When I'm cleaning my home, I sweep out an extremely thin condom that has already been used from under the bed.

The sight of it makes my heart sink to the pits of my stomach.

I'm severely allergic to latex, so there's no way I would ever use such things.

Just as I'm contemplating whether I should ask my fiancee, Shelly Hartman, about the condom, she sends me a voice message on WhatsApp at that moment.

"Babe, I have a company dinner to attend tonight, so I won't be going home for dinner. I might be home later than usual. You can just go to bed early. There's no need to wait up for me. Love you so much!"

Suppressing my rage, I asked Shelly, "Where's your team building at?"

She paused for a few seconds before sending me an address.

I immediately grabbed my keys and headed over.

The moment I stepped into the restaurant, I spotted Shelly sitting by the window.

There was no team-building event at all. It was just her and her boss, Russell Wilkins, having a candlelit dinner.

I silently found a corner to sit in.

They were laughing and chatting, and Shelly had a coy, bashful expression I had never seen on her before.

They even had a bit of fun with it, locking arms and drinking from each other's glasses while everyone watched.

Then came an even more glaring sight.

Russell naturally and effortlessly slid his hand under the table and rested it on her stocking-clad leg.

Shelly stiffened for a moment but didn't pull away. Instead, she just shot him a feigned, reproachful glance.

Emboldened, Russell leaned in and said, "Babe, don't go home tonight."

Even though his voice wasn't loud, I still heard it.

"No. If I stay out all night, he'll get suspicious," Shelly replied hesitantly.

"Him?" Russell let out a contemptuous chuckle. "You mean Emory Sullivan, that pathetic junior employee? What can he give you? The stability of being broke?"

His tone was utterly dismissive. "Can his meager salary really make you happy? Don't you find it boring to be with him? Can a man with no sense of romance even be called a man?"

Instead of speaking up for me, Shelly just looked down and fiddled with her wine glass.

I sat in the shadows, my blood rushing to my head.

I wanted nothing more than to storm over and land a few punches on Russell, then grab Shelly and demand an explanation.

But I managed to hold back.

Acting on impulse would only make me look more pathetic.

I was going to make them regret this and make them pay in my own way.

Russell's hand lingered on her thigh the entire time. When he got up to pay the bill, his arm was tightly wrapped around Shelly's waist.

She feigned resistance as she leaned into him, and the two of them headed toward the elevators to the hotel room like conjoined twins.

After they disappeared, I sat for another five minutes before taking out my phone and sending Shelly a text.

"Is your team building over? I'm nearby. I'll come up and get you."

Once the message was sent, I placed my phone screen-side up. I pictured her in some room upstairs, flustered the moment she saw the message.

Half a minute later, Shelly called and said in a flustered tone, "You don't have to do that. We're still playing games, so it'll be a while. Maybe an hour or two? It's hard to say. You should head back. I'll just take a cab."

"It's fine. I'm not in a hurry." I leaned back in my seat. "I'll wait for you downstairs. Come down when you're down. Or tell me the room number, and I'll come up."

"Don't come up!" She was practically shouting, then immediately realized her mistake and quickly lowered her voice to explain, "It should be wrapping up soon. Let me see if I can leave a bit early."

"Alright."

In less than five minutes, Shelly came out.

I looked her over. Her dress was slightly wrinkled, and there was a small tear in her stockings just above the knee.

On the side of her neck was a small red mark, as if recently kissed hard.

Most noticeable, though, was the look in her eyes. It carried a suppressed resentment and the impatience of someone who had been interrupted.

Pretending not to notice, I smiled and walked up to her.

"Did you have fun?"

She walked straight past me, answering stiffly, "It was okay. Let's just go home."

I nodded, not pressing any further, and followed her to the parking lot.

Throughout the entire ride, she sat with her lips pressed tightly together, gazing out the window in silence.

One could cut the tension in the car with a knife.

Back home, she kicked off her heels and tossed her bag onto the couch before walking straight into the bathroom.

After she finished showering and was drying her hair as she walked into the bedroom, I asked softly, "Honey, it's been a while since we've been intimate. How about we do it tonight?"

