The sudden movement almost made Ezra stumble to the floor.

He wasn't angry, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Shermaine, are you really mad at me?"

Shermaine fought to suppress the nauseous feeling rising in her stomach, the urge to vomit almost overwhelming.

She shook her head, pretending to have a headache. "I'm fine. The doctor said I have the flu, and it's contagious. Until I'm better, I should stay in the hospital so I don't give it to you."

Ezra's frown deepened immediately at her words.

"Which doctor said that? No way, Shermaine. You have to come home with me."

He crouched down, taking her hand with reverence and affection, like she was the most precious thing in the world. "If you're not within my sight, I'll worry about you."

So tender, so loving.

He was trying once again to weave a web of sweetness, to deceive her without her noticing.

Shermaine pushed his hand away, forcing a smile that felt weak. "Ezra, don't do this. I'll come home when I'm better."

Ezra saw the determination in her eyes and finally sighed. "Alright, fine."

But the joy in his gaze was nearly impossible to hide.

After all, within the next few days, his secret affair would be a lot easier to manage.

Shermaine felt a wave of sadness.

Such poor acting. How had she not seen through it before?

Her hand, hidden behind her back, still clutched the miscarriage diagnosis, crumpled tightly in her fist.

In the following days, Ezra continued to spend the majority of his time with Shermaine.

Rain or shine, he came to the hospital every day, always attentive, always thoughtful.

The nurses would often comment on how perfect he seemed.

"He's such a handsome guy, looking like a movie star, and he's so good to his wife!"

"Right? He's so protective of her. The other day when I spoke to him, he was cold as ice, but he always mentioned his wife."

"Ugh, I wish I could meet a man like that!"

Shermaine overheard this while she was up, trying to walk around, and a bitter smirk appeared on her lips.

Was he really being caring?

Then why hadn't he even bothered to ask the doctor how she was doing?

Why did he believe that a simple cold could make her suffer so much, causing her stomach to ache every day and her face to remain pale?

His daily attention was just so he could clear his evenings to be with another woman.

Shermaine almost felt exhausted for Ezra.

She quietly stepped to the stairwell and sent the photos from that night—of Ezra and Melanie's affair—to the private detective.

She also messaged her lawyer friend.

[Less than a week left. Please make sure the agreement is ready.]

As she turned around, Shermaine overheard a familiar voice from the hallway.

"Stop it. I have to be with her during the day, but I'll be with you at night, like always. Okay, okay. Just two more hours. Once I give her this afternoon's medication, I'll come to you right away. Don't forget to wear the clothes I bought for you. I want to see them when I get back."

Ezra stood by the window, the cold light streaming in, giving him an almost ethereal, statuesque appearance.

No one would have ever guessed that this seemingly perfect man would speak such intimate words to another woman.

The conversation continued, and Ezra's tone grew more tense and agitated.

"Melanie, don't even think about it. I told you, that's my home with Shermaine. You have no right to interfere."

In the quiet hallway, even without the speaker on, their words could be heard clearly.

Melanie seemed to have started crying, her voice soft and pleading, trying to coax Ezra.

He remained silent, his jaw clenched and his teeth grinding.

Ezra didn't notice Shermaine standing behind him, pale and still.

Just then, a nurse passed by and called out.

"Ms. Stout, you're still recovering. Don't stand in the draft, or you'll catch a cold again."

The words hit Ezra like a thunderclap, jolting him awake.

His face drained of color. He quickly ended the call, turning around to find himself locking eyes with Shermaine, whose gaze was as cold as ice.

She had lost more weight in the past few days due to illness, her pale face expressionless, like the winter sun—bright but without warmth.

"Shermaine." Ezra's heart raced. He stepped forward, fumbling for words. He opened his mouth but had no idea what to say.

Shermaine smiled lightly, as though nothing had happened. "What's wrong, Ezra? I heard your voice and came to check on you. You look off. Did you argue with someone?"

Ezra visibly relaxed, quickly slipping into his usual act. He furrowed his brow, feigning irritation. "A few companies I'm working with have been acting up. I got angry and gave them a piece of my mind. Anyway, we shouldn't be standing here. Let's head back. Look how cold your hands are," Ezra remarked, swiftly taking her hand and tucking it into the warmth of his coat.

Through the thin fabric of his shirt, he tried to warm her hands with his body heat.

Shermaine lifted her gaze to Ezra's flawless profile and, for a brief moment, lost herself in thought. "Ezra, I want to go home."

Ezra's smile faltered for a moment before he quickly recovered.

"Maybe later." He scrambled for an excuse. "Didn't the doctor say you're still recovering? It'd be best to stay at the hospital for a few more days. Besides, our anniversary is coming up. Let me take some time to make the house look nice."

Ezra lowered his voice, his tone deep and sultry. "Shermaine, I want to surprise you."

The air between them felt heavy with tension, but Shermaine's heart remained as cold as ever.

She quietly withdrew her hand, giving a small nod. "Alright."

Ezra, trying to sound considerate and a little eager to please, added, "How about we go watch the sunset on Mount Ashmore for our anniversary? You've been wanting to go for months, and I finally have some free time."

Shermaine's expression grew even more distant. She forced a strained smile. "Forget it. I'm tied up with a group project. I can't get away."

