Chapter 1

Holden and I were in an arranged marriage.

In these five years, he never even touched my hand.

I was sick of this marriage in name only.

So I deliberately staged a fake affair.

I took some suggestive photos and sent them to Holden from a burner number.

[Mr. Sterling, your husband tastes good.]

[I've liked Silas for a long time. Why don't you divorce him and let me have him?]

Holden was the proudest man I knew, with a severe obsession with cleanliness, and he couldn't stand betrayal.

I thought after seeing those photos, he'd furiously hand me divorce papers.

But I never expected Holden to ask me, eyes bloodshot with rage:

"That bastard—who is he?"

The photos were taken at carefully chosen angles.

My collar hung loose, deliberately exposing my collarbone, and I'd pinched several suggestive red marks on my neck myself.

Even the slight tilt of my face looked like I was nestled in someone's embrace.

The photos didn't show anyone else's face—just a blurred wrist resting vaguely on my shoulder, suggestive enough, yet calculated to cut deep.

Finally, using that newly registered anonymous number, I sent the photos to Holden.

[Mr. Sterling, your husband tastes good.]

[I've liked Silas for a long time. Why don't you divorce him and let me have him?]

The moment I pressed send, I actually felt relieved.

Then I muted my phone and went to the bathroom, washing my face for a long time.

When I looked up at the mirror, I found myself smiling.

It was a smile of liberation.

I was certain Holden would divorce me.

After all, someone as proud as Holden couldn't possibly tolerate such humiliation.

I even started planning my post-divorce life.

I'd already picked out a house on the west side of the city with a ginkgo tree in the yard.

My phone screen lit up again soon—a message from Holden.

To my regular number.

I dried my hands and opened the message in front of the mirror.

In the chat box were two words, as cold as always.

[Where are you.]

I snorted. He was so cold to me, so I didn't need to be warm to him either.

I replied just as coldly with two words.

[Home.]

My message sank like a stone into the ocean. After that, I got no further response from Holden.

When the villa door opened, I was sitting on the living room sofa, toweling my dripping hair, still steaming from the bathroom.

Holden stood in the entryway for a few seconds, then walked toward the study.

His footsteps paused for an instant as they passed in front of me.

I thought he was going to say something to me, but he just glanced at me coolly before looking away.

Then the footsteps resumed, the study door opened and closed again.

I stared at Holden's retreating back disappearing through the study door, my heart pounding.

Holden didn't ask me anything.

He didn't mention the photos. He didn't mention the text message.

The confrontation I'd planned, the interrogation, even him furiously demanding a divorce on the spot—none of it happened.

Holden acted like every other ordinary evening, coming home from work and shutting himself in the study.

I froze. This wasn't how it should be.

Wasn't Holden supposed to angrily question me?

Wasn't he supposed to throw those photos of my affair in my face?

I suddenly felt disappointed.

I'd so carefully staged this betrayal, yet he didn't care at all.

Or was he waiting for me to speak first?

My mind was in chaos when my newly registered burner phone received a text from Holden.

[I don't care what trash heap you crawled out of, stay away from Silas.]

[You'd better pray I don't find you, or wherever you touched him, I'll destroy that part of you!]

My whole body froze on the sofa, all the warmth draining from me in an instant.