Chapter 1

Damian Lee possessed a trinity of pleasure he could never exhaust: money, liquor, and women.

All three were intoxicating, but Damian Lee was a master of control. He knew how to start the fun, as well as how to stop. 

And this club used to be his den.

Maybe it was because this was one of the few clubs that opened so early that he could come straight here after work. He loved to party that much, he wouldn’t want to wait any longer.

“Where’s Damian?" A blonde girl approached a group of men. A glass of alcohol in her hand, her eyes scanned the whole room. "Why hasn't he returned yet? Whyyy?!"

I rolled my eyes in disbelief. I’d already seen three girls looking for him tonight. I honestly didn’t understand why people acted like he was the only decent-looking guy they could find.

I could imagine this Damian guy would stroll into a nightclub to indulge in a drink; a single glance, a faint smirk, and women would flock to him like moths to a flame.

There was a strange rumour I’d heard: if Damian Lee set his sights on your girlfriend, just give up. She would leave you and your nine-year relationship for the sake of a single night with him; a night he would likely forget by morning. If you ever saw a man sobbing hysterically over his drink at a club, chances are he was one of Damian's casualties.

“That damned Damian son of a b****!” A hard slam came from the table to my right. Wine spilled, along with a few tears. “Today is supposed to be our third anniversary. But he… but he ruined it all. If only I’d never brought her here. If only… hic…”

I turned my face away, pretended not to hear, pretended not to see. 

The rumour must be true.

It wasn't even a rare occurrence if I could find it easily on my first visit to this club. I bet if those poor men formed a support group, they’d have enough members to start a political party.

Though many men considered him their enemy, as far as I know, no one ever retaliated. There were no brawls, no revenge plots either.

Not that they had the power to do anything about it, anyway. 

It was to be expected. No one dared to go against the heir of the RQL Group. His family was untouchable, beyond the reach of the law.

You touch him? You’re dead. Simple.

“So, what do you know about him? Anything? His weakness, perhaps?” I asked the bartender as I lowered my hat to cover my face, just in case.

“Damian again? Just forget him already,” he answered as if he was tired of getting questions about him. “Give it up, young lady. The guy’s married.”

I sighed. I knew it. Coming here was a bad idea. I found nothing that could help me.

My phone vibrated, an incoming message appeared on the screen, along with the sender’s name: Damian Lee.

‘Maria. Meeting’s over. I’m heading home.’

Oh, I’m his wife, by the way.

The poor wife of Damian Lee: the man, the myth, the womanizer. Yep, that’s me.

I clicked my tongue. It was barely 8 PM.

I couldn't believe he would come so soon. Well, not so soon if you think of him as a regular office worker. The working hours should end at 5 PM or 6 PM at most. But remember, he is Damian Lee. Why would someone who used to spend his night outside be coming home at this hour?

Besides, he was an executive. Doesn’t he have something important to do at the office? Please be busy.

Before he said he would be 'very late'. By the way he wrote 'very late' you would assume he wouldn't come home until almost midnight. I would be relieved if he went somewhere first, be it hotel, beach club, Vegas even.

Anywhere is fine. Just go wild like you are supposed to.

The DJ started to play some loud music for people to dance. It was getting difficult to listen to what people said, it hurt my ears too. So I should just come home, anyway. I didn't want him to find out I went to the club to investigate him.

I placed some bills on the bar counter, enough to tip the whole crew. I grabbed my bag and hurried out of there. I told my chauffeur to start the car and get home as fast as he could.

In the car, I replied to his text:

‘Okay. I’ll be waiting.’

Actually, not really.

When I got home, thankfully, he wasn't there yet. I had some time to change my clothes and fix my hair. I looked at myself in the mirror. 

Objectively speaking, I wasn’t bad-looking. As the wife of Damian Lee and the daughter-in-law of the RQL Group’s chairman, I must have already met the minimum standards in terms of appearance. But sometimes I wonder, am I beautiful enough to make Damian abandon his habits and his so-called “harem” just for me?

Nonsense, right?

Damian didn't even love me, just as I didn't love him.

We both knew, we didn't marry each other out of love.

Like any other conglomerate marriage, fidelity isn't part of the deal. If there is any loyalty left in us, it belongs solely to our family business. I had intentionally inserted a clause regarding the transfer of shares in the event of adultery. If Damian Lee cheated, half of his RQL Group shares would be transferred to me.

And of course, the same applied to me if I cheated too, but that wouldn’t even happen.

I thought it would be easy to wait for him to slip up. I mean, he’s Damian Lee. The people at the club would think he would get another girl on day one.

Yet, more than six months into our marriage, Damian hasn't touched a single woman out there, as far as I knew.

