4

I walk Paul to the front door, acting as casually as possible. Even though I am trying to hide my nervousness. When I close the door, I notice an envelope thrown into the paper trash bin near Paul’s office.

Curious, I pick up the envelope and am surprised because the invitation is addressed to me. I don’t even know about it. I immediately open it and discover that it is an invitation to a gala dinner hosted by Benedict Ashworth.

Benedict Ashworth?

Ah... isn’t he Paul’s business rival, and someone who has always been a nightmare for my husband?

Rumors have circulated for years that the Ashworth and Goldman families are fierce competitors in the pharmaceutical industry. Even though they never openly show that rivalry.

What is certain is that I know how much Paul dislikes that family.

And Paul’s relationship with the Ashworth family becomes even more strained when Benedict starts emerging in the business world. I never ask much about Benedict because I don’t want to ruin my husband’s mood.

But this invitation... it feels strange.

An invitation to a university alumni gala. Are Benedict and I from the same alma mater?

Now is not the time for me to think about that. There is something else I need to prove, something I have never investigated at all before.

I walk into Paul’s office. I know the password to his computer—he always uses our wedding date, an irony I once considered romantic.

050923.

I am so stupid that I never check it even once.

The screen opens. My hands tremble as I open folders that I only discover after everything is already too late. There, I find a folder titled Project Monica’s Cure.

“Ah, Monica says that while I am taking my last breath,” I gasp.

I open the folder with curiosity and a rush of adrenaline. The moment everything appears before my eyes, my chest tightens instantly.

Inside are not only the details of my research, but also draft contracts transferring the patent rights under Paul’s name. Paul has already prepared everything. He even prepares the drug launch scenario without my name in it at all.

On paper, I am listed only as a supporting research staff member.

But there is one thing that hurts even more. A hidden folder containing photographs. Photos of Paul and Monica.

On a beach. At an expensive restaurant. Even inside the apartment, Paul claims, is a “company investment asset.”

Those photos are dated from before we got married.

“So all this time... I really am nothing more than a project to them,” I whisper. My voice cracks. “BASTARDS!”

Tears almost fall, but I immediately wipe them away roughly.

No! I don’t have time to cry! I have to become the best actress in the world.

I take the invitation to my bedroom, and the moment I open the door, the phone on my nightstand vibrates softly. I look at the screen, and the name Monica appears there.

My heart seems to stop beating. That female devil is calling.

I take the deepest breath possible. I steady my voice so it sounds normal—at least like “Kate who is tired.”

“Hello, Monica?” I greet her.

“Kate! Oh my God, are you okay?” Monica’s voice sounds incredibly worried, the kind of fake concern that always makes me think she is the best friend in the world. “Paul just called me. He said you were acting strange this morning. You were talking about murder and divorce? Kate, you’re making Paul so worried!”

I clench my fists until my nails dig into my palms. “I just had a nightmare, Monica. A really bad one. So bad that I got carried away when I woke up.”

“Oh, thank goodness! I thought you were getting depressed because of all that research pressure.”

“No, I’m fine. It’s just temporary stress.”

“I understand, babe. But don’t do that again, okay?” Monica lets out a relieved breath. “Paul loves you so much, Kate. He even asked me to keep you company if you need someone to talk to. He even told me to prepare gift catalogs for you.”

I close my eyes: 'Paul loves you'. That sentence feels like spit in my face.

“Thank you, Monica. If anything comes up, I’ll definitely contact you, okay?” I conclude.

“Alright, don’t push yourself too hard, okay? Let me know if you need anything. Love you, babe!”

I end the call without returning her declaration of love. The urge to throw up comes back again.

Monica and Paul are truly working together to drive me insane. They want me to feel “mentally unstable.” If something happens to me later, people will assume it is an accident or a suicide caused by depression.

Such a neat little plan.

My eyes shift to the invitation in my hand. “Should I go?”

After all, I am a guest personally invited by Benedict Ashworth. We are from the same alma mater, aren’t we?

...

That night, I wear a blood-red backless dress that hugs my body perfectly. My hair is pinned up neatly. I even hire a professional makeup artist to do my makeup.

I look at myself in the mirror... I don’t want to hide anymore.

All this time, not many people even know that I am Paul’s wife. Instead, people see Monica beside him far more often. If Paul wants me to be an obedient wife, then now I am going to become the brightest rebel of all.

Exactly at eight o’clock that night, I arrived at the gala.

The moment I enter the ballroom, every eye turns toward me. I am a stranger no one has ever seen anywhere before. I ignore all those stares and sweep my gaze around the room. Until I see a man surrounded by several people.

He looks incredibly charismatic.

A tall, solid frame. Black hair slicked back. And a faint five o’clock shadow.

Those sharp-looking eyes suddenly shift away from his guests. Now they are fixed on me, staring as if I am the only thing in the room.

A chill runs down my spine.

That is... Benedict Ashworth.

I swallow hard, gathering all my courage to approach him. Just as I am about to step toward Ben, the sight in the corner of the room makes my heart drop.

There, near the champagne tower, Paul is standing proudly. And of course, beside my husband is Monica. She is wearing a very revealing black dress, hanging affectionately onto Paul’s arm while letting out a soft laugh.

The moment Paul’s eyes land on me, the cheerful expression on his face turns into horror. Paul immediately lets go of Monica’s arm as if she were a burning ember.

“K-Kate? What are you doing here?!”