I went to my best friend's place for her birthday, and out of nowhere, she started complaining.

"I'm so jealous of you," she said. "Your boyfriend has basically no sex drive."

"Mine's the complete opposite. He wanted it seven times last night. I was crying so hard I lost my voice, and he still wouldn't stop."

I gave her a sympathetic smile. "That just means he's crazy about you. Unlike mine—he's practically celibate. Like a monk."

She raised an eyebrow, casually stroking the two-million-dollar ruby bangle on her wrist. "He's not bad," she said, a hint of smugness in her voice. "He was with his ex for five years, but he still chose to marry me behind her back. He was so afraid she'd push for marriage that he faked going bankrupt and told her he had ALS.

"The girl wouldn't let go, though. She sold her blood, her kidney—whatever it took—to scrape together money for his treatment.

"She was working the graveyard shift at a factory, while he and I were fooling around in a twenty-million-dollar villa."

I froze.

To help my boyfriend Nathan Whitley pay for his ALS treatment, I had done all of those things.

Before I could even process it, the door opened, and a tall, sharply dressed man walked in.

"Babe," he said, "I got that strawberry flavor you like. How about wearing that silk nightie tonight?"

Our eyes met.

I stood there, frozen in shock, a chill running down my spine.

It was Nathan Whitley—the man who was supposed to be broke, bedridden, and dying of ALS.

My best friend beamed, wrapping herself around Nathan Whitley's arm.

"Nathan," she cooed, "my friend here was just saying her boyfriend has no sex drive. I was teaching her how to turn a guy on.

"You know what… maybe we should show her one of our private videos?"

My breath caught. My heart felt like it was being crushed in a fist.

I couldn't believe it. It was really Nathan.

Just last night, he'd been sick in bed, stuck in a run-down studio apartment, eating leftover bread.

But now, the floor beneath his feet was worth more than a million dollars.

He glanced at me coldly, then kissed my best friend on the forehead, his gaze low and husky.

"You think she'd even get it?" he murmured. "The way you moan… the way your body just melts… the way you squeeze around me—"

"Babe… Evelyn's right here."

Chloe Bartlet giggled, playfully hitting his chest before heading into the kitchen to cut fruit.

My eyes burned. My voice shook as I asked, "How long have you been married?"

Nathan traced his fingers along my cheek, wiping away a tear. His face was calm and unbothered.

"Three months.

"I faked going broke and getting sick because I wanted you to leave. But you wouldn't. You sold your blood and your kidney. You worked every night and day just to pay for a disease I never had. I didn't have the heart to tell you.

"So, you want out or not?"

My throat closed up. Every ounce of strength drained from my body.

"We were together for five years… why?"

I remembered everything. How he worked himself sick buying us an engagement ring. How he held me tight when we crashed the car—glass stabbing into his chest while I walked away with a bruised knee.

Nathan looked at me, standing there wrecked, and something flickered in his eyes.

"Five years," he said. "Aren't you bored?

"Chloe gives me something you never could. Excitement. A chase. You've been the same in bed since day one.

"She wanted to be my mistress. Said she didn't care what people thought. But I couldn't stand her getting judged. So I married her. And honestly? Sex is better when it's legal."

My eyes went dry.

He kept going, his voice dropping lower.

"You really should learn from her. She's gorgeous. Seductive. At your dad's funeral, she was crying so prettily I got hard just watching. I couldn't help myself.

"That night you thought there was a mouse in the house? That was me and her.

"She was so scared you'd hear her moan that her whole face turned red. You should've seen her. God."

The way he talked about Chloe—his eyes burning with want.

This was not a man with a low sex drive.

This was not my Nathan.

Five years ago, when I said yes to his proposal, he spun me around laughing.

"Evelyn, you really said yes. This feels like a dream."

Now, he looked at me like I was nothing.

And suddenly, I laughed. Shaking. Broken.

I ripped the ring off my finger and threw it at his face. It sliced his cheek, drawing blood.

"Nathan," I said. "We're done."

