Chapter 1

While simmering some broth on the stove for my husband—a prestigious hospital director who hadn't come home in three days due to "back-to-back shifts"—I stumbled upon a post on Ins.

It was a young woman in an ultra-short mini skirt showing off a new gift.

“Huge thanks to Mr. Director for the extra special care.”

I was about to swipe past it when something caught my eye. The bracelet on her wrist was identical to mine.

My brother had commissioned an Italian jewelry designer to custom-make that exact piece just for me. It was a one-of-a-kind. There was no way anyone else had it.

And mine had mysteriously vanished two days ago.

Without a second thought, I dialed my husband.

"Julian, where are you right now?"

"Why the sudden question? At the hospital, of course. I have a surgical symposium to lead in a few minutes."

Julian Vance's answer was smooth, practiced, and utterly seamless.

"Julian, my custom bracelet went missing. Have you seen it?"

He paused for a beat. When he spoke again, his tone was nonchalant, effortlessly soothing.

"Did you misplace it in some corner? Don't worry. I'll help you look for it when I get home tonight."

"If we can't find it, I'll buy you a new one."

I cut him off.

"Never mind. I'll keep looking."

I hung up and immediately dialed my brother—the true majority shareholder and owner behind Julian's hospital.

"Julian is cheating on me. I want him ruined."

There was a three-second silence on the other end of the line.

"Chloe, are you sure you didn't get something wrong? Julian... would he really...?"

I slipped off the diamond band from my ring finger. The rock I had personally picked out now looked dull and lifeless.

"He took my things and gave them to his little side piece."

My voice was dead calm. "The custom bracelet you had made for me? It's on her wrist right now."

"Get me the best divorce attorneys in the city. I want all of his illegal dealings exposed. I'm taking everything."

My brother didn't hesitate for another second. "Consider it done."

Half an hour later, an encrypted file landed on my phone.

I opened the first photo. It was Julian with his arm wrapped tightly around a stunning, youthful brunette.

The photos that followed were even more explicit—shots of them wrapped together on an on-call bed inside the private hospital wing.

Looking at the picture of her straddling Julian, a wave of pure nausea washed over me.

Her sleeve cuffs even had the matching designer cufflinks Julian always wore.

I grabbed my keys and drove straight to the hospital.

Minutes later, the woman—a nurse named Sophie Moore—was summoned out of the nursing department. She found herself standing directly in front of me.

The moment she saw my face, all color drained from her cheeks. Her instincts kicked in, and she reflexively shoved her hands behind her back.

Too late. I had already seen it. The handbag draped over her forearm was a limited-edition piece from a high-end luxury house I frequented.

The exact same model I had received for my birthday last year.

I let out a cold smirk and spoke directly.

"Miss Moore, your bag looks strikingly familiar. It's almost an exact match to the one my husband bought me. Down to the consecutive serial numbers, I'd bet."

Sophie began to tremble, her red lips parting and closing before she stammered, "Oh... really? I guess... men just have similar taste in gifts..."

Her knuckles were white from clutching the hem of her uniform.

"Drop the innocent act. You're Julian's mistress, aren't you?"

Seeing that I had laid all my cards on the table, Sophie began shaking violently, panic written all over her face.

"Please don't misunderstand! Dr. Vance just had an episode of low blood sugar and fainted once, and I took care of him! That's all it was! You've got it all wrong!"

With that, she gave an exaggerated ninety-degree bow.

She put on such a pitiful, fragile display that if I hadn't already seen the dirty photos of her wrapped around Julian, I might have actually fallen for it.

I had already dug through her social media trail.

Two weeks ago, she posted a video clip.

It showed Julian bidding on an exorbitant piece of diamond jewelry for her at a private auction.

Her caption read: [A man's heart is wherever his wallet opens.]

At that exact time, I was at home, delirious with a raging fever.

I had called Julian, begging him to come home and take care of me.

He had sounded frantic for a split second, but his voice turned raspy and tense—like he was holding back a breath.

"Chloe, I'll have the maid take you to the ER. I'm scrubbed in for an emergency surgery; I can't leave."

An hour later, I developed severe pneumonia and was being resuscitated in the emergency room of my own family's hospital.

Meanwhile, she had posted a photo of herself lying in a penthouse suite next to a shirtless man.

His washboard abs were clearly visible, dotted with fresh, passionate hickeys.

Her caption: [My permanent mark on you forever.]

When Julian finally rushed into my hospital room that night, the buttons on the dress shirt under his white coat were mismatched.

He threw himself over my bedside, eyes red-rimmed with tears.

Back then, I naively thought he was crying out of sheer terror of losing me.

Now I knew better. It was nothing more than post-coital guilt after a dirty hookup.

A wave of disgust hit me. Julian actually betrayed me for a piece of trash like this?

I couldn't stand looking at her fake, teary face for another second. I turned on my heel and walked away.

The second I got into my car, Julian's name flashed on my screen.

The moment I picked up, his tone was rushed and anxious.

"Why did you go to the hospital all of a sudden?"