Chapter 1

To marry her father, Luke Johnson's close friend, Oliver Carter, Cynthia Johnson decided to cut ties with her family.

Even after three years of marriage, Oliver still loved her passionately. Just moments ago, they had finished a nearly hour-long round of intimacy.

"Sweetheart, how am I supposed to resist you when you are dressed like that? At this rate, you will be the death of me," he said.

Cynthia lay exhausted on the bed, her entire body aching. She was too drained to even lift a finger, struggling to keep up with his pace even after all this time.

People said younger men are stronger, but Oliver—12 years her senior—would put them to shame whenever he got things going.

Still, she propped herself up and gave him a contented smile.

"Don't you die on me. You promised you'd care for me forever."

"You little minx." Oliver chuckled affectionately, tapping her perky nose before gently wiping her down with a warm towel.

Cynthia let him move her however he pleased. In no time, he had helped her into her pajamas, then casually shrugged.

"Get some rest, sweetheart. I still have some work to finish up, so I'll be with you later."

His attentiveness warmed her heart.

Cynthia never once regretted marrying him. He had fulfilled every fantasy she ever had about love and marriage.

Worried he'd overwork himself, she prepared fruit juice and brought it to his study. However, just as she was about to open the door, voices from inside caught her attention.

"Oliver, Melissa's big day is next week—she's finally becoming Johnson Corporation's CEO. What are you planning to get her as a gift?"

"Let me guess… Your divorce from Cynthia?"

Oliver's raspy voice cut through with a warning tone. "Whatever's going on between Melissa and me, you'd all better keep your mouths shut. Otherwise, we can all forget about being good friends."

Yet, his warning didn't stop the others from gossiping.

"Come on, Oliver. You're being way too cautious. Melissa's about to be CEO. Her place in the Johnson family is solid. Why keep wasting time on Cynthia? We all know the one you love is Melissa."

"Exactly. He only married Cynthia to help Melissa climb the ladder. Rumor has it Cynthia even cut ties with her father for him. Talk about being a simp."

"Let's be real—Melissa's just the adopted daughter. If she were a true Johnson by blood, Oliver wouldn't have had to make such sacrifices."

"Didn't he say it himself? He's only using Cynthia as a practice. When the time comes and Melissa marries him, he'll finally live the good life."

Oliver didn't deny their theories.

Cynthia stood frozen, her heart pounding in disbelief. How could it be that Oliver didn't love her?

If he hadn't loved her, why had he knelt outside the Johnson residence to marry her to the point where he collapsed from a fever and was hospitalized?

Why would he know everything about her life? Why did he prepare her meals, her clothes, her home—every little detail of it?

Why would he pour such passionate desire into her every time they slept with each other?

Over a thousand nights, he whispered his love into her ear. Those words still echoed clearly, so how could it all be fake?

She wanted to barge in and confront him, but her hand recoiled like it had been burned. She was scared. What if it were all true?

Suddenly, she had no courage left. Cynthia placed the glass of juice quietly by the door and staggered off.

…

Back in their bedroom, she threw herself onto the still-warm sheets that held the scent and memory of their intimacy.

She breathed in deeply, as if trying to find traces of his love here.

"Sweetheart, did you leave the fruit juice outside the door?" Oliver asked, gently nudging her as she pretended to sleep. His voice carried a hint of cautious curiosity.

"Yeah, I did," she mumbled, keeping her eyes closed, feigning sleep. "I left it there. Didn't want to disturb you. Did you drink it?"

"You didn't hear anything, right?"

"No," she replied, voice soft and drowsy. "I left right after."

Seeing Cynthia's calm expression, Oliver finally relaxed. He leaned in and kissed her softly on the corner of her lips.

"It's late. Get some rest. I'm here with you."

Soon, the room filled with the sound of steady breathing. Once she was sure he was asleep, she carefully reached for his phone.

The passcode was her birthday. It unlocked instantly.

She had never once gone through his things. She trusted him, but tonight… she couldn't stop herself.

Everything seemed normal at first. Only messages from work and photos—hundreds of them—of her.

Just as she began to wonder whether she had merely been paranoid, a message popped up on the screen. It read, "The toy you sent just arrived. Want to try it out?"

Chapter 2

Cynthia's fingers trembled slightly as she forced herself to stay calm. Then, she tapped the message open.

