I kept my hands at my sides.

Adrian didn't seem to mind. A smirk tugged at his mouth, mockery glinting in his eyes.

Thunder rumbled outside, rattling the windowpanes.

Adrian flinched violently, clutching his head. "Ah!"

"What's wrong?" Hannah's voice pitched with panic.

He trembled, playing the part perfectly. "I'm so sorry... I have a severe phobia of thunderstorms." He sagged against the wall, legs barely holding him. "I know it's abrupt, but could I crash here tonight? If I go out in this weather, I might pass out."

Hannah turned to me, pleading silently.

Laughable.

"Fine," I said flatly. "We have plenty of guest rooms."

Her face lit up. She pecked my cheek. "Honey, you're the best."

Sleep was impossible. I lay in the dark, memories crashing over me.

Hannah and I had gone from college sweethearts to spouses. Despite my family's objections, I married her without hesitation. I funded her first venture, watched with pride as she built her career from nothing.

I never imagined she would stab me in the back.

The cracks had been there for months. About three months ago, she became glued to her phone, taking it everywhere—even into the shower.

On my birthday, she barely sat down before claiming the company website was under attack. She left immediately.

That night, Adrian posted a photo on social media. A city view from a five-star suite. Caption: Busy night. Big sis says her legs are sore.

Hannah had commented with a kiss emoji.

Later, when I was delirious with fever, she didn't answer my calls. Said she'd lost her phone. Yet Adrian's feed showed a hot spring resort. In the steam, two silhouettes were clearly visible.

Even when my mother died, Hannah used "needing quiet time to grieve" as an excuse and vanished. Meanwhile, Adrian's posts showed tangled hotel sheets and captions dripping with suggestion.

In the darkness beside me, Hannah's phone screen lit up.

"Aaron?" she whispered.

I kept my eyes closed, breathing steady.

Thinking I was asleep, she slipped out from under the duvet and crept from the bedroom, closing the door silently behind her.

I waited a beat, then followed to the landing.

The scene below turned my blood to ice.

Hannah pushed him away—though her voice was thick with want. "I knew you stayed on purpose... you have a one-track mind."

Adrian buried his face in her neck. "Can't stand being away from you for even a minute." His voice dropped low. "Isn't the thrill better this way? Don't you like it?"

They tangled together, abandoning all restraint.

No lights. In the gloom, they moved from sofa to dining table. The silence amplified every sound—every gasp—ending finally in Hannah's long, satisfied sigh.

I turned back to the bedroom, chest constricted by a pain sharp enough to kill.

The next morning, I walked downstairs.

They sat at the dining table, acting as if nothing had happened.

"Honey, you're up!" Hannah beamed. "Adrian made breakfast to thank us for last night."

"I'm not hungry." My tone was flat.

I turned to leave, but a flash of color in the trash caught my eye.

I froze.

Among the garbage lay the shattered remains of my mother's jade bangle.

My mother had dedicated her life to philanthropy, donating nearly everything she owned before she passed. This bracelet was the only thing she'd left me.

"This bracelet..." My voice cracked. "Why is it in the trash?"

Hannah followed my gaze. Annoyance flickered across her face before she smoothed it over.

"Oh, that. Adrian was helping clean yesterday. He bumped into it and it cracked. I figured it was ruined, so I tossed it."

She turned to him, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Don't blame him. He meant well."

I gritted my teeth. "That was the only thing my mother left me!"

Hannah's patience visibly thinned. "Aaron, it's just a bracelet. Didn't your mother donate everything else? Is this really necessary?"

"It is!" I roared.

Her face darkened. "What is that attitude?"

Adrian stepped forward, wearing practiced remorse. "Mr. Henson, I'm so sorry! I was clumsy. How much was it worth? I'll reimburse you."

He reached into the bin and retrieved the fractured jade. But the moment the shards touched his palm, his fingers spread open.

Crash.

The jade hit the floor, shattering into dust.

Blood roared in my ears. I shoved him. "You—!"

Adrian crumpled, letting out an exaggerated cry of pain.

Hannah lunged forward, her palm connecting with my cheek.

Smack!

"Aaron! You've gone too far!"

She scrambled to help Adrian up, fussing over him, then stormed out without a backward glance.

I crouched down, hands trembling as I tried to gather the dust and splinters. But no matter how hard I tried, the bracelet was gone. It could never be pieced back together.

A single tear splashed onto the ruins.

Not long after, my phone buzzed. A text from Hannah:

Aaron! You pushed Adrian and injured his ankle. I'm at the hospital with him. You have truly disappointed me.

I stared at the screen, a bitter smile twisting my lips. Injured? I hadn't used any strength at all.

Forget it. Let her spin whatever story she wants.

Hannah didn't return that night.

Early the next morning, I resolved to end this charade. I was heading out to find a divorce lawyer when a heavy blow struck the back of my skull.

The world tilted. Darkness swallowed me.

When consciousness clawed back, everything was black. A blindfold cut into my skin. Coarse ropes bound my wrists and ankles.

I struggled against the restraints. "Who are you?"

Silence.

"Money? Is that what you want? Name your price!"

