1 I found 21 calls to a strange number on my wife’s phone bill. Bursting into the bathroom, I confronted her—shampoo bubbles in her hair, exasperation on her face. "Call the damn number yourself if you think I’m cheating!" I did. A cheerful male voice answered: "Welcome to The Grove." Mortified, I apologized and hung up. Later, I tipped the manager, praising the "male receptionist." He frowned. "We only have female staff." That night, I checked her dashcam. Footage led me to a high-rise—registered under her mother’s name. A man in a towel opened the door. … I watched him, my eyes tracing the path of a single droplet of water as it slid down his toned abs before disappearing beneath the towel cinched at his waist. He looked five or six years younger than me, in the prime of his life. Surprise flickered in his eyes; he was clearly expecting someone else. Then I heard that same cheerful, confident voice from the phone. "You must be Ethan," he said. "I'm Sean, Katherine's distant cousin. I'm staying here while I prep for grad school." I stared at him, my expression a mask of ice. So, Katherine had already coached him on the excuse. I wondered how many times they'd rehearsed this little scene, perfecting it until not a single crack showed. If it hadn't been for that phone call, even if I'd found this place, I would have believed them. The realization sent my heart plummeting. "And you are?" he asked, extending a hand. I pushed my glasses up my nose, my gaze sweeping over him. "Oh, right, where are my manners," he said with a laugh. "The name's Sean." I ignored his outstretched hand. A mocking smile touched my lips. "You sure make yourself at home." I brushed past him and into the apartment. As our shoulders passed, I caught sight of a string of numbers tattooed on his bicep. SJ7.17 My eyes narrowed, fixating on the stylized script. He noticed my gaze and offered a casual explanation. "It's the name of my old college team and the date it was founded," he said, his tone light. "Young and full of passion back then, you know? The date felt important enough to get inked." He sounded relaxed, but I saw his eyes flicker towards me, gauging my reaction. In that moment, I knew one thing for certain. That date had everything to do with Katherine. Had they been together since college? And in all those years, I hadn't noticed a thing? A deep chill settled over me. I scanned the room. The place was clearly lived-in. Instead of a TV, a massive projector screen dominated one wall, creating a mini home theater. There was no couch, just a sleek, Japanese-style tatami mat. Beside it sat a high-end massage chair that must have cost a fortune. My mind conjured images of them, tangled together in those spots, night after passionate night. Just as I was about to step into the bedroom, the front door opened again. It was Katherine. She got here fast. I stood my ground, a faint smile playing on my lips as I watched her, her hair slightly disheveled. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, seizing the offensive. "Ethan, are you spying on me?" Her face hardened, her displeasure radiating off her like a cold wave. In the past, I would have dropped everything to soothe her anger. Now, I just gestured towards the bedroom. "Care to explain?" Her brow furrowed. She stepped in front of me, conveniently blocking my view of Sean. "What is there to explain? He's my cousin. My mom asked me to look after him. Is that a problem?" I said nothing. She let out a short, frustrated laugh and pulled out her phone, dialing her mother. "Mom, Ethan thinks I'm cheating on him. You need to explain about Sean, because he obviously won't believe a word I say." Before I could react, she shoved the phone into my hand. "Oh, Ethan, dear," my mother-in-law's warm, gentle voice came through the speaker, a sound of infinite patience for my supposed paranoia. "Sean is your distant aunt's son. I was the one who asked Kate to help him out. She probably didn't mention it because you've been so busy. It's my fault, dear, I do apologize." She continued, "You must come over for dinner soon, when you have a free evening. Now, I have to run, the girls are waiting for me for bridge. Talk to you later, dear." She hung up, leaving me standing there in stunned silence. Katherine watched me, her expression triumphant. "Satisfied now? Let's go home. Don't embarrass us in front of Sean." Beside her, Sean offered a sympathetic smile. "Don't say that, Kate. It just shows how much he cares about you. Right, Ethan?" I followed Katherine downstairs in silence. At the curb, she turned to me. "I have a meeting this afternoon. We'll settle this when I get home." She strode away, the sharp clicks of her heels on the pavement echoing her manufactured anger. She moved quickly, as if still furious at my unreasonable jealousy, and vanished around the corner. I watched her go, then lowered my gaze. After a long moment, I pulled out my phone and called my oldest friend. "Alex? I need you to run a background check on someone." That afternoon, before dinnertime, Alex sent over the files. Sean's university was different from Katherine's. Their entire life trajectories showed no overlap. On paper, he really did look like nothing more than a distant cousin. I stared at the screen, my brow tightly furrowed. A moment later, I sent Alex another message. [Check my mother-in-law. I want everything: major bills, spending records, bank statements, property transfers for the last three years.] Alex replied instantly. [Whoa, you serious? I thought you worshipped your mother-in-law. What's going on?] I didn't answer. I just switched off my phone and stared out the window, lost in thought. My affection for Katherine had extended to her entire family. She came from a single-parent home, and I’d always been grateful to her mother for raising her alone. From the day we married, I treated her like my own mother. Whenever Katherine and I argued, she was always firmly on my side. If all of that was a lie… what was real? Half an hour later, my phone rang. It was Alex. "Holy shit, man. How the hell did you figure it out? Katherine's been playing you this whole time? I sent you everything. See for yourself." I opened the file containing my mother-in-law's bank statements. Starting three years ago, almost every single month, Katherine had transferred ten thousand dollars into one of her mother's accounts. But the expenditures were all things a young college guy would want: gaming consoles, designer sneakers, luxury watches, a motorcycle. The rest were living expenses, with the most frequent purchases coming from a high-end Japanese lifestyle store. A