Chapter 1

Yelena's POV

I dropped my gaze to the knife on the table, which I slowly picked up and brought to my chest.

"You know that Nick is a clean freak, so why would he suddenly volunteer to throw the trash every day? Do you really think that Natalie follows him because she's helping you keep an eye on him?

"Stop being a fool, Yelena! Go and take a look around the corner of the villa. The ten minutes they're out daily to throw the trash is the only time they can get away from you and spend time with each other!"

At that moment, the front door opened as Nick Goldberg, my husband, returned from taking the trash out.

Upon seeing the knife held in front of my chest, he instantly went deathly pale.

"Yelena, what are you doing?"

He didn't even bother changing into the indoor slippers as he rushed over to me.

On the other end of the line, my future self spoke up once more.

"Look at his cuffs. His OCD is very bad, yet look at him now."

Nick had a severe case of OCD and was a clean freak, so his sleeves were always rolled up three times to reveal his wrists.

Now, however, his usually neat sleeves were unusually ruffled, and there was even a faint red smudge on one of the edges—a lipstick stain.

My eyes drifted past him to Natalie Swift, my older sister, who was currently standing behind him with slightly mussed makeup.

If my grip on the knife weakened, the tip would plunge right into my thigh.

Nick froze in place and raised his hands placatingly, uttering softly, "Yelena, put the knife down so you don't hurt yourself."

My gaze remained locked on his disheveled sleeves as I demanded in a quavering voice, "Who's the woman?"

Nick paused briefly in surprise before opening his phone's GPS location history with a practiced motion and showing it to me. "I just went out to throw the trash. I wasn't even gone for more than ten minutes."

An intense look of helplessness entered his eyes as he went on, "Yelena, it's been three years since that incident. Just how long do you plan on clinging to it? I'm already exhausted enough with taking care of you every day, so please, stop being so suspicious all the time."

With that, he stepped forward to take the knife from me.

Brandishing the knife, I swiftly backed away from him. "Don't touch me!"

In my agitated state, I accidentally sliced my own palm, causing fresh blood to gush forth and drip to the floor.

"Lena!" Natalie exclaimed while dashing toward me.

However, in her haste, she twisted her ankle and crashed into the cabinet next to her.

"Nat!"

Nick lunged toward her, the reaction almost instinctive, but just as his hand was about to touch her, he seemed to realize what he was doing and froze. His outstretched hand was left hanging in mid-air.

Glancing at my bloodstained hand, Natalie sent a slap across Nick's face. "Nick Goldberg, why did you act so forcefully with her again? Don't you remember that she's sick?"

She hadn't held back with that slap, the sheer force of it causing Nick's head to snap to the side.

His fingers curled into tight fists, as though he was working hard to keep his emotions from going out of control.

However, when he turned back to look at me, the annoyance, frustration, and hostility in his eyes had vanished. He was back to being my gentle, docile husband.

"I stepped out of line earlier, Lena. Here, let me tend to your palm. You're bleeding."

Even though he was crouched in front of me, tending to my wound, his gaze remained locked on Natalie's swollen and red ankle the entire time.

After hastily finishing up with me, he stuffed the first-aid kit into Natalie's arms and said in a terribly hoarse voice, "Quickly tend to your injury."

Taking in the way he held back his concern, I couldn't take it anymore and excused myself by saying I wanted to rest.

My mind drifted to three years ago, when I had first caught Nick cheating on me.

Like a madwoman, I had searched the hotel from top to bottom, yet I hadn't been able to find any hint of the other woman.

In my despair, I had made my way to the rooftop, at which point Natalie had stabbed Nick before dragging him over to me to apologize for his sin.

That day, the usually proud man had actually fallen to his knees in front of me, all while crying like a child who had lost his entire world.

"Yelena, please, I'm begging you, you can't die!"

The desperation and heartbreak in his demeanor as he had begged me not to throw myself off the building had me believing that he actually did love me.

Now, however, a call from the future had thoroughly shredded my fantasy.