Her hand froze on her hair. Then, without looking at me, she replied, "I'm too tired. I worked all day and had to socialize in the evening, so I really don't have the energy right now."

I had expected as much, so I simply replied, "Okay."

Just then, the phone on her nightstand lit up.

On the screen flashed the name "Russell."

Shelly immediately grabbed the phone and answered it while saying to me, "There's something going on at work. Go ahead and sleep first."

With that, she quickly walked out of the bedroom and pulled the door shut behind her.

I quietly moved to the door.

In the living room, she said in a lowered voice, "I know. He's not asleep yet. It's fine."

Her voice carried a tenderness she had never once given me. "Don't be so impatient. I'll make it up to you tomorrow, alright? I'll wear black stockings, and you can do whatever you want. Don't worry—unless you say so, I won't let him touch me."

Her voice gradually softened, punctuated by a few light giggles.

I stood there in place, feeling no anger. Instead, there was only an icy calm.

More than ten minutes later, I heard her hang up and walk back toward the bedroom.

I immediately returned to the bed and lay down with my back to the door. Then, I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

Shelly gently pushed the door open and paused at the doorway for a moment before carefully getting into bed.

The next day was a Saturday.

Shelly rushed through breakfast, then went to put on makeup and change her clothes.

Before leaving, she stood at the door putting on her heels.

Watching her carefully made-up face, I slowly asked, "Will you be back for dinner?"

She pulled the door open without looking back. "Not sure. Depends on how much work there is. I might not make it back. Don't wait for me tonight."

The door clicked shut.

I walked to the window and looked down.

Shelly didn't head toward the bus stop. Instead, she got into a black Mercedes that had been waiting by the curb.

I took out my phone and made a call.

"Hello? I need your help with something."

The noon sun was a bit glaring.

Carrying the carefully prepared gift, I went to Shelly's parents' house alone without telling her.

Her mother, Nadine Drake, froze for a moment when she opened the door, then immediately warmed up.

Her father, Franklin Hartman, also stood up from the couch and walked over with a smile to greet me.

Mrs. Hartman took the noticeably expensive gift from my hands, her tone growing more cordial.

"Emory, what brings you here? Why didn't Shelly come with you?"

"She's working overtime today. I realized I hadn't visited you both in a while, so I thought I'd drop by."

"What perfect timing! I'll whip up a few more dishes—you have to try them."

The table was laden with a generous feast, and Mrs. Hartman kept piling food onto my plate.

As we chatted, the conversation gradually turned to serious matters.

Mr. Hartman set down his fork and asked tentatively, "Emory, you and Shelly have been together for several years now, so don't you think it's time to get married?"

I swallowed the food in my mouth and replied with a measured smile, "Mr. Hartman, Mrs. Hartman, don't worry. I've already got the wedding date in mind. I just need to finalize it with Shelly. As for the wedding gift…"

I paused, noticing them subconsciously lean forward.

"My family and I have discussed it, and we've decided to give 1.8 million dollars in cash," I said casually, as if I were talking about the weather.

Mr. Hartman and Mrs. Hartman were both stunned. They exchanged a glance, unable to hide their surprise.

I continued, "Plus a fully paid-off two-thousand-square-foot apartment downtown and a BMW—both will be under Shelly's name alone."

"1.8 million dollars? And an apartment and a car?" Mrs. Hartman repeated in a trembling voice. She could hardly believe it. "Emory, Shelly never mentioned your family being this well-off before."

I'd come prepared with an answer.

"We just got lucky, I guess," I replied with an easy-going laugh. "There was a demolition on some old property back in my hometown, and we got a settlement. My parents said it worked out perfectly, as it could go toward starting our life together as a married couple."

This reason was simple, straightforward, and hard to verify.

The doubt on their faces vanished in an instant, replaced entirely by a pleasant surprise.

Mr. Hartman gave my shoulder a firm pat, his face beaming with happiness.

"Good! Wonderful! We don't have to worry about Shelly anymore now that she's in good hands."