Footsteps shuffled closer. Several figures surrounded me—I could feel them, the displacement of air.

Cold metal pressed against my skin.

Then a bat smashed into my shin.

Crack.

White-hot agony exploded through my leg. My vision swam behind the blindfold.

And then, amidst the blood and rusted iron, a familiar fragrance drifted over me.

Chanel No. 5. The perfume Hannah wore every day.

Was she here? Or was it Adrian, reeking of her embrace?

Does it matter? They're one and the same.

My heart seized. My body gave up the fight. I slumped to the cold ground.

When I woke again, fluorescent light burned my eyes. Antiseptic stung my lungs.

Outside the door, hushed voices argued.

Hannah.

"What is going on? We agreed on a lesson, just a warning! Why hasn't he woken up?"

"Babe, you wrong me." Adrian's voice whined with grievance. "I just broke his legs like you said. Who knew he was so fragile? He passed out like a dead dog."

Hannah's tone softened. "Alright, fine. I was just anxious. If the Hensons investigate, it'll be trouble for you. I'm trying to protect us."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Don't pout. Here, take my card. Buy yourself something nice."

The wet smack of a kiss followed.

I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my hands clenching under the sheets until my nails drew blood.

Creak.

The door opened.

Hannah bustled to my bedside, her face a perfect mask of worry.

She grabbed my hand. Her palm was warm against my skin.

It made my flesh crawl.

When I opened my eyes, the world was still. My gaze held no ripples—only a dead, freezing calm.

"Aaron, you're awake?" Hannah's face hovered above mine, etched with panic. "How do you feel? You scared me to death—how could you run into something like this?"

I studied her anxious expression and forced a weak smile.

"Maybe an old enemy." I paused. "Bad timing. My heart condition flared up. When they realized they couldn't squeeze money out of me, they dumped me by the roadside."

She bent down and embraced me. Her voice dropped to a soothing coo. "Don't be afraid. It's over now. I'll always be here. If you feel uncomfortable, tell me, okay?"

Her perfume washed over me. A scent I used to love. Now it made me want to vomit.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She glanced at the screen. Her expression didn't shift—practiced and smooth.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Something happen?"

She tapped out a reply without looking up. "Nothing. Sales department. They miscalculated an account."

I listened to the lie she spun so effortlessly. "Work is important. Go handle it."

She nodded, grabbed her bag, and stood. "Aaron, I found you a caregiver. Call me if you need anything."

I watched her hurry out, steps light and eager. A bitter smile finally cracked through my mask.

I picked up my phone and opened the boy's feed.

Sure enough, Adrian had posted. The photo showed a room piled with luxury goods—Hermès, Gucci, the works. Beside it, a shirtless selfie showing off his abs.

Caption: Today, I'll definitely make Big Sis satisfied.

Hannah had replied underneath: You little brat. Wash up and wait for me.

I pressed a hand to my chest. The pain was suffocating.

This marriage had reached its end.

That night, she called. Her voice carried a slight, rhythmic panting. "Aaron... the company issues aren't resolved yet. I'm staying at the office tonight."

Throughout my hospitalization, she found every excuse to stay away.

On discharge day, she finally appeared. High-necked turtleneck sweater. I knew exactly what it was hiding.

That morning, I'd seen Adrian's latest post.

A picture of the floor. Scattered empty wrappers.

Caption: Two boxes. Check the results. In the end, Big Sis wouldn't even let me wear one.

I didn't feel anger anymore. Just cold. I packaged every screenshot, every chat log, the entire timeline, and sent it to my lawyer.

On the drive back, I stayed silent.

Hannah kept her head down, thumbs flying across her screen. She didn't notice my silence. Didn't notice the coldness radiating off me.

I looked out the window. The car wasn't heading toward the villa.

"This isn't the way home."

She looked up with a sweet smile. "You've been in the hospital so long. We have to celebrate your recovery. I'm taking you somewhere interesting."

The car pulled into a rustic rural restaurant.

In the private room, Adrian was already seated, surrounded by Hannah's friends.

She made introductions, her hand resting on the back of his chair. "This is Adrian, my special consultant. I invested in his café. He's very smart."

Adrian's gaze swept over me. No respect—just undisguised jealousy and a sneer of triumph.

The table grew loud. Alcohol flowed, toasts were made, laughter filled the air. I sat in silence, a ghost at my own celebration.

A deafening bang shattered the noise.

The portable gas stove exploded.

Flames shot into the air, licking the wooden ceiling. Heat blasted outward.

"Careful!" Hannah shrieked.

Her body moved on instinct. She didn't look at me. Didn't reach for her husband.

She threw herself at Adrian, grabbing him, shielding him.

Screams erupted. Everyone scrambled toward the narrow doorway.

I stood to rush out. A burning beam crashed down, slamming into the floor in front of me. Exit blocked.

Thick smoke filled the room. Through the wall of flames, I saw them.

Hannah stood on open ground outside, clutching Adrian. Checking him for injuries. Face frantic with worry.

The fire raged, swallowing the room.

Only then did she seem to remember. She spun around, staring into the inferno.

"Aaron—!"