The contact had no name, and the chat history was empty—except for that one message.

However, the profile picture… It felt hauntingly similar. Quickly, she grabbed her own phone and compared the image.

It was her—Melissa Johnson, her sister.

Cynthia froze in shock, her face turning ghostly pale.

Melissa had been adopted by the Johnson family. Her mother, Lily Jones, had once worked for them as a household staff member. She had died saving Cynthia from drowning in the lake.

After the accident, Luke discovered that Lily had left behind a daughter. Out of guilt and gratitude, he brought her into the family and raised her as his own.

The girl had been renamed Melissa Johnson.

"Why, Melissa? Why would you betray me? Oliver's your brother-in-law." Cynthia sent the message.

The reply came instantly.

"You finally found out, my dear sister. I've been waiting for this day. If you want to know the truth, meet me tomorrow at noon. High Street Cafe, next to the company. I'll see you there."

After deleting the conversation, Cynthia carefully placed the phone back on Oliver's pillow.

Oliver stirred, woken by the slight movement. Half-asleep, he instinctively grabbed the phone and asked, "Sweetheart, why are you still awake?"

His guarded look pricked at her heart. Feigning calmness, she pointed at the phone and answered casually, "Your phone buzzed. Woke me up."

That snapped him into full awareness.

"Probably just spam mail. I'm going to the bathroom. Go back to sleep, okay?"

Cynthia closed her eyes, listening. From the bathroom came the faint sound of his voice, low and hurried. Then came the quiet rustle of clothes.

The door opened… and closed. He was gone. She didn't need to guess where he went.

Her heart shattered under the weight of betrayal. Tears spilled silently from the corners of her eyes, soaking into the pillow one drop at a time.

Then, her phone buzzed.

It was from Melissa.

"Cynthia, geez, Oliver's stamina is insane. Are you not satisfying him at home or what? He went three rounds with me and still wasn't done. Want to know what he says about you? He says you're like a dead fish in bed—can't even roll over without his help.

"I, on the other hand, know how to let myself go. I give him the kind of pleasure you never could. I was nearly worn out. If it weren't for the baby I'm carrying, he probably would've kept going. Oops, forgot to mention—yeah, I'm pregnant. Three months now. With your dear husband's child."

Each message hit Cynthia like a hammer to her chest, stealing the breath from her lungs. Her face turned deathly pale.

Another message came in. This time, it was a photo. She stared at it in a daze.

Oliver, kneeling, kissing Melissa's slightly rounded belly with tenderness.

The image was so warm and so natural that it looked like a scene from a fairytale.

She always thought Oliver didn't want kids. He'd promised her they would be child-free for life, but now she understood.

It wasn't that he didn't want children. He just didn't want them with her.

Cynthia felt like her blood had gone cold, causing her to remain rooted on the spot.

…

Oliver didn't come home that night. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at their wedding photo, unable to sleep.

Only in the early hours of the morning did she finally lie down and close her eyes for a short rest.

"Sleepyhead, breakfast is ready."

Oliver's gentle voice woke her. He was wearing an apron with little bears on it, his expression soft, eyes filled with affection.

For a split second, Cynthia wondered whether last night had just been a terrible dream.

Maybe he was still the loving husband she thought she had. Then, another message from Melissa brought her crashing to reality.

"Don't forget. High Street Café. Be there or be square."

"Who are you meeting for coffee?" Oliver asked, curiosity sparking in his eyes as he leaned in.

"Just a friend," Cynthia replied quickly, dodging further questions by changing the subject. "What did you make? I'm starving."

"Your favorite—sunny-side-up eggs."

…

After breakfast, Oliver walked her out to the car, reluctant to see her leave. "Are you sure you don't want me to take you?"

"You've got that important meeting today, right? The driver can take me. I'll be fine."

"Alright. Call me if you need anything."

"I will."

As the car pulled away from the villa, Cynthia sat in silence, her eyes unfocused.

Did Oliver ever really love her at all?

Chapter 3

Over at High Street Cafe, Melissa greeted Cynthia with a bright smile. "Cynthia, you're finally here. I've waited for ages."

Three years had passed, and Melissa had only grown more striking—delicate and charming in a way that drew eyes effortlessly.

"You can spill the beans now, can't you?" Cynthia said.

