After seven years of marriage, my wife had rarely asked me to accompany her back to her parents' home. She always said she didn't want me stepping into that cramped, crowded little house and feeling wronged.

This year, during the New Year, I happened to be in the city where my in-laws lived for a business trip. By chance, I came across a local video online. It was posted by a resident of an upscale neighborhood.

"Mom, Dad, my beloved wife and son—thank you for giving an orphan like me a complete and happy life."

The elderly couple in the video were dressed in the same high-end outfits I had bought for my in-laws.

I thought of how frugal they had always been, how they lived simply and spared every penny. A decision formed in my mind: tomorrow, I would buy them a place in that very neighborhood, in their name, so they could enjoy a comfortable retirement. It would be my small act of filial piety.

But the next day, the moment I stepped into the residential complex, I saw my in-laws coming downstairs—with my wife and a child.

Could it be that my wife had secretly bought them an apartment?

I pressed my lips together, about to step forward, when a man rushed over and caught my father-in-law just as he nearly stumbled. "Dad, careful now."

My footsteps froze.

My wife was an only child. I had never heard of any foster relatives.

He called my father-in-law "Dad."

Then… who was I?

Almost instinctively, I pulled out my phone and checked my browsing history for the video from last night.

In it, the side profiles of the two elderly people were identical to the faces of my in-laws standing before me now. If the clip hadn't flashed by so quickly, I would have recognized them right away.

And in other videos—those fleeting, fragmented moments—my wife, Cynthia Muller, appeared again and again, holding a child in her arms.

The little boy called her "Mom" with intimate affection. Under a sky lit by fireworks, the man held her close and kissed her.

Each short clip drove a blade straight into my chest.

That same man had reposted a thread asking, "What's your greatest achievement so far?"

In the comments, he'd written:

"My greatest achievement is stealing a rich man's wife, putting a cuckold's horns on him, getting her to bear my son—and even making her abort his child.

"That idiot still thinks he has a perfect, happy family. Every day, he works his ass off, full of motivation, earning money for the three of us.

"Every time I see his listed company's stock go up, I'm over the moon. All that money will belong to me and my son one day!"

I stood frozen, my entire body trembling.

A surge of rage—raw, violent, born of betrayal—rose from the pit of my chest.

I rushed forward and grabbed Cynthia by the arm.

"Didn't you tell me you were on a business trip? What are you doing here?"

She turned at the sound of my voice. The anger on her face vanished, replaced instantly by panic. Forcing a smile, she stammered,

"Johnny… what are you doing here? I… I just thought since it's almost New Year, I'd stop by to see my parents after finishing my work…"

Before she could finish, I cut her off.

"Then why are you here in this neighborhood? And why did that man just call him 'Dad'?"

I narrowed my eyes, studying the man in front of me. Something about him felt familiar. A fragment of memory surfaced—

He had been at our wedding.

Back then, he'd stared at my wife with a lingering, almost obsessive gaze that had made me deeply uncomfortable. But since he never appeared again afterward, I had nearly forgotten about him.

So they had a past.

And suddenly, I remembered the pain and sorrow on Cynthia's face on our wedding night. I had thought she was just unwell from drinking too much. Turns out, she simply couldn't forget her old lover.

"Speak!" The humiliation of being played for a fool crashed over me, and I roared at her.

She wrenched her arm free. "Why are you yelling at me? I came with my parents to visit Bobby. He bought a place in this neighborhood.

"Our families have known each other for generations. He even acknowledged my parents as his godparents when he was little. Is that a problem?

"Are you insane? Traveling all this way just to scream at me like a lunatic?"

If I hadn't just seen those videos and learned the truth, I might have been deceived by her righteous, indignant act.

A wave of bitter absurdity filled my chest. I stared at her coldly and said nothing.

My mother-in-law rushed forward and slapped me across the face.

"Johnny, I thought you were considerate and gentle with Cynthia. Even though you're always busy with work and rarely spend time with her, I never said a word.

"And now, over something baseless, you're questioning my daughter's loyalty? Are you even a man?"

