Chapter 1

My husband, Keith Sullivan, was over 30 years old. One day, the usually serious man suddenly became obsessed with pink.

The dark-colored furniture we had owned for ten years was replaced with pink-colored ones. Even the utensils Keith picked up at random were pink.

I stared at the pajamas, bow ties, and underwear he hung on the balcony—all pink. It was very strange.

"Didn't you always hate pink and say it was a color that only women liked?" I asked.

Keith was unpacking a new pink bedding set and didn't even turn to look at me.

"Oh, I made a bet with Quentin. If I turn everything in the house pink, he'll give me his seaside villa," he replied. "Pink's pretty nice once you get used to it, right?"

I didn't even respond. Instead, I called Keith's friend, Quentin Monroe, to ask about it.

Quentin blurted out, "What seaside villa? I don't remember ever buying one."

After I hung up, I looked at Keith, who was lost in the sea of pink in our bedroom. My intuition told me he was cheating on me.

But after more than ten years together, I thought I knew him well. I didn't want to jump to conclusions.

After some hesitation, I decided to ask Quentin again. Maybe he had just placed the bet casually and forgotten about it.

The next moment, Quentin seemed to guess my suspicions.

He replied just as I expected, "Sorry, my memory slipped. I just remembered what you asked me about.

"That did happen. We had a little too much to drink on Keith's birthday. I joked that if he decorated his place pink, I would give him the seaside villa.

"It's just been so long ago that I forgot. Sorry about that, Ann. Please don't misunderstand him."

I read his weak, flimsy explanation and replied, "It's fine."

Keith's birthday had been two months ago, but his sudden obsession with pink started just a month ago. That was just an excuse full of inconsistencies.

I looked at the pink couch cover that I was sitting on. After a moment, I finally sent a message to my assistant, Taylor Fisher.

"I need you to look into Keith for me."

When I was done, I looked around at the pile of pink things scattered throughout the house.

From things as small as utensils to large furniture and even the curtains, the color pink seemed to infest everything. I even felt as if it had seeped into my skin. That sent chills through me, leaving me feeling completely uneasy.

Just as I was putting away several pink ornaments, Keith walked out of the bedroom. He presented a pink stuffed toy to me as if showing off something precious.

"Ann, don't you think it's cute?" Keith asked.

Seeing the indifference in my expression, he immediately turned serious. "If you don't like it, I'll just throw it away. It won't be an eyesore for you."

Then, he walked to the trash can. When he saw I had already thrown out a pink vase he brought home, he froze for a moment. He said nothing about it and tossed the toy in too.

When he turned back to me, he was wearing a gentle smile.

"I thought you would like these kinds of things. Since you don't, I'll get rid of all of them once the bet with Quentin is over, okay?"

He seemed to forget that I never cared for cute or childish things.

I stayed silent until evening, and he had no choice but to change the bedding back.

That night, he suddenly pressed down on me. "Are you still mad?"

As he spoke, the pink rhinestone stud in his left ear caught the light. He had gotten it only a month ago, too.

I felt a surge of irritation and pushed him away, replying that I wasn't.

Only then did he stop, as if he had completed a mission. Then, he grabbed his phone and went into the bathroom.

After that, he didn't come out for a long time.

Something suddenly occurred to me, and I turned his computer on. The password was my birthday, and as soon as I opened WhatsApp, the messages synced and popped up.

A woman with a cutesy pink profile picture had sent him a message.

"Are you wearing the pink underwear I got you?"

My heart lurched, and then I saw Keith's reply.

"I am."

The woman said she wanted to check. Keith took a photo and sent it without hesitation.

She replied in satisfaction, "What a good little puppy."

My whole view of Keith collapsed. I kept scrolling up and saw more messages that left me stunned.

In my mind, Keith had always been a serious and proper man. I never imagined that one day I would find him calling a strange woman his owner.

I found the woman's Instagram and opened it. It was all in pink, and she never showed her face.

Her updates were frequent. There were matching pajamas, hotels, slippers, and all sorts of props. Everything was in pink.

In the videos, the man was kneeling in some or lying down in others, but he never showed his face. However, I still recognized him from the deep ring mark on his ring finger.

It was Keith.

My husband of ten years.

Chapter 2

The woman flaunted herself openly on her Instagram feed, and every caption she posted made me cringe.

She wrote, "A training guide for puppies."

"The puppy was a little naughty today."

"Everyone, I took the dog out today. Did you go for a walk too?"

Every scroll was a struggle, and agony spread through my whole body as I continued reading.

I could hardly believe my eyes. For over a decade, Keith had always been so proper and old-fashioned, yet he secretly had this kind of fetish!

I remembered when Keith and I first came across that group. He looked disgusted and said those people were sick.

But when I got to the woman's post from a month ago, she was bragging with glee. "The aloof older guy I've been after finally agreed to be my puppy. Everyone, am I dreaming?"

Memories from that day flashed through my mind.

Keith had been unusually excited. After years of marriage, he treated intimacy like it was routine.

