1 My husband called a strange number 21 times this week. I stormed into the bathroom, ready for a confrontation. He was standing there with a head full of shampoo, looking exasperated. "If you think I'm cheating, call the number yourself! Call whoever you want!" The door slammed shut. I was sure he was bluffing. But when I dialed, it connected almost instantly. A sweet female voice answered. "Thank you for calling The Orchid House. How can I help you?" The Orchid House was my favorite restaurant. Awkwardly, I hung up. Later, when I went there for dinner, I specifically mentioned it to the manager. "The girl who answers your phone is very professional. Here's a tip for her." The manager looked confused. "Ma'am, we don't have a receptionist. Our calls are handled by an AI system now. It's the trend." I pretended I had misremembered and calmly finished my meal. That night, I checked my husband's dashcam footage. Sure enough, I found the address of a property registered under my mother-in-law's name. When I knocked on the door, a woman answered wearing nothing but a silk slip. ... The woman in front of me looked five or six years younger than me, radiating that specific confidence of youth. She showed off her body shamelessly, not a hint of awkwardness on her face. Water droplets from her wet hair traced a path down her collarbone, disappearing into her neckline. She seemed surprised to see me, clearly expecting someone else. Then I heard that familiar, sweet voice. "You must be Mark's wife? I'm his distant cousin, Sarah. I'm staying here while I study for grad school." I stared at her coldly. Mark had really prepared everything, even the script. I wondered how many times they had rehearsed this. It was flawless. If not for that phone call, even finding this place wouldn't have made me suspicious. Realizing this, my heart sank. "And you are?" I looked her up and down, unimpressed. "Oh right, I forgot to introduce myself." "I'm Sarah Miller." She extended a hand. I let out a scoff. "Awfully friendly, aren't you?" I ignored her hand and walked past her into the apartment. As we brushed shoulders, I noticed a tattoo on her upper arm. SJ 7.17 My pupils contracted. A weird sixth sense kicked in. I knew she was silently marking her territory. I stared at the stylized font. She noticed my gaze, of course. She explained casually. "SJ stands for the band I was in during college. That's the date we formed." She pointed at the date. "I was young and impulsive. Thought it was the most important day of my life, so I got it inked." Her tone was light, but she was watching me from the corner of her eye. I read the message in her gaze loud and clear. That date was her anniversary with Mark. Had they been together since college? Four years of marriage, and I hadn't noticed a thing. My gaze turned icy as I scanned the room. It was lived-in. No TV in the living room, just a massive projector screen. A home theater setup. No sofa, just a Japanese-style tatami mat. Next to it was an expensive massage chair. I could almost see the countless passionate nights they had spent here. Just as I was about to head for the bedroom, the front door opened again. It was Mark. He got here fast. I stood in the doorway, a smirk playing on my lips, watching him run in, tie askew—so unlike his usual polished self. "What are you doing here?" He went on the offensive immediately. "Susan, are you investigating me?" His brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. He was clearly unhappy. In the past, I would have dropped everything to soothe him. Now, I just pointed at the bedroom. "Care to explain?" He frowned, walking up to me. Conveniently blocking my view of Sarah. "What's there to explain? She's my cousin. My mom asked me to look out for her. Is that a crime?" I didn't say anything. He let out a frustrated laugh. He pulled out his phone and called his mother right there. "Mom, Susan thinks I'm cheating. Can you explain Sarah to her? She won't believe a word I say." He shoved the phone into my hands while I stared in shock. "Susan, honey? Sarah is your distant aunt's kid. I told Mark to look after her. He's been so busy he probably forgot to mention it. I'm sorry, dear." On the phone, my mother-in-law's voice was warm and forgiving. Like she was indulging a paranoid child. "Susan, come over for dinner when you're free, okay? I have a bridge game starting, gotta run." After she hung up, the shock lingered. Mark looked at me smugly. "Believe me now? Stop making a scene. You're embarrassing yourself in front of Sarah." Sarah stood beside him with an understanding smile. "Mark, don't be mean. It just shows how much Susan cares about you." "Right, Susan?" I silently followed Mark downstairs. He turned to me. "I have a meeting. We'll talk about this at home." He acted like he was still angry about my 'unreasonable' behavior. His steps were heavy, but he left quickly. Watching his car drive away, I lowered my eyes. After a moment, I called my best friend. "I need you to run a background check on someone." 