It was already past midnight when I returned to the hotel. Gazing out at the glittering skyline of the city's central business district, I realized I did not want to go back to where Max was.

Without hesitation, I grabbed my phone and rescheduled my flight—to a private island this time.

After treating myself to a spa session, I fell into a peaceful sleep. Max had not tried to contact me all night.

The next morning at the airport, my phone started buzzing frantically. I glanced at it once and declined the call, but he kept calling until I finally put my phone on silent.

Before long, his messages flood in.

[Max: Suri, what game are you playing now? Hide and seek?]

[Max: You're being so childish!]

[Max: Act your age—these young girl games won't make me want you; they'll just make me sick.]

[Max: Stop trying to act cute. It's disgusting, got it?]

He hurled accusations at me from his high horse, yet he did not mention a word about leaving with another woman or staying out all night. The double standards were infuriating.

Ignoring his messages, I called my lawyer and asked him to draft a divorce agreement, emphasizing the need for absolute confidentiality. Nonetheless, I knew Max would not let me go so easily.

Max and I had known each other for 12 years and married for five. We were once a young, struggling couple, living in a tiny basement apartment with no windows.

I supported him when he built his company from nothing. In those early startup days, we could barely afford food, so I worked multiple jobs to support him. My coworkers looked down on me when they saw me picking through discounted produce at the grocery store after work, but I endured the humiliation.

The first investment in Max's company came from the 'centipede' scar on my stomach.

When AI technology was just emerging, Max had a brilliant idea for a project but no investors. While we were meeting potential investors, a deranged man burst in with a knife. I shielded him and ended up stabbed in the stomach.

That incident brought Max his first round of funding—and his breakthrough.

We built the company together, celebrating every milestone, big or small. When the company went public, Max threw me a grand proposal with the help of the entire company. Every billboard in the city lit up with our love story.

He went above and beyond, hiring top lawyers and witnesses to transfer me 51% of the company shares. He swore he would never betray me and backed that promise up with money as proof.

Who could have guessed that this man, who had sworn to love and protect me forever, would change his heart so easily?

I did not believe that money alone changed men. If they could be tempted, they were weak to begin with.

When did I first suspect Max? Perhaps it was when I overheard employees talking while bringing him medicine to the office. They said Max treated Coco differently, describing their interaction that eerily mirrored how Max treated me when we first started dating.

I did not see Max or Coco that day. When he came home that night, and I asked about it, he was defensive and dismissive.

"Suri, stay out of company business. Do I need to announce every time I change assistants? Besides, she's just a recent graduate, clumsy and clueless like you were. What's there to talk about?"

Yet, something still felt off. "Did she apply for the position herself?" I asked, knowing Max's standards were too high for just anyone to make the cut.

His response was strange, and he avoided meeting my gaze. "Of course not. A client recommended her, and she's capable enough."

As I helped him unbutton his shirt that night, I tried to reason with him. "Max, some women have ulterior motives. They might be your competitor's—"

Max suddenly shoved me away and angrily threw his shirt to the floor. "Suri, only dirty minds see dirt everywhere. She's just a kid, what would she know?"

That night, for the first time in our marriage, Max slept in another room. Sitting alone in our bedroom, I knew with crushing certainty that Max had fallen in love with someone else.

When I returned home after a week away, I discovered Max had not been home at all. Instead, Coco showed up at my door, carrying Max's Louis Vuitton suitcase with a triumphant smirk.

She said, "Suri, Mr. Davis has been so busy. He almost fainted at the office, and I—"

I looked at her, saying, "So he fainted at the office?"

Coco smiled sweetly as she replied, "No, Mr. Davis is resting at my place. I'm just here to get his clothes."

I did not let her step in. Instead, I gestured for the housekeeper to pack Max's clothes while keeping Coco outside. From tailored suits to loungewear, from spring to winter pieces—everything went into the suitcase until it was too heavy for her to carry.

Even so, she was not giving up. Struggling under the weight, she suddenly stopped in her tracks and marched back toward me with a gleaming smile.

"Suri, you've known Mr. Davis for so long. He always bites me when he gets intimate with me. Look at this—why does he do that?"

She tilted her head, clearly hoping to provoke me.

I chuckled. "Probably because he's a dog and likes gnawing on bones."

Coco's face darkened as she glared at me before storming off. As I turned to go inside, I called out, "Thanks for taking his luggage—and taking out the trash while you're at it!"

Life was peaceful without Max until my lawyer delivered the draft divorce papers. Unable to reach Max, I had to go to his office.

When I arrived, neither Max nor Coco were there. The receptionist mentioned they were at Disneyland.

The manager tried to brief me on company matters, but I waved him off. "I'm just dropping something off."

However, I froze in shock when I opened the door to Max's office. The once minimalist black-and-white decor was then splashed with color, the artwork replaced by intimate photos of Max and Coco.

A corner of the room had been converted into a mini-suite, complete with a bed, shower, and—shockingly—a pair of pink lingerie hung on the wall. The curtains were stained, and there was an unmistakable odor permeating the space.

The manager looked at me uncomfortably. "Mr. Davis occasionally rests here," he explained awkwardly.

"Then maybe he should keep it clean, especially for client meetings," I said, glancing at him. "This place reeks. Can't you smell it?"

I straightened a photo frame, noticing our wedding photo had been replaced with one of Max and Coco. Meanwhile, my photo lay discarded in a corner.

I picked up our photo, cut myself out of it, and tucked it into my purse. Then, I left the divorce papers in Max's desk drawer, asking the manager to make sure Max saw them.

Walking out, I took a deep breath and smiled at the manager. "The air's so much better out here."

The manager seemed to relax. "It really is."

On my way home, the cold wind gave me a headache. I absentmindedly scrolled through social media and stumbled upon Coco's post. She was showing off their date at the city's most exclusive fine-dining restaurant—Max's favorite place.

Not only did she flaunt the food, but she also shared a glimpse of Max's face and the gifts and flowers he had given her. It was a typical post of someone in the honeymoon phase of their relationship.

Of course, anyone who knew Macx could recognize him. Her caption even read, [True love is two hopeless romantics finding happiness together.]

I quickly screenshot everything—she was handing me evidence on a silver platter.

Halfway home, a wave of dizziness hit me. Remembering my doctor's orders, I reached for my medication but could barely swallow it. It was so bad that my driver had to help me inside.

After swallowing the medicine, I collapsed on the couch and drifted into a deep sleep.

I woke up to someone shaking my shoulder. Opening my eyes, I found Max's furious face looming over me.

"Suri, what the hell is wrong with you? She treated me to a meal at my favorite restaurant to cheer me up. Why did you like her post? Are you stalking her? How pathetic can you get?"