Ezra hesitated, his dark eyes briefly clouded with a rare trace of hurt.

"Shermaine, don't you remember? Your project is almost finished. The final tasks can be handled by my department."

He paused, then asked, almost timidly, "Shermaine, did I do something to upset you?"

Shermaine didn't answer. She just looked at him coolly, a chill spreading inside her.

If he hadn't mentioned it, she might have forgotten.

As a mentor, Shermaine had been overseeing a project with several students. The school hadn't supported it at first, but Ezra had kept pouring money into it.

In fact, to ease some of Shermaine's stress, he'd even set up a project department to collaborate directly with her team, allowing him to fund it without question.

At the time, Shermaine had been touched by his gesture.

It wasn't until she started investigating Ezra and Melanie's relationship that she had a rude awakening.

The night that marked the beginning of their affair—the night of passion—was also the night Ezra had announced the creation of the project department.

So, Ezra didn't establish that department just to help her. It was more about making it easier for him to have an affair with Melanie.

All those sweet memories from the past, the ones that had once filled her heart with warmth, turned into slaps to her face, one after the other, as realization hit.

Now, seeing Ezra's eager, affectionate expression, Shermaine only found it laughable.

He was still pretending.

A quiet, bitter laugh escaped her throat before she nodded. "Alright, let's go together."

After all, she had her own "gift" to give Ezra on that day.

After their conversation, Shermaine quickly made an excuse to rest and left the room with swift steps.

Ezra watched her retreating figure, his mind replaying the strange look she had given him moments ago.

A wave of unease washed over him, but he quickly pushed the feeling aside.

Ezra was certain that Shermaine loved him deeply, that even that cold, aloof woman would get jealous.

A few years ago, if he had even exchanged a few words with one of his assistants, Shermaine would sulk for days, ignoring him completely.

If she had discovered what was going on between him and Melanie, she wouldn't be so cold. He was confident that, with her love for him, she would have reacted very differently.

His phone buzzed again. It was another message from Melanie, begging him to take her to his house.

Ezra's handsome face darkened, and just as he was about to lash out in anger, a new message from Melanie appeared on the screen.

The message contained a provocative picture—on a white bedspread, she wore a sexy outfit with black stockings, posing suggestively.

Melanie had a sweet, innocent face but a body that was intoxicating, like a poppy—addictive and dangerous.

Ezra didn't send the scolding message he had been preparing.

Instead, he swallowed hard before speaking in a low, husky voice as he recorded a reply, "Melanie, I'll agree, but just this once. After this, you need to understand your place. You shouldn't interrupt my life with Shermaine."

When Shermaine was discharged from the hospital, she realized with a shock that she only had a few days before she had to report to the research institute.

Back at home, Ezra had done exactly what he had promised—he had decorated the house ahead of time.

It was filled with all of her favorite things—plants, pink balloons, and cartoon characters.

Instead of the cold and aloof version of him that everyone knew, Ezra was acting like a child, constantly asking her, "Shermaine, do you like it? Is there anything you don't like? Just tell me and I'll fix it."

For the first time in a while, Shermaine smiled. Ezra, thrilled by her reaction, immediately moved in to kiss her.

Just as their lips were about to meet, Shermaine gently pushed him away.

"I need to freshen up first."

She quickly made her way to the bathroom, the smile fading from her face. Her eyes became empty, tired.

When she looked up, her gaze fell on something out of place on the countertop—a small bottle of cosmetics that wasn't hers.

The sample had clearly been used quite a bit, meaning its owner had been staying here for a few days.

That wasn't all. As Shermaine stood there, her senses sharpened. A sickly sweet perfume lingered in the air, and she realized with a jolt that it wasn't her scent—she didn't wear perfume.

Shermaine stood there for what felt like forever, tears falling without warning.

She had never imagined that her life would be in such shambles.

Shermaine wasn't naive—she knew this was all Melanie's doing. It was a deliberate provocation, a declaration of possession.

Shermaine quickly regained her composure and opened the bathroom door. Then she grabbed two bottles of red wine and went to find Ezra.

Pretending like nothing was wrong, she smiled sweetly at him.

"Ezra, how about we have a drink tonight?"

Ezra didn't answer immediately, likely still deciding whether to meet with Melanie later.

But Shermaine's unexpected gentleness softened his heart, and he agreed.

A few glasses of wine later, Ezra, normally able to hold his liquor, had flushed cheeks. He clung to Shermaine, repeating over and over how much he loved her.

Shermaine, calm and collected, pulled out the divorce papers from her bag. In a gentle tone, she coaxed him.

"Ezra, I love you too. Come on. Be a good boy and sign the papers."

Ezra, like a puppet with no will of its own, complied.

Once he had signed the divorce agreement, Shermaine stood up slowly, showing no mercy. With a gentle push, she sent the dazed Ezra tumbling to the floor.

Shermaine smiled as tears blurred her vision.

She retrieved the prepared gift box and began placing one item after another inside.

One, two, three, four, five...

Each piece was neatly arranged before the box was packaged nicely.

She gazed down at the unconscious Ezra on the floor, her eyes devoid of warmth.

With a light voice, she spoke, "Ezra, don't blame me. I'm just returning the favor. You could drug me—why couldn't I do the same?"