2 Before dinner time, my friend sent over the file. Sarah graduated from a different university than Mark. Their lives had zero intersection. It looked like she really was just a distant cousin. I frowned deeply. After a moment, I texted my friend again. [Run a check on my mother-in-law. Last three years. Large transactions, spending records, bank statements, property transfers. Everything.] She replied instantly. [Are you crazy? You treat that woman like your own mother.] [Why investigate her?] of all people? I didn't reply. The screen went dark, and I stared out the window. Maybe because I loved Mark, I loved his family too. He was from a single-parent home. I always respected how hard his mother worked to raise him. Since our wedding day, I treated her like my own flesh and blood. Whenever Mark and I fought, she always stood by my side. If even that was a lie... what was real? Thirty minutes later. My friend called. "Holy shit. That bastard is cheating. How did you know?" "Mark has been playing you for years? I sent everything. See for yourself." I opened his mother's bank statements. Starting three years ago. Mark transferred ten thousand dollars to one of her cards almost every month. But the spending wasn't typical for an older woman. Designer clothes, jewelry, bags, collectibles. And daily expenses. The most frequent transactions were at a Japanese boutique. Almost a fixed weekly expense. I scrolled up to the account opening date. July 17th. I understood. That was the day they got together. Then I opened the second file. Transactions from his mother's main card. The apartment they were using now. A massage chair worth thousands. A sports car imported from overseas. And all of these... Had clear gift deeds signed. I laughed, but my face felt frozen. What was Mark thinking when he prepared all this? Was he already planning his excuses in case I found out? What kind of heart does it take to do something like this? The last document was the final straw that broke me. An investment in a fashion brand, made in his mother's name. Under "Shareholder and Founder," it read: Sarah Miller. I don't remember how I drove home. When I came to, I was in the underground garage. My phone buzzed with notifications. Speeding tickets. Red light violations. I buried my face in my hands, leaning on the steering wheel. I couldn't calm down. My phone rang suddenly in the quiet space. It was jarring. I answered, exhausted. "Susan, where are you? Why am I getting speeding alerts? Are you okay?" Mark sounded urgent, worried. "I had to deliver a file. In a rush." I made up an excuse. He sounded angry now. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? Pull over. I'm coming to get you." I heard the rustle of clothes as he got dressed. "No need. I'm in the garage." Silence. Mark let out a breath. "Come upstairs then." When the elevator opened, I saw Mark in his loungewear, a jacket thrown over his shoulders. His eyes were full of concern. He nagged me about my driving skills, complaining that I shouldn't be speeding. Looking at the man in front of me. He cared about my safety. While pouring his heart and soul into another woman. 3 That night, after Mark fell asleep. I contacted a new lawyer. I asked him to audit my assets and sent him the files I had. "Handle it all together." I woke up to find Mark had made breakfast—a rare occurrence. "I'm meeting a client in Bayview today. It's on your way, can you drop me off?" I looked at him quietly for a moment, then nodded. It wasn't time to explode yet. I needed more evidence. On the way, my phone kept ringing. Before I could answer, Mark grabbed it and hung up. "You have a man on the side or something?" Hearing him project his guilt onto me, I sneered internally. In the end, he made a scene and didn't let me answer. When I got to the office, my assistant was waiting in the lobby. Seeing me rush in, she hesitated before asking cautiously. "Boss, have you been in contact with a studio called SJ recently?" Hearing the name, my breath hitched. My throat felt dry. A bad feeling washed over me. "No. Why?" She handed me a tablet. Dozens of design sketches. My heart stopped. I looked at the familiar elements, anger rising in my chest. I walked quickly to my office. "Tell me everything." It turned out this SJ Studio had released a batch of concept art and registered the copyrights. And the design elements were almost identical to my company's upcoming flagship collection. The problem was, to keep the suspense, we hadn't released our designs publicly. Production had already started. We had signed the celebrity endorsements. This meant if consumers thought we were copying SJ, the company would suffer massive losses. Even worse, we would offend our partners. Chills ran down my spine. The first person I thought of was Mark. I never imagined that to pave the way for Sarah, he would sacrifice the company I built with my own hands. Before I could come up with a plan, another assistant burst in. "Susan, the plagiarist is on TV!" I sat up straight and took the phone. Sarah Miller appeared on a popular finance show. She was dressed cleanly, simply, like the girl next door. Facing the host's tricky questions, she was confident and calm. Very impressive. When asked why she named the studio SJ, she lifted her sleeve, revealing the tattoo. "To thank someone very important to