Chapter 1

I found a pair of battered-up lingerie stockings in my girlfriend's bag.

My gaze locked on the irregular yellowish stains on them, and I froze.

I stayed silent, doing nothing but secretly pouring some fiery hot chili oil into the lube.

From that day on, I became a regular at the hospital.

Not for me, though. It was for the genes of a Black man.

The day she gave birth, she clutched the newborn Black baby, her expression manic, as if struck by lightning.

"No, wait, who put this in my belly?!"

Chloe and I had been together for almost two years, but things had never gotten truly intimate.

She swore she was old-fashioned, that she was saving herself for our wedding night.

I chuckled and nodded, trusting her completely.

Until yesterday night, when I found a pair of heavily used lace stockings in her pocket.

The yellowish stains on the stockings were crystal clear. I didn't even need to lean in to smell it. That sickening, acrid odor… any man would know exactly what had happened.

My vision blurred.

It felt like a physical blow.

We weren't young anymore, and both our families were pushing us to get married.

So, a couple of days ago, I suggested we go for pre-marital health screenings. But Chloe seemed hesitant.

"Liam, I think that's a bit too soon…"

I just thought she was shy and didn't suspect a thing.

"Chloe, it's not too soon. We're getting married soon anyway. Besides, with the screenings, we can get extra vacation days for our honeymoon! You've always wanted to go to Hawaii and Europe, right? We can get it all done at once."

Memories flooded my mind, and my blood ran cold.

The sound of rushing water from the bathroom was fading. Chloe was almost done with her shower.

I quickly put the stockings back where I found them.

But my mind was already racing, unable to stop.

When did she betray me?

Two months ago, Chloe, who never wore stockings, suddenly, inexplicably, bought two pairs.

She complained to me, saying the faculty really valued her and would often send her to academic conferences.

She was too junior, so she'd just be there as a formality, standing all day.

She said she read online that wearing stockings could effectively protect her calves, and told me not to overthink it.

I didn't sense anything was wrong; I just felt bad for her.

But now, who could tell me what kind of standing position could turn a pair of stockings into *this*?

I was dazed, feeling like I’d fallen into an ice abyss.

Just then, Chloe emerged from the bathroom.

I walked towards her, my hand barely touching her waist before she slapped it away.

"Liam, please respect me! I told you I'm traditional. Can you just respect that?!"

*Slam!* The bedroom door was violently shut.

I gritted my teeth, rage churning inside me.

I don't respect you?

Touching my own girlfriend is disrespectful, huh?

Then what the hell is *this* 'battle-damaged' stocking from your academic conference?!

I clamped down on my fury, refusing to explode right then and there.

That night, I stayed awake on the balcony, not sleeping a wink.

I'd heard grad students could be pretty wild. Had she hooked up with some younger guy?

I suppressed my anger and secretly followed her for several days, but found nothing suspicious.

The next day, I staked out her university entrance early.

At six in the evening, she appeared near the gate.

She was alone, but she kept looking around, a clear sign she was waiting for someone.

I pulled my hat lower and moved to a higher vantage point.

Almost simultaneously, a smile suddenly bloomed on Chloe's face. She raised her arm, waving in a certain direction.

I clenched my fists, staring intently.

At the edge of my vision, a figure appeared.

I didn't rush out blindly to beat him senseless, as I’d imagined I would.

Instead, I stood frozen, bewildered.

It was indeed a man.

And I knew him.

He was Chloe's mentor, Dr. Marcus Thorne, in his late fifties.

Chloe had told me before that he'd pulled a lot of strings to help her attend those academic conferences.

The two exchanged polite greetings and walked out of the university gate.

Everything seemed perfectly normal.

I felt a mix of bewilderment and relief.

Maybe it was just my remaining fondness for her, acting up because I hadn't caught her red-handed.

But the next moment, I felt like I'd plunged into an ice abyss again.

As Chloe got into the car, the man, in a gentlemanly gesture, used his left hand to shield the car door, while his right hand slipped into Chloe's chest.

Chloe shyly pulled back, but quickly pushed her chest out again, provocatively flashing her cleavage.