Melissa lifted her cup of coffee, took a delicate sip, then raised her chin with arrogant poise. "It's just like you suspected. Oliver married you… for my sake."

"No. You're lying." Cynthia denied it, but her eyes were already beginning to burn.

"If you didn't doubt him, then why are you asking me?"

Melissa's fingertip slid slowly around the rim of her cup, creating a sharp, grating sound that set Cynthia's teeth on edge.

"Has Oliver been working late a lot lately?" Her eyes gleamed with mockery, her expression twisted with cruelty. "He's been working overtime with me. After all, I'm carrying the Carter family's heir."

Cynthia's breath caught. Beneath the table, her fingernails dug deep into her palm. She forced her voice to stay even. "I've given you everything—clothes, food, anything you liked all these years. I even stepped aside.

"Wasn't that enough for you? Oliver is the love of my life. And you still had to take him from me?"

Melissa slammed her cup down. Her eyes were dark with hatred. "Take him? Why wouldn't I fight for him? This is what you owe me! You owed me the moment my mother died saving you!"

A flash of that gentle, loving smile of Lily's appeared in Cynthia's mind, making her heart shudder.

"We compensated your family."

"Can you put a price on family relations? I lost the only person who truly loved me. I lost the warmth of a home. I was dragged into your Johnson family, clinging on, terrified every day that I'd make a mistake and be thrown out," Melissa exclaimed. "Do you understand that fear?"

She continued, "Well, of course, you don't. You're the Johnson family's precious daughter—spoiled, adored, and raised on a pedestal. You could never understand the pain of people like me."

Melissa gritted her teeth, unleashing years of resentment and bitterness in one furious breath.

"You owe me everything. I'll take your father, your inheritance, and your man. Only when you've fallen from grace will you know what helplessness really feels like."

Cynthia sat frozen, stunned by Melissa's venomous words. She had never imagined Melissa's hatred ran this deep.

She had tried to make up for everything, thinking it had been enough.

Just then, a cold voice cut through the air. "Melissa, why aren't you at work?"

It was Oliver. His handsome face was taut with disapproval, his posture protective as he stood beside Cynthia.

Melissa lowered her gaze to hide the flash of irritation in her eyes. "Oh, nothing. I just ran into Cynthia by chance and thought we'd chat for a bit."

He glanced at her suspiciously before slipping his arm around Cynthia's waist. "Sweetheart, it's almost lunchtime. Aren't you heading home?"

It was a familiar, affectionate gesture—but for the first time, it made Cynthia feel uncomfortable.

"Yes. I'll leave now."

"Good. I'll have the driver take you."

However, unlike before, he didn't insist on driving her himself. That gave her the opportunity she needed.

She slipped behind a row of potted plants, hiding in their shadow, eyes locked on the pair in front of her.

"Melissa, you're about to be named as Johnson Corporation's successor. Why are you still provoking Cynthia? What if something goes wrong?"

Melissa giggled, then cheekily placed his hand on her slightly rounded belly. "Sorry. I know I messed up. It really was a coincidence this time, don't be mad. Okay? You're scaring the baby."

Oliver's gaze fell to her belly, overflowing with tenderness. "Has the little one been good today? Not kicking up a fuss?"

"He's been quiet. A little too quiet, and it's making me nervous."

"It's fine. He's probably just sleepy. A bit of movement, and he'll perk right up."

"Ugh, you're such a tease." Melissa laughed coyly.

Oliver's arm slid smoothly around her waist as the two walked toward the garage.

Cynthia followed silently, watching as they climbed into Oliver's Bentley.

Moments later, the car began to rock violently, the unmistakable rhythm of passion echoing through the underground parking lot.

She collapsed at the corner, unable to breathe, her tears falling uncontrollably.

With trembling fingers, she called Oliver, but he declined the call after barely two seconds. A message followed almost instantly. "Be good, sweetheart. I'm in an urgent meeting. I'll call you later."

Meeting? What kind of meeting took place between a woman's thighs?

Every word felt like a knife stab to her chest. If she had managed to deceive herself before, she could no longer deny the truth after witnessing it with her own eyes.

She remembered how hard she fought to be with Oliver, how she had nearly driven Luke into a heart attack. Guilt surged through her like a tidal wave.

With shaky hands, she dialed a number that had long been etched into her memory.

"Dad… I'm sorry."