me. I wanted his name not just in my heart, but on my body, in my life." "He is everywhere." The host looked envious. "That must be your lover? Can you tell us your story?" She shook her head shyly. "I promised him I wouldn't mention him publicly without his permission." Comments floated across the screen. [Can't mention him? Why? Is he married?] [Holy crap, that might be it. If they're so in love, why the secrecy?] [Maybe they just like privacy. Don't be jealous.] The comments section turned into a war zone. I stared at the screen, lost in thought. The host asked another question. "So what inspired the 'Fleeting Orchid' series? Why that name?" Sarah froze for a second. The host continued. "Is it because you met him when the orchids were blooming? Does he like orchids?" Sarah clearly didn't have an answer. She didn't know why the host brought up orchids. But she thought fast. She winked at the camera with a mysterious smile. She said nothing. I stared at the screen and whispered the answer. "Beauty fades as the best times pass; the orchid season does not wait." That was the poem that inspired my collection. I never thought it would become a prophecy for my marriage. 4 After the interview, Sarah became famous. After all, she was riding on the six months of hard work from my entire design team. She ignited the fashion industry. SJ Studio went from unknown to flooded with collaboration offers in a month. Meanwhile, four of my senior designers resigned. My company was in a slump. In just one month, the media hailed Sarah as a genius designer. Mark, on the other hand, was having "issues." First, an investment failed, and he urgently needed to fill the hole. He asked to transfer three hundred thousand from our joint account. I looked at him impassively. And nodded. Soon after, my lawyer sent me the evidence. Watching the money trail, I continued to bait the hook. After that, his courage seemed to grow. Using a subsidiary we co-owned, he launched a "charity project." He approved a five hundred thousand dollar R&D loan for Sarah. The paperwork looked legit—reviews, signatures, everything. Outsiders wouldn't spot a flaw. I smiled at the documents in my hand. This money would allow Sarah to officially turn her studio into a company. Sure enough, SJ Corp was founded. They started hiring aggressively. Office supplies, computers—they bought the best. Meanwhile, I was in crisis. Employees resigned from my company today and received offers from SJ tomorrow. With double the salary. It seemed Sarah wanted to destroy me. Mark, who hadn't been home in a week, suddenly appeared. "Susan, I have to go out of town. Something came up at the branch office." I smirked internally. "How much do you need?" Mark waved his hands. "I heard things aren't going well for you. Are you... holding up okay?" His undisguised probing hardened my heart further. Mark, let's see who laughs last in this game. I put on a weary face. Acting like my usual self, I said: "It's okay. Don't worry about me. Take what you need. I'm not broke yet." That sentence dispelled his doubts completely. He kissed my cheek. "Wife, I knew you were the most gentle and understanding woman in the world." That night, I claimed I had work in the study, but really I scrubbed my face twenty times in the guest bathroom. The next day, Mark left with his luggage. Looking solemn, like he was off to solve a crisis. Instead, he parked at the airport and took a cab back to the city. Soon after, my friend texted me. [Holy shit. Saw your husband at a hotel. That super expensive love hotel!] [So gross!] [When are you going to make your move?] I replied: [Hold on.] Two days later, I got the alert. Mark injected one million dollars into SJ. Ha. A total of one point seven million dollars. He built Sarah a production line complete with logistics. Mark really was generous. Maybe success had gone to his head, or he thought his plan was flawless. He didn't even bother hiding the money trail this time. And this was exactly the moment I had been waiting for. I met my lawyer in a private tea house. My mother-in-law's bank statements and gift records. Copies of the doctored documents. The chat logs they thought were deleted forever. Everything was laid out on the table. The lawyer looked serious. "This proves not only malicious transfer of marital assets but also embezzlement." I nodded calmly, packing up the evidence. Waiting for them to climb to their highest peak. On the day of the grand opening. Sarah was surrounded by admirers. Compliments flew left and right. "Ms. Miller is so young and talented!" "SJ Studio is definitely the next big thing!" "Mr. York has an amazing eye for investment!" Mark stood nearby, looking proud, as if her glory was his own. They were the stars of the show. This was the glory Mark bought with my designs and our money. The emcee's voice boomed, hyping up the ribbon-cutting ceremony. "Ladies and gentlemen, the moment we've all been waiting for! Please welcome the founder of SJ Studio, Ms. Sarah Miller—" "And her investor, Mr. Mark York, to the stage!" Thunderous applause almost lifted the roof. That was when I pushed open the doors.
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