He touched his face, looked at the ring on the floor, then back at me. His brow furrowed—like he was surprised I'd actually thrown it.

He bent down and picked it up. "You're mad?" he said coolly. "A man can't be with one woman forever. You'll get used to it.

"See, that's where Chloe's better than you. She knows when to push and when to pull back. Even when she's moaning like crazy underneath me, she still finds the breath to ask if my girlfriend would be jealous."

That broke me. Tears poured down my face. My chest felt like it had been carved open.

"Evelyn, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Chloe came running back, panicked, dabbing at my tears with a napkin, her face full of concern.

But the fresh red marks all over her neck told a different story.

She'd bragged about having sex seven times last night. She'd made fun of Nathan's girlfriend for taking home leftovers from restaurants.

And I'd never once suspected her.

I laughed bitterly.

"You took my first boyfriend in high school," I said. "And now you've taken my fiancé. Feels pretty good being the other woman, doesn't it?"

Chloe froze. Her face went white.

"You… you know everything?"

I forced a faint smile, my throat burning.

Back when my ex-boyfriend cheated on me, he took private photos of me. I nearly fell into depression and almost jumped off a building. It was Chloe who held my shoulders, crying as she comforted me, "Don't be scared. I'll always be by your side." She pulled me out of that darkness.

There was guilt in her eyes. Remorse.

I thought she was hurting for me.

Only later did I find out that the person my ex cheated with was my own drunk best friend. That's why she felt so guilty.

Even though I was in pain, I pretended not to know, just to spare her feelings.

But reality slapped me hard across the face.

She didn't just go after my ex-boyfriend. She went after my fiancé, too.

"Evelyn, I'm so sorry. I didn't know Nathan was your boyfriend…"

Chloe's eyes turned red. She reached out to hug me.

"Don't touch me!"

A wave of disgust hit me. By the time I realized what I was doing, my hand had already slapped her across the face.

Nathan shoved me hard. His eyes were filled with rage.

"Evelyn! What the hell is wrong with you?"

I fell straight to the floor. My knee split open, tearing off a bloody chunk of skin. The pain made tears stream down my face.

Nathan glared down at me, cold disgust rising in his eyes.

"I pursued Chloe," he said. "I'm the one who cheated on you. So why are you hitting her?

"She's been nothing but guilty about this. She cried and begged me not to break up with my girlfriend. When she found out you were short on money, she sold her newest Chanel bag and her limited-edition Dior lipstick. When you collapsed from exhaustion and ended up in the hospital, she couldn't eat or sleep on that luxury cruise—she was desperate to rush back and take care of you.

"Tell me, Evelyn—what has Chloe ever done to you?"

Nathan's angry voice buzzed in my ears. My vision was blurry with tears.

The only reason I was short on money and collapsed from overwork was because of him.

But in his eyes, all the pain and suffering I had been through mattered less than Chloe just furrowing her brow.

She stole my boyfriend. And somehow, it had all become my fault.

We were together for five years. They didn't add up to three months with her.

I stumbled back to the rundown apartment in a daze.

On the table sat a couple's photo. In it, I was smiling at the camera. He had his arm around my waist, his head lowered, saying he would love me forever.

The matching pajamas on the bed—he had picked them out with me.

The red scarf—his birthday gift to me, knitted with his own hands.

The memories shattered, piece by piece, turning into countless blades that cut me until I bled.

Those moments had been so painfully bright.

I wiped away my tears. I ripped the photo apart with all my strength. Then I picked up my phone and dialed a familiar number.

"I accept your terms," I said. "But you have to help me do one thing first."

The call ended.

I bought a ticket to South City.

Late that night, long fingers pulled back the covers. A familiar scent filled the air.

My body went stiff. I instinctively shrank back.

Nathan's strong hand gripped my waist. His hot breath fell against my ear.

His voice was low and rough. "Weren't you the one who wanted to learn new moves to please me? Why are you pulling away?"

My eyes were dry and burning. I forced a laugh. "She's so wild—seven times in one night. Isn't that enough to satisfy you?"

The air went dead silent.