A few minutes later, a maid knocked on the door of our room.

"Excuse me, Mr. Lee is arriving, Ma'am."

I hurried to go down the stairs. Not that I was excited to see him. It was just my "obligation" to act like a wife missing her husband. That I had to welcome him home after hours of him working hard.

Damian Lee arrived alongside his trusted personal assistant who followed him like glue, Mr. Ed.

“Maria." He looked at me for a brief moment. "Wait for me at the dinner table,” he asked, already loosening his tie, as if he’d rushed home.

I smiled back at him. This newlyweds act sometimes made me cringe inside, but I have to perform my part. Mr. Ed, Damian’s most loyal personal assistant, is here.

Mr. Ed handed Damian's briefcase to a maid.

“Good evening, Ma’am,” he greeted me. “Mr. Lee is home safely. I shall take my leave now, Ma’am.”

"Wait, Mr. Ed.” I stopped him. “Did my husband really come straight home after his meeting?" I tried to speak as neutrally as possible, without suspicion, without accusation.

He gave a small, understanding smile. "Yes, Ma'am. Mr. Lee rushed back immediately; he even turned down a dinner invitation with a client."

I let out an involuntary sigh of disappointment.

"Please rest assured, Ma'am. Mr. Lee has been completely faithful."

That’s exactly the problem. I needed him to be unfaithful for my sake.

"It's not that," I murmured with a thin smile. 

Then, a sudden idea sparked in my mind. 

"Mr. Ed, if I recall correctly, one of the secretaries in the executive assistant team is currently pregnant." I remembered the last time I went to his office and someone had a bump on her belly.

"That is correct, Ma'am. How thoughtful of you to remember. I believe she shall be taking her maternity leave starting next month."

"I will handle finding her replacement for maternity leave. We can grant her an earlier, extended leave. I think it’ll be excellent for the company’s image if we provide more generous benefits." As his wife, I could do that much, right?

"Err, I am afraid I should confirm that with Mr. Lee first."

"I’ll speak with my husband myself. Just let the HR know that I will personally handle the recruitment,” I added to put him at ease. “You should head home and rest."

"Very well. Please excuse me."

I nodded, dismissing him. Now, I just had to bring it up to Damian to set my plan in motion.

***

Dinner with Damian was usually a silent affair. We didn't indulge in small talk or ask about each other's day unless it concerned business, company image, and the likes. We didn’t love each other, what’s there to talk about? Your work? Your lunch? Never personal.

There was one time when he asked for my size, since he would have to inform his family's personal styling team. They would need it to prepare my shoes for attending events.

But tonight, I broke the silence. 

There was one thing I needed to know, and I didn’t want to beat around the bush.

"What kind of women do you like?"

Damian froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. "What kind of question is that? What do you mean?"

"Your type. What do you look for? Physical traits, personality, anything."

"Maria, you’re being strange. Is this some kind of test? What do you want me to say? 'A woman like you'? Long black hair? 163 cm tall? Fair skin? A daughter of a conglomerate?"

He was trying to use me as a joke. How dare he.

"Come on. I'm serious, Damian."

“I am serious too, Maria. Why are you asking me that? I am already married and fortunately for you, I am very loyal to my wife.”

Loyal my ass. I will catch you cheating on me no matter what.

“So what? Married people still have preferences.”

Besides, we both know we didn't marry because we were each other's type.

“Is that so?” He paused eating. He leaned back, looking straight at me. “Then, what are your preferences?”

This caught me off guard. “This isn’t about me.”

I tried to brush it off.

“Then I don’t want to answer too.”

“Fine. I like someone who is kind, gentle, and knows how to treat a woman.” I just blurted out whatever that didn’t sound like him. And of course, not really what I had in mind about my ‘dream guy’, as I worried that he might use the same strategy to trap me. “So what about you? What kind of woman do you like?”

"Just the usual. Someone who’s pretty and sexy." 

He answered as if he didn’t even need to think. My expectation for him was low but his answer was way below. Even average-looking people had more refined tastes, something specific, something with a higher standard. 

But him?

With criteria that generic, it was no wonder every girl in the club is his target market. If we were a normal married couple, it would be kind of insulting to know your "husband" is fine with anyone. But since we were not, I tried to take his answer with an open mind.

"Just as I thought. You’re not picky as long as they’re looking good."

"Yep, yep," he replied nonchalantly, returning to his food.

To think that a man like that is my husband. If it werent for his wealth…

The room became silent again as we had nothing to talk about. I waited until he had almost finished his food to ask the most important part at the right time.

"By the way, you don't mind if I find a replacement secretary for you, do you? Your current one needs her leave."

"Arrange it however you like. I don't care."

There you have it.

A faint smile touched my lips.