"Exactly! Cynthia has been running all over the country on business—even during the New Year—for you and your company, while you sit comfortably in your office enjoying the benefits. And now, you're suspecting your own wife of fooling around? Do you have any conscience at all?"

My father-in-law, his face full of disappointment, pointed at me as he rebuked me, as if I had committed some unforgivable crime.

I thought of the way they had looked at Bobby just moments ago—so satisfied, so pleased. And then I thought of how, no matter how much money I had given them over the years, they had always remained distant and polite.

Only then did I finally understand: no matter what I did, I would never warm this family's hearts.

The truth settled cold and clear in my chest. Just as I was about to speak, the child in Cynthia's arms suddenly lashed out, kicking at me viciously.

"Bad guy, go away! Don't bully my mommy and daddy!"

The words "mommy and daddy" struck me like a knife.

Once, Cynthia and I had a child too.

Back then, I had been filled with joy at the thought of becoming a father. I bought her a house and a car to celebrate. I hired the best caregivers and a postpartum nanny to take care of her.

But before three months had passed, she tearfully told me she had slipped and lost the baby.

I still remembered how she had looked—face streaked with tears, grief-stricken. My heart had shattered, yet I held her close and comforted her.

"It's okay, honey. It's not your fault. We'll have another child."

To reassure her, I even transferred several shares into her name, afraid she might think I loved the child more than I loved her.

Never had I imagined that she had already borne another man's child—and that, over a single jealous remark from Bobby, she had decisively aborted ours.

The abortion certificate shown in that video was nothing less than a brutal mockery of all the love and devotion I had given her over the years.

It was laughable—utterly, bitterly laughable.

"If it's just a godchild, would he call you 'mommy and daddy'? What else do you have to say?"

I looked at Cynthia indifferently.

There was nothing left in my heart but ice.

She faltered for a moment, guilt flickering across her face, but still retorted stubbornly, "What's there to explain? Kids don't know any better. Calling familiar adults 'mommy and daddy'—what's so strange about that?

"Johnny, are you so bored you came all this way just to pick a fight? If you insist on accusing me of being unfaithful, then fine—we can go to the courthouse right now and file for divorce!"

As she spoke, she looked at me with utter heartbreak, tears streaming down her face.

In the past, I would have already been filled with guilt, pulling her into my arms to comfort her.

But now, all I felt was ridicule.

How had I never realized she was such a talented actress?

Bobby walked over, placing a hand on my shoulder in disapproval.

"Johnny, you should cherish a wife as beautiful and capable as her. How can you doubt her innocence without reason?

"I grew up with Cynthia. I know her character better than anyone. She would never do anything to betray you."

He said all the right things—but in the depths of his eyes, I caught a flicker of mockery and disdain.

The anger in my chest surged even higher.

"Get lost. Don't put on that fake act in front of me." I shrugged his hand off.

"Bobby!"

Cynthia rushed forward and kicked me.

"What right do you have to hit someone? When you have no argument, you just start making a scene—how crude!"

My mother-in-law hurried to help Bobby up from the ground, glaring at me as she cursed,

"Do you even want to stay married to Cynthia or not? If you don't, then get lost! Our family doesn't need a petty, abusive man like you!"

Bobby lowered his head, pressing his lips together.

"Mom, please stop. This is all my fault. I only wanted to mediate between them, but I ended up upsetting Johnny instead.

"I'll take the child and leave now. You all should go back and talk things through as a family. There's nothing that can't be resolved."

As he spoke, he reached for the child to leave. But the boy burst into tears, clinging to Cynthia. "I want Mommy! Bad man, go away! Waaaah—"

He shook off Bobby's hand and rushed at me, hitting and kicking.

A familiar pain flared in my stomach—the lingering ache from drinking too much the night before. Instinctively, I pushed him away.

Cynthia let out a sharp scream and shoved me hard into a flowerbed.

Jagged stones slammed into my lower back, sending a piercing pain through my body.

Her eyes filled with distress as she looked at the child—then she turned to me and roared with fury.

"He only called me 'Mommy' once, and you can't even tolerate a child that young? You're worse than an animal," Cynthia screamed.