Nathan's brow furrowed. "Why do you have to insult Chloe like that? She was worried about you. She didn't want you to feel bad. So she made me come keep you company. What more do you want from her?!"

He slammed the door and left.

Half an hour later, my phone suddenly rang.

On the other end, Chloe's tearful voice came through, soft and pleading. "Nathan…"

Her voice broke. The pitch shot up—like she'd just been slammed into.

Nathan's raspy voice followed. "Now do you understand why both your ex and I chose Chloe over you? The way she moans is just too good.

"Two men have left you. Maybe you should take a good look at yourself and figure out why you can't keep a man."

I clenched the phone. My body wouldn't stop shaking.

Back then, when he held me tight, his eyes red, he said, "He's blind. He doesn't deserve you, Evelyn."

That day, he nearly beat a man to death—just to force my ex to delete my nude photos.

But now, he was saying things like this, ripping my heart apart.

Nathan suddenly laughed. "Oh, by the way. You want to see those photos? I actually kept backups. Your technique was really bad."

The phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor. The screen shattered.

A sharp pain stabbed through my chest—like someone had carved a piece right out of me.

So even that had been a lie.

The young love I thought had saved me was just something I made up in my own head.

Outside, rain poured down in sheets.

I curled up in the rundown apartment, burning up with a fever.

My aunt called. Her voice was frantic.

"Evelyn! Someone took your mother's heart donor!

"The hospital said it was your boyfriend, Nathan Whitley. He's taking the heart to save his wife's brother. And he had your mother kicked out of the VIP ward!"

My ears rang. My mind went blank.

My mother's condition was deteriorating fast. Without a heart transplant, she wouldn't make it through tomorrow.

I had waited three years on the transplant list. I had spent so much money. I had begged so many people. He knew all of that.

And now, just to save Chloe's brother, he didn't care whether my mother lived or died?

Drenched in the pouring rain, barely standing from the fever, I went to find him. I arrived at a luxury private room.

Through the door, I heard his friends joking around.

"Damn, Nathan is really addicted to his wife. Listen to that… hope the couch doesn't break."

The group burst out laughing. Then they turned to look at a screen.

"Whew, Nathan still has these videos saved?"

"Evelyn was so stiff and boring in bed. Nathan put up with that for five years. No wonder he was losing his mind."

My fingernails dug into my palms.

Not only had he kept backups—he'd shared those private videos with other people.

Pushing down the humiliation burning through me, I opened the door and walked in.

Everyone froze.

From a nearby partitioned area came the sound of a woman's gasps and Nathan's raspy voice.

I pulled back the curtain. I was about to speak.

A lace bra flew through the air and hit me in the face.

"Get the hell out!"

Nathan barked the order, yanking a blanket over Chloe's body. His face was twisted with anger.

Even though my heart had already gone numb, my eyes still turned red. My throat still burned.

"Give me back my mother's heart donor," I said. "And I'll leave right now. Otherwise, I'll post everything online. And I'll have Chloe sent to prison by law."

Chloe's face was flushed. She looked up at Nathan pitifully. "Nathan… just give Evelyn back the donor. I don't mind."

Nathan frowned. He glanced at me.

"Chloe has only one brother. He's her only family. And you're her best friend. Can't you just let her have this?"

Tears fell from my eyes despite myself. I screamed.

"Is my mother not my only family?! Her condition is really bad. If she doesn't get the heart surgery, she won't make it through tomorrow!"

Nathan's pupils contracted slightly. His brow twitched at the sight of my tear-streaked face. His gaze shifted. Then he said coldly, "You want the heart donor? Fine.

"But you insulted Chloe last night. She cried all night because of you. Drink all those bottles of liquor—the dozen or so bottles of wine—and get on your knees and apologize."

I am severely allergic to alcohol.

Five years ago, I accidentally ate a dessert with fermented rice in it. He was so guilty he couldn't sleep the whole night.

But now, he was telling me to drink a dozen bottles of liquor.

I touched my slightly swollen belly. My nails dug deep into my palms. I closed my eyes.

"Fine," I said. "I'll do it."