But that day, he was uncharacteristically eager. He had turned me around over and over again, tiring me out relentlessly.

I had thought it was because he had just returned from a business trip and that a short separation had reignited the passion.

Now I finally know the reason. That had been the last time Keitha acted like a decent human being.

The woman with the pink profile picture was still texting, and their conversation made me sick to my stomach.

When I heard a sound from the bathroom, I quickly turned off the computer and threw myself into bed.

Keith returned and lay down without a word. The bedroom was so silent that I couldn't fall asleep.

Suddenly, my mind flashed with memories of every moment we shared.

Keith and I had both gone through a long, painful journey growing up until we met each other. We then encouraged each other forward and shared every milestone in our lives.

I stood by him as he rose from being penniless to building a fortune in the billions. But somewhere along the way, we went from sharing everything to being strangers in the same bed.

When Keith was 18 years old, he got down on one knee. There was a burning intensity in his eyes as he proposed to me.

"Ann, marry me. You'll be the only one in my life."

Now, at 34 years old, he lay with his back to me. The faint glow from his phone lit the ceiling and caught the tears in my eyes.

I could not understand why he had suddenly changed.

Had Keith hidden this too well, or had I never truly known him?

The man who never dared kiss me in public, whose heart raced and face blushed just from holding my hand, seemed to have died in my memories.

I stayed awake until morning and only got up after Keith left.

My phone held the information sent by Taylor. As I stared at the woman's youthful face, I scrolled back and forth to make sure I wasn't mistaken.

I realized that this woman was the same little girl Keith and I once sponsored.

Her name was Daisy Lennox. Seven years ago, Keith and I had gone to visit her. She was only 13 years old.

Daisy held my hand and whispered, "Ann, you and Keith are so kind to me. You're like my parents."

Now at 20 years old, she was no longer the malnourished child we knew. She had grown into a beautiful and delicate woman.

I had once worried that Daisy would meet people with ill intentions while living in that kind of environment. I even told her to come to me if anyone bullied her.

But I never expected that the one with ill intentions would be my very own husband, Keith.

I began to wonder how they ended up together and how old Daisy had been.

The more I thought about it, the sicker I felt. In an instant, I clutched a trash can and threw up violently.

Afterward, I went to the living room. On the table was a pink mug filled with milk Keith had heated up for me.

I was lactose intolerant.

Meanwhile, Daisy had posted on her Instagram. "Not a drop of the puppy's milk left. It's all for me."

I vomited again. I threw the milk to the floor, and the sound of shattering glass did nothing to calm me.

After smashing several pink items, I regained some sense of control and sat on the ruined pink couch. Then, I pulled out my phone to call Taylor.

"Draft the divorce papers. The sooner, the better," I said.

Taylor heard the hoarseness in my voice and asked with concern, "Ms. Larson, are you okay?"

How could I be okay after being betrayed by two people who were closest to me?

But I didn't have time to wallow in self-pity, so I said, "Get me the best divorce lawyer and a private investigator."

Taylor immediately perked up and said, "Don't worry, Ms. Larson. I won't let you down!"

Chapter 3

A few days later, the private investigator called me, and I headed to the hotel.

It was Lara Grant's birthday. She was also Daisy's mother. Keith had used a business trip as an excuse to gather Daisy's family and friends for the celebration.

I watched as Keith moved through the preparations like he was part of the family, calm and in control.

Daisy, in a layered gown full of frills and tiers, walked up to him daintily and linked her arm with his. Her family and friends cheered and laughed at the sight.

"Keith, my daughter's in your hands now. Take good care of her, okay?"

"You helped raise her, and now she's all yours."

I watched as Keith, swept up in the crowd, treated Daisy's parents as if they were his own.

It was absurd. He was only ten years younger than them!

Halfway through dinner, Daisy got drunk, and Keith guided her to the restroom.

In the hallway, they pressed close together. Daisy stood on her tiptoes and hooked her finger under Keith's chin.

"Call me Mistress."

There were people around, and Keith looked embarrassed as he coaxed her. "Let's wait until we get home, okay?"

Daisy refused to back down. Finally, Keith surrendered. He held her as he called her "Mistress" over and over again.

Experiencing it in person was nothing like reading about it. I thought I had accepted the reality, but my mind reeled all over again at the sight of them.

I held onto the wall as I struggled for a long while to keep the bile down.

I suddenly recalled the first time we visited his hometown. His parents were dissatisfied with my education and openly criticized me.

Keith immediately took my hand and left. As the sun set, the tears in his eyes sowed a quiet hope deep in my heart.

"Ann, no one in this world can ever treat you badly. Not even me."

I also remembered our first meeting with Daisy. She wore brand-new clothes that must have been stored for years. With a handful of wildflowers she picked in her hands, she smiled at us sincerely.

"Keith, Ann, I hope the two of you will stay happy forever," she said.

Why did people who loved so deeply always get betrayed? I had done something good, so how did it end up this way?

A chill ran through me as I trembled and slowly sank to the floor.

