Chapter 1

At the live broadcast of the university's New Year's Gala, a world-famous pop star smiled as he handed a signed photo to my husband.

His gaze swept over the woman standing beside him, and he offered a warm blessing.

"Professor Carter, you and your wife look absolutely beautiful together."

My stepsister lowered her head, blushing deeply.

Julian, however, remained silent.

He didn't explain that she wasn't his wife.

At that moment, I finally realized that the woman he loved—the one he loved most—was my stepsister. The same girl who had bullied me for ten agonizing years.

The boy who once held a pocketknife, standing in front of me and swearing he would protect me forever...

In the end, he became the hand that stabbed me the deepest.

My phone suddenly lit up.

The sender was Julian's colleague, Ashley.

[Chloe, Happy New Year! Are you feeling any better? Julian said you were too sick to come. What a shame!]

[Julian went out of his way to get his autograph for you. Get well soon!]

Attached below was a photo of the signed poster of the pop star I had adored for years.

Too sick?

[What do you mean?]

Ashley's reply came almost instantly on Snapchat, accompanied by a string of shocked emojis.

[Oh? Julian told us you were bedridden with a raging fever. That's why he had to give the plus-one ticket to your stepsister. Everyone was praising him for being such a thoughtful husband!]

I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white.

My husband, who was normally so upright he'd feel guilty for running a yellow light, had actually learned to lie like this.

Since when did he and Stella get so close?

I stiffly looked up at the TV screen. The live camera happened to catch them.

The pop star finished signing, glanced back and forth between Julian and Stella, and complimented them.

"Professor Carter, you and your wife are such a stunning couple. You look perfect together."

Stella blushed, biting her lip. "Thank you," she murmured shyly.

Julian, facing this obvious misunderstanding, only pursed his lips with slight awkwardness.

He didn't correct them. He tacitly allowed everyone to believe Stella was his wife.

On TV, the New Year's countdown ended, and brilliant fireworks exploded across the screen.

But I felt a cold chill creep up my spine, freezing my heart.

At 3:00 AM, the front door clicked open.

Julian was back.

He flipped on the lights. Seeing me sitting silently on the sofa, he froze for a second.

Then he walked over, his voice filled with gentle scolding.

"Why are the lights off? Why are you still up? Didn't I tell you not to wait up for me?"

He complained about the terrible traffic after the gala.

As he took off his cold overcoat, he reached out and took my hands.

"Why are your hands so cold?"

He wrapped my hands in his warm palms, trying to warm me up.

Everything seemed the same.

He was still that attentive, loving husband.

But I could clearly smell the sweet, cloying scent of peach perfume on him.

It was Stella's favorite peach blossom fragrance.

I didn't want to hold back anymore.

I pulled my hands away and went straight to the point.

"Why did you give the gala invite to Stella?"

Julian's brows furrowed, the tenderness on his face instantly vanishing.

"Chloe, what is that supposed to mean? Don't you trust me?"

He sighed, rubbing his temples.

"I'm exhausted today. It's New Year's. Can we please not fight? The most important thing between a married couple is trust..."

His words died in his throat when I lifted my phone.

The Snapchat chat log between Ashley and me glowed stark white in the dim room.

His lips twitched in embarrassment. He said stiffly, "She's your sister, after all. There was only one extra ticket. What difference does it make who I gave it to?"

"She is not my sister!"

I practically screamed, the emotions I had bottled up all night finally exploding.

"You could have given it to anyone, Julian! Anyone but her! You know exactly what she did to me!"