fixed charge appeared every single week. I scrolled up and saw the date the card was opened. July 17th. I understood. It was their anniversary. I opened the second document. These were purchases made from the mother-in-law's primary account. There was the deed to the apartment they were living in. The ridiculously expensive massage chair. A sports car transferred from overseas. And every single one of these assets came with a meticulously drafted gift agreement. I started to laugh, a hollow sound in the empty room, even as a chill spread across my face. What was Katherine thinking when she arranged all this? Was she already planning the excuses she'd use if I ever found out? What kind of cold calculation was going through her head as she orchestrated this betrayal? The final document was the straw that broke me. It was the investment portfolio for a fashion design studio, opened in my mother-in-law's name. Listed under "Founder and Shareholder" was a single name. Sean. I don't remember driving home. When I came to, my car was parked in the underground garage. My phone was buzzing with notifications for traffic violations. Speeding. Running red lights. I covered my face and slumped against the steering wheel, the world spinning around me. The sudden ringing of my phone was a piercing shriek in the enclosed space. Exhausted, I answered. "Ethan, where are you? I just got a dozen speeding alerts! What happened? Are you okay?" Katherine's voice was laced with urgent concern. "I was rushing to deliver some documents," I lied. Her voice turned angry. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? Pull over right now! I'm coming to get you." I could hear the rustle of clothes as she dressed. "No need. I'm already in the garage." The sounds on her end stopped instantly. She let out a breath of relief. "Well, then get up here." When the elevator doors opened, she was waiting for me, dressed in her loungewear with a coat thrown hastily over her shoulders. Her eyes were filled with worry. She started nagging me immediately, chiding me for driving like a reckless teenager. I watched her, this woman who stood before me, feigning concern for my safety while meticulously paving the road for another man. That night, after Katherine was asleep, I contacted a new lawyer. I had him start assessing our assets and sent him all the records I had, telling him to prepare for the worst. The next morning, I woke up to find Katherine had, for the first time in ages, made breakfast. "I have a client meeting over in Blue Bay today," she said. "It's on your way to the office. Can you give me a ride?" I looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. Now was not the time to blow this up. I needed more evidence. On the drive, my phone started ringing incessantly. Just as I was about to answer, Katherine snatched it from the console and ended the call. "Don't tell me you're hiding a little secret of your own," she teased, turning my own accusations back on me with a playful smile. The hypocrisy made me want to laugh. She playfully refused to let me answer any more calls. When we arrived at my office building, I saw my assistant waiting for me by the entrance. As I walked up, he hesitated for a moment before asking cautiously, "Sir, have you had any contact with a studio called SJ recently?" The familiar initials made my breath catch in my throat. A wave of nausea and a terrible premonition washed over me. "No. Why?" He quickly handed me his tablet. It displayed a dozen design sketches. My world tilted on its axis. I stared at the familiar elements, a furious fire igniting in my chest. I strode to my office. "Give me the full report," I commanded. It turned out that this SJ studio had just released a series of concept designs and had already registered the copyrights. The design elements—the unique patterns, the signature cuts—were nearly identical to my company's flagship product for the upcoming season. The real problem was that, to build suspense, we hadn't publicly released any of the designs yet. The product line was already in production. The celebrity endorsement deals were already signed. This meant that if consumers believed we were the copycats, the company would suffer catastrophic losses. Worse, it would destroy our relationships with our partners. An icy chill crept down my spine. The first person I thought of was Katherine. I never imagined that to build a future for Sean, she would be willing to sacrifice the company I built from the ground up as a burnt offering. Before I could even begin to formulate a plan, another assistant burst into my office. "Mr. Hayes, the plagiarist… he's on a live interview right now." I shot up from my chair and grabbed the phone. There on the screen was Sean, appearing on a popular business news program. He looked clean-cut and boyish, the charming guy next door. He handled the host's sharp questions with a calm confidence that was winning over the audience. When asked why his studio was named SJ, he grinned and casually rolled up his sleeve, revealing the tattoo on his bicep. "It's to honor someone very important to me," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I want her name to be not just in my heart, but on my body, in my life. I want her to be everywhere." The host swooned. "That must be your partner! Would you mind sharing your story with us?" He shook his head with a shy smile. "I promised her I wouldn't mention her in public without her permission." A few comments popped up in the live chat. [Can't mention her? Why not? Is she married or something?] [Whoa, the person above might be onto something. If it's so epic, why the secrecy?] [You guys are just jealous. Maybe it's their private little thing. Get a life.] The comments section erupted into a debate. I stared blankly at the screen. Then the host asked another question. "So, what was the inspiration for this design collection? And why did you name it 'The Orchid Hour'?" Sean froze for a fraction of a second. The host pressed on. "Does it mean you met your special someone when the orchids were in bloom? Is she a fan of a particular kind, perhaps?" He was clearly stumped. I had no idea why the host was pressing this point. But Sean recovered quickly. He gave a slight wink to the camera, a mysterious smile playing on his lips, and said nothing more. I watched the screen, my voice a low whisper in the silent office. "'A beautiful moment, destined to fade. The orchid hour does not linger.'" That was the line that had inspired the entire collection. I never thought it would become a prophecy for my own life.
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