Mrs. Hartman was smiling from ear to ear, looking at me as if I were a treasure.

I sneered inwardly. Although they had always been polite to me before this, there had always been a subtle judgment—the kind reserved for a lowly office worker.

Now that the money, apartment, and car were laid out, their attitude toward me had completely changed.

Like a dutiful and devoted son-in-law, I continued to raise the stakes.

"Mr. Hartman, Mrs. Hartman, once the wedding is behind us and we're settled, I'll send you two on an all-expenses-paid luxury tour across the country. You just have fun and buy whatever you like."

"An all-expenses-paid luxury tour?" Mrs. Hartman exclaimed, her eyes lighting up.

"That's right. Since you're both retired and don't have much going on, you might as well get out and have some fun."

I smiled, painting a picture they had never even imagined for themselves.

"Oh my, we couldn't possibly accept the offer," Mr. Hartman said politely, but a smile was already plastered all over his face.

"It's only right," I said sincerely. "Shelly is the best thing that's ever happened to me, so it's my responsibility to take care of her family as well."

I spoke so genuinely that even I almost believed it.

Mrs. Hartman tightly grasped my hand. "Emory, you're too kind! Shelly is truly lucky to be with you."

I flashed them an impeccable smile.

It was past 1:00 am when Shelly finally returned home, reeking of cigarettes, alcohol, and men's cologne.

She kicked off her heels, her steps a little unsteady. When she saw me sitting on the sofa, she stopped.

"You're still awake?"

"I was waiting for you." I set down the book I hadn't actually been reading and said calmly, "I want to talk about getting married."

She froze for a second before asking, "Why bring this up all of a sudden?"

"It's not really that sudden, is it? We've been together for years. I went to see your parents today, and we worked everything out."

She turned around, looking surprised. "You went to my parents' place? Why didn't you tell me first?"

"I wanted to surprise you." I walked up to her, watching her expression change. "I told them I'd give them 1.8 million dollars as a wedding gift."

Shelly's hand tightened around her glass.

I continued, "Plus a fully paid two-thousand-square-foot apartment in the city center and a new BMW for you. Both will be in your name only."

The surprise on her face slowly gave way to barely contained joy.

"Emory, where did you get so much money?" she asked, her eyes shining bright.

"The old place back home was torn down, and we got a settlement," I replied, keeping my tone light. "I didn't bring it up earlier since it wasn't final. But now that the money's in, we should finally set a date for the wedding."

The last trace of doubt in her eyes vanished, replaced by an excited gleam.

"Honestly, you should have told me something this important sooner. But since you've already talked it over with my parents, what more can I say?"

She stepped forward and leaned gently into my chest, her arms wrapping around my waist.

"I'll do whatever you say."

After her shower, Shelly came out wearing a silk nightgown.

She lay down beside me and her hands on my chest. With a sultry look, she said, "Honey, I want to…"

She tilted her head up and pressed her lips toward mine.

Suddenly, I remembered her saying to Russell on the phone, "Unless you say so, I won't let him touch me." My stomach churned, and I nearly threw up.

Before her lips could touch mine, I pushed her away.

She froze.

I sat up and took a deep breath. "I'm not feeling well today. Let's just go to sleep. We've got a ton of things to take care of tomorrow."

In the darkness, I could feel her bewildered gaze, along with a hint of indignation at being rejected. However, she didn't say anything. Instead, she turned over and lay down with her back facing me.

Before long, the sound of steady breathing came from beside me.

I lay awake all night, staring at the ceiling until dawn.

On the morning of our engagement party, I quietly picked up Shelly's phone while she was getting her hair done. The passcode was still the one we'd set when we first got together.

The latest texts were from Russell, sent in the early hours.

"The thought of you marrying him makes me sick."

"Where is the makeup room? I'll come find you before the ceremony."

"I want you there in that dress."

"I won't wear a condom. If you get pregnant, consider it Emory's engagement gift."

I smirked coldly and silently put the phone back in its place.

Then, I took out my own phone and sent a message, "They'll be meeting at the makeup room before the ceremony. Proceed with the rest according to plan."