I got to my feet, about to say something, but my father-in-law—his face twisted with anger—shoved me to the ground again.

"Johnny, I always thought you were a man who understood manners and respect. But your behavior today has truly disappointed me!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the whole family spat at me with vicious contempt before turning around, carrying the child as they left together.

Curled on the ground, I watched their backs recede into the distance. I pressed a hand over my stomach, which burned fiercely.

Last night, I had forced myself to endure glass after glass of liquor just so I could wrap up the business party early and hurry back to accompany Cynthia. Now, the pain in my stomach felt like it was on fire.

My eyes stung despite myself.

'Cynthia, since this is the path you've chosen… then I'll grant you your wish.'

Coldly, I dialed a number.

"Hello, Corey? Recover all the shares under Cynthia's name. Then draft a divorce agreement."

After giving instructions to my special assistant, I could no longer endure the pain and went to the hospital for treatment.

While waiting in line, I unexpectedly saw Cynthia and Bobby arrive with the child to register at the hospital.

Bobby's arm was wrapped tightly around Cynthia's waist. She smiled at him and leaned into his shoulder, the two of them so close it was as if no one else in the world existed.

Even though I had already decided on divorce, the sight still stabbed painfully into my chest.

In the past, whenever I tried to be a little more affectionate with Cynthia, she would refuse, saying she had never been used to standing too close to people since childhood. I had suppressed my disappointment and respected her wishes.

Even when we were intimate, aside from her physical reactions, she rarely gave me a smile.

So it wasn't that she couldn't smile. She simply didn't want to smile at me.

Bobby turned slightly and noticed me. A provocative smile curled at his lips as he deliberately lowered his head and kissed Cynthia.

She blushed shyly and kissed him back, deeply, almost forgetting they were in a hospital.

It wasn't until the child's young voice interrupted them that they finally pulled apart.

Cynthia turned her head awkwardly—and saw me standing there, my expression cold.

For a moment, her heartbeat seemed to skip. Then she quickly composed herself, her face turning indifferent.

"Why are you following me here again? Do you think pretending to be sick will make me feel sorry for you?

"Johnny, don't use these cheap tricks women play to gain sympathy. It only makes me look down on you."

The cramping in my stomach intensified.

I looked at her coldly.

"You're overthinking it."

"Number 28, Johnny King. Room 7." My number was called just then.

I stood up and walked over for my appointment, not sparing them another glance.

Cynthia hadn't expected that I was really here to see a doctor—and that I would treat her with such indifference. Watching the direction I left in, she pressed her lips tightly together.

"Cynthia, Johnny must be putting on an act," Bobby said.

"You can't soften your heart so easily. Otherwise, you won't be able to keep him under control in the future.

"When that happens, his immense fortune might end up going to some other woman."

"He wouldn't!" Cynthia refuted instinctively. "Johnny said he would only love me for the rest of his life."

A glint flashed in Bobby's eyes.

"All the more reason to keep a firm hold on him."

Cynthia nodded. "You're right. I can't seem too eager, or he'll think I can't live without him."

Bobby shot the child a look. The boy immediately clung to Cynthia and began acting spoiled, and just like that, she completely forgot about me.

After I returned to the hotel, I received messages from Cynthia and my in-laws.

First came Cynthia's accusation.

[Johnny, this afternoon we checked the child, and his back is all bruised. Transfer 100 thousand dollars for medical expenses right now. After that, come apologize to Bobby and his son in person, or I'll make you regret it!]

Then several messages arrived from my in-laws.

[Your baseless suspicion of Cynthia today was absolutely outrageous. She's so upset she couldn't even eat dinner. You must kneel and sincerely apologize, otherwise, don't expect us to forgive you easily.

[You'd better transfer some shares as well to show your sincerity. And Bobby and his son were innocent bystanders caught up in this. Coincidentally, Audi just released a new car recently—go pick one up tomorrow and give it to him as an apology.]

I stared at their utterly self-righteous demands, one after another, recalling all the benefits I had given to Cynthia's family over the years.