The other end of the line was silent for a long time. Then, came his raspy, bitter voice, saying, "You ungrateful child. It's been three years. Not a single visit. Were you planning to wait until I was dead before coming over?"

Chapter 4

Cynthia learned from Luke that ever since she left the Johnson family, he had been plagued by illness and had gone abroad to recuperate. Guilt crashed down on her like a wave.

She had failed miserably as a daughter, not even knowing that he had fallen ill.

"Dad… I want a divorce," she said quietly.

Luke seemed to have guessed what she had been through. After a few words of comfort, he made a surprising offer.

"Then, divorce him. I've already transferred most of our assets over the years. Once it's finalized, you can take over the family business."

Cynthia could hardly believe her ears. Luke had moved the family fortune abroad? What about Johnson Corporation back home? Was it just an empty shell?

No wonder he'd handed it over to Melissa so easily. What an old fox he was.

With her decision made, Cynthia no longer hesitated. After hanging up, she immediately contacted Gregory Kurt, one of the most renowned lawyers in the country.

"Well, well, well, someone finally came to her senses," Gregory joked. "I thought you're going to hang yourself on that crooked tree named Oliver Carter forever."

She didn't mind him teasing her. She knew how he was—a bit of a clown on the surface but serious when it mattered.

"Are you in or not?"

"I'm in. Leave it to me—I'll make sure this is done perfectly."

…

After giving him the details, Cynthia glanced once more in the direction of the car. Then, she turned and walked away.

That night, she received a message from Oliver, saying he was working late. She barely spared it a glance before tossing her phone aside.

Then, she began cleaning out the trash in her life. First off was the necklace he had given her for her 25th birthday—pricey, but meaningless now. She donated it.

Next was the love letters he once wrote to woo her—junk paper, tossed.

The fig tree they planted together on their wedding day—useless now as well. She had it cut down.

Cynthia methodically erased every trace of their love, as if purging her home could also purge her heart.

…

The next morning, when Oliver returned and saw the half-empty room and the suitcase by the door, an uneasy feeling crept over him.

"Sweetheart… where are you going?"

She gave him a faint smile. "I'm heading out for a while, so I packed in advance."

"Heading out?" he asked, frowning instinctively. "Where to?"

"Prolos Island. Did you forget that Janine's wedding is coming up?"

Janine Wilson was Cynthia's best friend, and her wedding was coming up in two weeks.

At the mention of the wedding, Oliver visibly relaxed. "When's your flight? I'll take you to the airport."

"In five days."

Scheduled in five days was Melissa's press conference announcing her as the new CEO. There was no way he could miss it.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I have an important meeting that day. I'll have the driver take you."

Cynthia's eyes dropped, hiding the mocking glint in them.

In Oliver's heart, Melissa's affairs would always come before her. She had no business expecting anything else from him.

Quietly, she snuffed out the last flicker of hope she'd been holding onto, resulting in her stoic expression.

Something about her calm eyes tugged painfully at Oliver's chest. He opened his mouth, wanting to say he'd go with her, but when he finally spoke, it came out as something else.

"Leo's throwing a party on his yacht tonight. Come with me—it might do you some good to get out."

Cynthia's brow furrowed. A party… on the water?

Ever since the drowning incident, she had developed an instinctive aversion to any place surrounded by water.

However, Oliver didn't give her a chance to decline. He tugged her straight into the car.

Cynthia sat in the passenger seat, her body stiff with discomfort.

Just yesterday, she had seen him and Melissa in this very car, tangled together.

She gritted her teeth and reached beneath her feet, hoping to adjust her position and feel less nauseated, but her fingers brushed against something smooth and slippery.

Her expression went cold in an instant.

Chapter 5

Cynthia picked the item up expressionlessly and held it out in front of Oliver. "What is this?"

Oliver glanced at it from the corner of his eye, and his expression instantly changed. His hand on the steering wheel slipped, nearly crashing into the median strip.

"What are you doing?" Cynthia, pale with fear, clutched the handle above the car window tightly.

Thankfully, they weren't on the highway, and traffic was light.

By the time he regained control of the vehicle, his back was already drenched in cold sweat.

He pulled over to the side of the road and looked at her anxiously. "Sweetheart, are you okay? A bird flew at the windshield and startled me. I swear I won't lose focus again."

