Chapter 1

For nine years, after we got married, Scarlett Hayes had an endless stream of admirers.

She reveled in having young, impressionable guys fall head over heels for her.

I pretended to be understanding and tolerant, letting her enjoy herself.

We maintained this unspoken understanding for nine years.

Until I was strong enough, I walked away without a second glance.

That night, Scarlett smashed everything in the house, grabbing my collar and screaming:

"So, all these years, you never loved me!"

Love? No. What I truly loved, what I truly wanted, was power and wealth. Nothing else.

I was experimenting with a new way to brew tea when the doorbell rang late one evening.

Slipping on my house shoes, I went to open it.

A drunken Scarlett stumbled straight into me.

Behind her, the young man supporting her stepped forward, smiling.

"Julian," he chirped, "Ms. Hayes had too much to drink, so I brought her home."

The guy, Leo Stone, was young, vibrant, and his smile radiated sunshine, utterly devoid of any aggression.

He was Scarlett's standard "boy toy" type.

I gently pushed Scarlett back into his arms, my voice even.

"There are fresh pajamas in the bottom drawer of the closet. Feel free to pick any style you like."

I paused, then added, "I'm a light sleeper. Keep the noise down tonight."

Leo probably hadn't expected me to be so… magnanimous, in the face of his affair with my wife.

His eyes widened, and his words came out in a stutter.

"J-J-Julian, I'm not staying the night—"

He carefully helped Scarlett onto the sofa, his movements gentle, full of affection.

Then, he flashed a shy smile at me.

"Julian, thanks for taking care of Ms. Hayes."

He deliberately stressed the word 'thanks,' acting like he was the one in charge. It was almost comical.

I found myself mildly amused.

The young man's attempt to stake his claim was rather clumsy.

"When it comes to taking care of people, our housekeeper is far more adept."

Leo's face fell, and he went silent.

I couldn't be bothered to say more. After seeing him out, I turned back to the kitchen.

"He's just a kid brother. Why are you getting so worked up?"

Scarlett's voice drifted from behind me, without a hint of the drunken slur she'd had earlier.

She walked up, wrapping her arms around me from behind.

"Don't worry, he won't threaten your position."

I calmly poured out the tea from my cup, offering no reply.

Scarlett always loved to bring up "position" when she was around me.

As if that word alone.

Should make me wag my tail, begging for her favor, eternally grateful for being her husband.

But that position, I *did* care about it.

Not because I loved her.

But because of the advantages it brought me.