Chapter 1

On my first night shift as a security guard at an upscale condo complex, my coworker nudged me to watch an explicit video on his phone.

At first, I watched with amused detachment, laughing and joking with him about what kind of fool would end up marrying a woman like that.

Then, the camera caught her bare chest. Right there was a tattoo identical to my wife’s.

It was our matching couple's tattoo from when we were dating.

No. It can't be.

It’s just a tattoo, right? People get similar designs all the time.

Then came the woman’s breathless, teasing whimper from the speaker.

"Babe, just one more time... I can’t wait any longer."

That voice. I would recognize it anywhere.

It belonged to Chloe, my wife of ten years.

In an instant, all the blood rushed straight to my head.

My hands shook uncontrollably as I gripped my phone. A toxic mixture of shame and boiling rage flared in my chest, a dull, agonizing ache that made it impossible to breathe.

Sitting next to me, Leo teased, "Whoa, Sean, chill out. What, one spicy clip got you this red in the face?"

He grinned and pulled me up. "Come on, I'll take you to the live show."

Before I could react, Leo dragged me toward a secluded corner of the underground parking garage.

Following his pointing finger, I saw a luxury BMW rocking violently on its suspension.

Through the dim amber lighting and tinted glass, I could faintly make out two pale bodies moving against each other.

And there, flashing in and out of view, was that exact same tattoo.

"Chl—" A gasp escaped my lips, but Leo clamped a hand over my mouth.

"Shut up! You want us to get fired?"

Leo hissed a warning in my ear.

The man inside was Brock, the son of one of the richest moguls in Miami, and the developer of this very property.

Ever since Leo caught them going at it during a patrol a while back, he and the other guards had made a habit of sneaking down here to watch.

"You almost ruined our favorite late-night entertainment, man."

I stared numbly at the car, feeling as cold as ice.

Lately, Chloe had become obsessed with "game nights with the girls."

Every single evening, she claimed she was going out to play cards.

Whenever the weather was terrible, pouring rain or freezing wind, I had offered to pick her up. She always flatly refused, saying it was too much hassle.

Now I knew the truth. Game night was just a pathetic cover story to sneak out and sleep with another man.

Leo didn't notice the storm brewing inside me. He was still watching with dirty fascination.

I muttered an excuse about using the restroom and stumbled away in a daze.

My chest felt suffocated, as if stuffed with wet cotton.

After pacing for a few minutes, I pulled out my phone and dialed Chloe's number.

It rang for what felt like an eternity before she finally picked up. Her voice came through breathy and uneven.

"Babe? What is it? Why are you calling?"

I forced myself to steady my breath, pretending nothing was wrong.

"Nothing. When's your game wrapping up? Should I come pick you up?"

"Didn't I tell you not to bother?"

When I stayed silent, she quickly covered her tracks.

"Babe, you just started your new job. What if your supervisor catches you sneaking out? You worked so hard to get this gig."

Every word out of her mouth sounded so considerate. If this were yesterday, I would have fallen for it completely.

"Anyway, I've got to go, it's my turn to play. Bye!"

She hung up before I could say another word.

I stood frozen in the dark corner of the garage, watching as she stepped out of the BMW, clothes disheveled, swaying her hips as she clung to Brock's arm on their way up the private elevator.

Tonight was destined to be a sleepless night—for both of us.

When I got home from my shift the next morning, Chloe was already there.

She was lounging on the couch with a sheet mask on, not even bothering to open her eyes when I walked in.

"What took you so long? Did you get the sourdough from the bakery I asked for?"

"If it’s not from that specific shop, you're turning right around and standing in line again."

"And another thing—why didn't you do the dishes before leaving for work last night? Since when did you get so lazy?"

"Are you expecting me to wait on you hand and foot?"

Just like always, she barked orders and complaints at me. When she realized I hadn't made a sound, she pulled off the corner of her mask and glared.

"What’s with the long face first thing in the morning?"

I stared at her, unblinking.

"Where were you last night?"