kira emerged in a white dress. "Stanley, what do you think of this dress for tomorrow?"

He didn't seem to hear her. No reaction at all.

"Stanley!"

He slowly turned his head. "Hm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

He tossed the lighter aside and closed his eyes. "Nothing."

The delight drained from Kira's face. "You're thinking about Chloe, aren't you?"

Stanley opened his eyes and turned to look at the familiar face beside him.

The woman hadn't removed her makeup yet. Her face was as flawless as a doll's, but compared to Chloe, whom he'd left behind at the hotel, she really fell short.

He was looking right at Kira's face, yet all he could think about was the smooth, bouncy feel of Chloe's skin—soft as jelly beneath his fingers.

Kira was perceptive. At the very least, she'd guessed right—he had been thinking about Chloe just now.

In the three months since marrying Chloe, he'd come to understand one thing clearly: he craved her body.

But because she was pregnant, the doctor had advised avoiding intimacy for the first trimester.

With various busybodies watching his every move, he'd had no choice but to follow that advice. Yet his desire for Chloe only grew stronger by the day.

In the two months since the wedding, they'd kissed every single day.

Every. Single. Day.

Her lips were soft, with a sweetness he couldn't quite describe. The curve of her chest, her waist—they fit his hands perfectly.

When his blood ran hot and his heart pounded to its limit, the rush was better than any extreme sport.

And there was something else—maybe it was the pregnancy—but she carried this subtle, distinctive sweetness. Holding her while he slept, he always slept well.

He used to stay up until the early hours, his schedule completely inverted. Lately, that had improved.

These past weeks, he'd grown used to having Chloe beside him at night. Now, lying in a bed saturated with Kira's scent, an inexplicable unease crept through him.

He turned his head again and stared at the ornate chandelier on the ceiling.

The light had been dimmed to a warm, intimate amber, casting the entire room in a hazy glow.

But his mind was full of Chloe.

His throat bobbed slightly. "Just thinking about human nature."

Kira paused. "Human nature?"

"What about it?"

He was thinking about how pathetic his own nature was.

For years, he'd wanted to give Kira a lifetime of stability and commitment. Yet in just a few short months, he'd become hopelessly fixated on Chloe—a woman he'd looked down on, whose only redeeming quality was her beauty.

Kira was too close. That artificial fragrance of hers made him uncomfortable now.

He grabbed his lighter and sat up on the bed. "Get some sleep. I'm going to play some games outside."

Kira frowned. As Stanley lit his cigarette, a smile crept onto her face. Her voice turned soft and coaxing. "Stanley, let's cuddle."

Stanley turned, looking at her with some surprise.

Kira sat down on the edge of the bed. The strap on her right shoulder slipped down, exposing the smooth curve of her shoulder.

A hint of seduction colored her expression.

Stanley's eyes darkened, his emotions impossible to read.

He took a drag from his cigarette and spoke in a teasing tone. "You wouldn't even let me hold your hand before. What's with the sudden need for cuddles tonight?"

"Before, I thought I valued your feelings for me more. I figured hand-holding, hugging, kissing—all of that could wait until after we were married. After all, once we tied the knot, we'd have a lifetime together. But now..."

She paused, looking up at him with pitiful eyes. "Legally, you're someone else's husband. I'm really scared of losing you forever."

"Do you remember when we were kids?" Kira turned her head, running her fingers over her own shoulder, her voice trembling slightly. "Everyone looked down on us. Bullied us. All we had was each other..."

Stanley's expression darkened, as if her words had stirred up old memories.

His lips pressed into a thin line. He stubbed out the freshly lit cigarette in the nearest ashtray. "Come here."

But Kira let out a soft laugh and pulled the blanket over herself.

Stanley froze, his brow furrowing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"No cuddles for you."

Stanley withdrew his arm, his eyes cold as the midnight sea.

He stared at Kira, his voice low. "You played me?"

Kira threw off the covers and planted her bare feet on the carpet, standing tall.

She lifted her chin, defiance flashing in her eyes. "I didn't play you. I just wanted you to understand who matters more—me or Chloe."

The air froze. Even their breathing seemed loud.

After a moment, Stanley's hard expression finally softened, a hint of helpless tenderness surfacing between his brows. "You, of course."

He turned and picked up his cigarettes and lighter, exhaustion bleeding into his voice. "Get some sleep. I'll be in the living room playing games."

Kira's eyes flickered. Something else occurred to her, and she stepped forward quickly, grabbing his arm. "Wait—you brought Chloe to Harborcrest to find out the baby's sex, right? Did you get the results? Boy or girl?"

Stanley's back visibly stiffened.

Silence stretched between them. Finally, he spoke, barely above a whisper. "Girl."

"A girl..."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Kira's face, quickly replaced by a tender smile. "A girl is wonderful too. They say daughters take after their fathers—she'll definitely look like you."

She moved closer, standing behind him, her voice sweet. "Actually, I'm grateful Chloe got pregnant with your child. I'm scared of pain, too afraid to give birth myself. Once she has the baby and you two divorce, after we get married—even though she'll be the birth mother and I'll be the stepmother—I get to be a mom without the pain. It's honestly the best thing ever. I'll love that child like my own."

She saw nothing wrong with what she was saying.

After all, in their circles, plenty of women feared losing their figures, didn't want to endure the pain of childbirth, refused to have children themselves. They went overseas.

Surrogacy.

She had a friend who'd just gotten twins that way—a boy and a girl. Stanley knew about these things too.

But.

Birth mother. Stepmother. Those two words sent a tremor through him.

Suddenly, an image surfaced in his mind—Chloe holding that ultrasound printout.

Her eyes had been impossibly bright, the corners of her lips curved upward, as if she were cradling the most precious thing in the world.

That smile had been beautiful.

At least beautiful enough that he hadn't looked away.

Even a dog walking by could have seen from her expression just how much she loved this child, barely formed inside her.

Stanley's throat worked, his Adam's apple bobbing hard. In the end, he simply pulled free of Kira's grip and said gently, "It's late. Get some sleep. I'm going to play for a bit."

Kira's mood lifted. "Okay, but no sneaking off."

Stanley nodded, walked out quickly, and pulled the door shut behind him.

In the living room, the wave of scented air hit him and made him frown.

Some cloying woody fragrance, laced with the sharpness of synthetic perfume. His temples began to throb.

These past weeks with Chloe, her pregnancy had made her crave light, clean scents—citrus, jasmine. Their room always carried hints of orange or white flowers, fresh and calming.

Just tonight, when they'd first arrived at the hotel, the first thing Chloe had done was remove the diffuser and open the windows.

Now this smell was making him faintly nauseous.

He rubbed his brow in irritation. He didn't touch the games. He just dropped heavily onto the sofa.

Drowsiness washed over him like a tide. He closed his eyes, trying to sink into sleep.

Half an hour later, he sat up abruptly. Irritated, he grabbed the cigarettes from the table and lit one.

The smoke rolled through his lungs. The nicotine sharpened his mind slightly, and with it, his desires became clear.

The night had grown too deep. He wanted to go back to Chloe's side and get some real sleep.

A moment later, he stood and pushed open the bedroom door. "Kira."

Water pattered from the bathroom. She was in the shower.

Stanley's eyes darkened. Without hesitation, he shut the door, his fingers flying across his phone screen to call a car.

The night breeze was cool. Neon lights outside the window blurred into streaks of color.

In less than fifteen minutes, he was back.

He swiped his keycard and pushed open the door, his tone light. "Hey, I'm back."

Silence.

He frowned and reached for the light switch. The moment it clicked on, he froze.

Where was Chloe?