I could hear Daisy's petulant voice from not far away. "When are you finally going to divorce that old hag?"

In her pink Mary Janes, she stepped on Keith's black leather shoes and looped her arms around his neck.

"Keith, I know you feel guilty. Sometimes I feel bad for her too since she's been so kind to me," Daisy said. "But from the moment I fell in love with you, I swore I would never give up, no matter how hard it got.

"It's also fine if you don't divorce her. Don't worry. The day you get tired of me, I'll leave and never bother you again."

Keith, who had been silent, suddenly looked a little anxious. "I won't let you leave me."

My heart plummeted. Yet, it felt as if I was finally released from my suffering after endless torment.

After collecting all the evidence and printing out every bank statement, I gathered it all together and sent it to my lawyer.

Finally, I called Keith.

On the tenth try, he finally answered. "Ann, what is it?"

Before I could speak, he said impatiently, "We can talk later. I'm in a meeting—"

I interrupted him calmly, "Keith, we need to talk."

Thanks to my childhood, I had always been extremely sensitive and quick to overthink.

Keith knew that about me very well.

In the past, I found a stray hair that wasn't mine on his jacket. It was enough to trace it to the business partner in a red dress who tried to seduce Keith.

I had pretended not to notice for the sake of the deal. But Keith took the initiative to cancel the contract and find a new partner.

His gaze then was filled with determination. He said, "Ann, I know you're sensitive, so I would never give you a reason to feel insecure."

Now, I spoke slowly, each word deliberate. "Keith, if our ten-plus years together still mean anything to you, come home now."

Chapter 4

Keith stayed silent on the phone.

Then, Daisy's voice cut in. "Keith, the little cake on my head is crooked."

Keith tried to cover it up as he replied, "Ann, I'm in a meeting now."

Then, he hung up in a hurry.

When I called back, he had turned off his phone. At the same time, the private investigator sent me the videos from the hotel.

He said, "Everything's ready. At the start of next month, things will be exactly as you want them."

Thinking back on Keith and Daisy's conversation, I no longer hesitated. I followed through with my plan.

Until today, I had wondered if Keith was just under too much pressure. Or if Daisy, being so young, had been seduced by him.

I had wanted to handle it quietly and understand what had really happened. But with what happened earlier, I realized they didn't deserve my understanding.

I began the divorce process and sold all my shares at a low price.

Keith and Daisy continued with their little act without any restraint.

In the meantime, I set up a new business and brought our partners over to my side.

Keith bought Daisy a pink, princess-themed villa. He even moved her parents in, and the whole family seemed happy together.

I bought myself a new apartment and started moving my belongings.

Later, Keith booked the most luxurious hotel in the city and organized a birthday party for Daisy.

He returned home just as I was moving the last box of my things. Seeing the empty living room and the pink fragments in the trash, he fumbled with the pink bouquet in his hand.

"Ann, are you shifting things around?"

I thought he had finally come to his senses. But in the very next moment, he arranged the bouquet neatly in a vase.

"I just bought some pink things for the house. Was it really necessary to tear everything apart and redecorate? How troublesome is that?" His tone carried a hint of blame.

I blinked and couldn't help but feel a pang of bitterness.

I said, "I don't like pink."

Keith froze, and a hint of guilt flashed in his eyes.

"Throw it away if you don't like it. As long as you're happy," he said. "I have to go now. I'll spend time with you when I'm done."

I didn't try to stop him or question him.

I called his name, watching him as he walked away without looking back.

Keith turned around, puzzled. When our eyes met, a flash of uneasiness flickered across his expression. He looked flustered.

The next moment, I smiled softly and said, "It's nothing. You can go."

All of you can leave.

I didn't want Keith anymore, at 18 or 34 years old.

Only then did Keith seem to calm down. He said, "Okay. I'll be back after I'm done."

He had barely left when I took the last of my things and walked out.

The house was then listed with an agent. I sent all of Keith's belongings to Daisy's new place, cash on delivery.

…

On Daisy's birthday, I looked around the venue, filled with pink balloons and an obscenely expensive cake. I remembered our small, simple wedding with only two tables of guests. Keith had promised that once we were rich, he would throw me a proper celebration.

But once he became wealthy, the first thing he did was fall out of love with me.

I picked up the microphone and spoke to the control room.

"You may begin."

The lights went out, leaving the venue in complete darkness.

The space erupted in murmurs, and some complained, "Why is the power out?

"It's such a huge hotel, and they can't even afford electricity?"

Daisy looked upset, and Keith quickly comforted her.

"It's fine. I'll go check what's going on," he said.

Suddenly, the screen lit up.

There were videos of Keith and Daisy's roleplays. One showed uncensored footage of Keith on all fours, begging, played out before everyone.

Daisy's face went pale in an instant. Her parents left the venue immediately out of embarrassment.

Only Keith instinctively glanced around.

I stepped onto the stage, microphone in hand, and faced them.

"My darling husband, do both of you like my birthday present for Daisy?"