After Faking Her Death, Her Spy Husband Went Mad

After the special ops team wrapped up their mission, teasing echoed through the team’s voice channel, aimed squarely at Conrad Collymore.

“Brother Conrad, take it easy with Artemis, alright? Don’t go breaking the bed again.”

Conrad’s lazy chuckle filtered through. “I’ve been holding back for too long. She’s just a way to blow off some steam. And don’t go running your mouth in front of your sister-in-law.”

The team shared, knowing smirks as Conrad reached for his phone.

“Before you feed the little sister-in-law, you’d better keep the big sister-in-law happy, huh?”

A moment later, my phone buzzed in my hand.

As I listened to Conrad’s smooth voice tell me how much he missed me, a hollow ache settled in my chest, sinking straight to the bottom of my heart.

He never suspected that I had secretly joined the team as their intelligence analyst, shadowing his every mission from behind the scenes.

The night he first shared a bed with Artemis Thatcher, sleep was an impossible luxury for me. I lay awake, staring into the void, unable to silence the ache in my chest.

After ending the call with Conrad, I dialed another number, my voice steady despite the turmoil within.

“I accept your terms. I’ll leave the team and start over, far away from here.”

The reply came calm and measured.

“Understood. Once the decapitation mission is complete, I’ll personally ensure your safe passage abroad.”

“In three days.”

——

My gaze fixed on the surveillance feed in front of me.

On the screen, Conrad stood in his room, his impatience evident as he pinned Artemis against the wall. Torn shreds of her dress lay scattered across the floor and their entwined bodies spoke of a passion that seemed inescapable.

I stood before the large screen, forcing my eyes open as though punishing myself with every unbearable detail.

Every frame confirmed what I already knew: Conrad’s betrayal.

Artemis had joined the special ops team three months ago, slipping into her role like she belonged. During one mission, she was drugged and Conrad, as the team leader, carried her into his room.

Three days and nights passed before he finally opened the door. He emerged looking utterly pleased with himself while Artemis followed, her cheeks flushed with a glow that spoke volumes.

From that moment, every mission saw them together, Conrad ensuring she was by his side. They always shared the same room, night after night.

I had braced myself for this moment, yet the sight of it unfolding on the screen crushed me in ways I didn’t expect. The betrayal felt fresh and the ache in my chest was unbearable.

It wasn’t until the dead of night that Conrad finally stopped, his face brimming with satisfaction.

He strode into the bathroom without a backward glance. When Artemis tried to follow, the door slammed in her face, shutting her out coldly.

“Stay away from me. I’m going home. I don’t want my wife smelling someone else on me.”

Her voice trembled, tinged with grievance. “I’ve stood by your side, braving life and death, yet I’m still nothing compared to your little pure flower wife?”

Conrad tilted her chin with an almost mocking gesture, his words sharp and unforgiving. “What are you? Just a tool to satisfy my needs. Learn your place.”

Her tears streamed down uncontrollably, a torrent of heartbreak that failed to stir even a flicker of sympathy from him.

As Conrad dressed and left without a glance, Artemis was left sobbing, her swollen eyes a testament to the pain she bore.

Conrad remained as detached as ever.

“I promised Dahlia I’d spend time with her. It’s been a week since I last saw her, so I’ll be with her for the next few days.”

Without sparing me a glance, he walked away.

When he finally came home, I was curled up on the couch with a book in hand.

The scent of cologne clung to him, the one I had lovingly chosen for him. Now, it was nothing more than a mask for his betrayals.

As he drew closer, a faint trace of Artemis still lingered on him. No matter how thoroughly he scrubbed, he could never completely erase the evidence of another woman.

His large hand slid around my waist, the other drifting along my leg with a suggestive touch.

“Wife, how about we have a baby?”

The facade I had maintained so carefully crumbled at that moment.

I pushed him away without a word and locked myself in the bathroom.

There, I scrubbed my skin until it was red and raw, as though trying to wash away every trace of him. Only when exhaustion overtook me did I collapse against the cold, tiled wall.