Startled by a bird? Or by the condom in her hand?

Cynthia knew better. She tossed the condom onto his lap, still with that same calm expression. "Then, explain this."

Oliver's eyes flickered. He picked it up distastefully and immediately tossed it out the window.

"That damn Bernard. He borrowed my car yesterday, saying he had something urgent to take care of. I didn't know he was out doing something so filthy.

"Sweetheart, don't tell me you think it's mine? That's not fair—I swear, I can't even muster a hint of interest in any woman who isn't you."

As he spoke, he raised his right hand and made a solemn vow.

His tone was sincere, and his gaze unwavering. If Cynthia hadn't seen his betrayal with her own eyes, she might've believed him.

She lowered his gaze, her voice calm. "I believe you."

She had already decided to leave. What was the point of dragging things out any further? It was better to let things end this way.

Even so, disappointment still rippled quietly through her heart.

The engine started up again. She reclined her seat, found a comfortable position, and closed her eyes to rest.

Oliver, satisfied with his "flawless performance", secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

However, for some reason, unease gnawed at him, like he'd overlooked something crucial. He shook off the feeling and took off his jacket, gently draping it over her shoulders before continuing the drive.

…

They soon arrived at the port. With Oliver's help, Cynthia boarded the yacht.

His friends, upon seeing the couple, immediately broke into teasing grins.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Oliver bringing his wife along—planning to blind us with a public display of affection or what?"

"Cynthia, I'm telling you, in our circle, Oliver is one of the rare loyal ones. Plenty of women have their eyes on him, so you better keep watch."

As they mentioned the admirers, everyone laughed knowingly.

Possibly afraid that they had said too much, Oliver waved them off. "Cut the nonsense. Move—can't you see you're blocking Cynthia's way?"

"Right this way, Oliver, Cynthia."

The group joked and laughed, creating a warm atmosphere, but it didn't last long. Melissa's arrival shattered it.

"Melissa? What are you doing here?"

Oliver's eyes flashed a warning as he looked at her.

Melissa bit her bright red lips, looking wounded and pitiful in her flowing white dress, and glowing under the moonlight.

"What? Just because Leo organized the party, you can come, but I can't?"

Sensing the tension, Oliver's friends quickly stepped in to smooth things over.

"Of course you can. We're thrilled to have a beauty like you join. Come on up—the party's about to begin!"

As the party kicked off, drinks flowed and people sang. Eventually, the group started a game of Truth or Dare.

From the moment they entered the cabin, Melissa glued to Oliver like a shadow. Though he never looked at her directly, he didn't push her away either.

Then, the spoon landed on Oliver.

All eyes turned to him. He lounged lazily in the booth like he hadn't even noticed.

"Truth or dare, Oliver?"

"Truth."

"Then, don't hold back—who's the woman you love the most?"

Every gaze flicked between Cynthia and Melissa. A show was about to begin.

Oliver glared at the guy who asked, then cleared his throat lightly. "Of course, it's Cynthia—my wife." His voice was soft, almost unreal.

It was the most expected answer, yet Melissa's eyes suddenly reddened. She gave Oliver a sorrowful look.

Then, she stood up, clearly upset, announcing, "I'm going to the restroom."

As she walked away, his expression became unreadable. He slowly withdrew the arm that had been around Cynthia and muttered, "I'm going for a smoke."

A smoke? Funny—he went in the exact opposite direction. Coincidence? Maybe.

Cynthia's expression remained indifferent.

"Looks like Oliver still can't let go of Melissa."

"Who could? She's the classic 'first love' you never forget. Plenty of folks in our circle have divorced over their 'first loves'."

"Poor Cynthia, being played by both of them."

"Shh—keep it down. Don't let her hear you."

…

The party was meaningless to Cynthia. She made an excuse to head out for some fresh air.

The salty sea breeze brushed her cheeks, as if blowing away the haze in her heart. She leaned against the railing, eyes closed, enjoying the rare peace.

She didn't notice the dark figure quietly approaching behind her.

The woman stepped closer, stopping just an arm's length away. Then, she suddenly lunged, using all her strength to push Cynthia toward the sea.

However, Cynthia turned calmly and sidestepped her attack, sending the woman stumbling over the railing.

Cynthia caught her just in time, demanding, "It's been so long, yet you are pulling off tricks like this?"

"Melissa!"