On Couples' Day, I received a last-minute urgent request from a client to help feed her dog at her residence.

The client's home is located in the same residential area as Zachary Yandon's and my marital home. Even the passcode to her home is very similar to ours, with the last four digits being Zachary's birthday.

When I open the door, it feels as though I've walked into my own home. The furnishings in my client's home are surprisingly the same as the furnishings in my own home. Even the Itorian men's loafers placed at the doorway are the exact same pair as I bought for Zachary last month.

I stand at the doorway hesitantly without entering the home.

It's then that a golden retriever dashes out of one of the rooms and runs into my arms. The force is so strong that I stumble backward, hitting my back on the door.

I know I'm not imagining things at all.

It turns out the client's dog is Bingo, my furbaby who went missing three years ago!

My golden retriever, Bingo, had gone missing three years ago while on a morning run with Zachary Yandon.

I had been utterly heartbroken at the news. For a long time after that, Zachary, compelled by his guilt, would spend hours handing out flyers with me after work. We even posted missing dog notices online on every social media platform and community group chat.

Despite our efforts, we failed to find Bingo even after several months.

I had never once doubted Zachary's sincerity.

Yet now, I suddenly found Bingo in a client's home, one that looked almost identical to my own home. Besides that, there was that pair of men's shoes by the foyer…

I didn't dare let myself continue down that train of thought. After all, Zachary and I were about to get married in two months.

Nonetheless, Bingo recognized me and wagged his tail madly. Gently biting down on the edge of my pants, he tugged me further inside the house.

I slowly stepped into the house that was almost a clone of my own. Everywhere my eyes landed caused my heart to clench just a little tighter.

On the countertop of the kitchen island were a pair of porcelain coffee mugs—the exact same ones Zachary and I had.

An ash-gray cashmere cardigan was draped over the armrest of the living room couch, and when I got closer, the distinctive scent of Zachary's cologne drifted to my nose.

I was absolutely certain that cardigan was the one I had thought was lost at the dry cleaner's. I had been searching for it for ages.

At the time, Zachary had comforted me, saying that I shouldn't feel guilty and that I could always just buy him a new one.

As it turned out, it had simply been left at someone else's house.

Not only that, but a huge photo hanging smack-dab in the middle of the living room showed Zachary leaning down to passionately kiss another woman.

The most painful thing of all? The watermark in the corner of the photo showed it had been taken on Valentine's Day, supposedly the day Zachary had been busy attending an "academic conference".

Then what about today?

Zachary had left for work early in the morning and told me at noon that he had been sent to another city to assist with a surgery.

Then, in the afternoon, I received a request from this client, who said that her boyfriend had decided to take her to a hot springs resort at the last minute to celebrate Couples' Day.

In other words, Zachary wasn't off in another city to assist with some surgery; he was enjoying the hot springs with the woman in this photo!

Taking out my phone, I called the cardiac surgery ward at Selome Hospital.

"Hello, is Dr. Yandon free for the next two days? I would like to make an appointment for a follow-up."

"Dr. Yandon is away on leave and will only return to work the day after tomorrow."

"Is he really away on leave?"

"I'm sorry, but according to the duty roster, Dr. Yandon is truly away on leave. Would you like to make an appointment with one of the other doctors?"

I stood rooted to the spot as my mind went blank, not even realizing it when the call ended.

Eventually, I was snapped out of my daze by the chime of my phone, indicating that I had a message.

It was from Zachary.

"Honey, I was asked to aid in an emergency surgery at the last moment, so I won't be able to make it back tonight. Happy Couple's Day! Even though you have to spend it alone, remember to be happy, okay? I love you."

The words seemed to stab at my eyes, making them sting.

He was clearly using work as an excuse to spend the occasion with some other woman, yet here he was, still pretending to be loving.

After giving it some thought, I realized that in the past three years since Bingo had gone missing, Zachary had claimed to have last-minute surgeries, academic conferences, or been sent to other cities for assistance countless times.

It was very likely that most of those instances had been a ruse for him to go and cheat on me.

And I had believed him all those times, never once suspecting anything.

At that moment, I suddenly noticed a blinking red light in the corner of the living room—a security camera.

Realization dawned on me.

This wasn't a last-minute request from a client.

This woman had clearly been a mistress for too long and had grown impatient. This was a declaration of war on me so that she could become Zachary's official wife!

I took Bingo home with me, as my many years as a vet told me that there was something very off with him.

Bingo had been an exuberant dog since he was a puppy. After reuniting with me, he had lunged at me in excitement, nuzzled me, wagged his tail…

However, he had never once made a sound, not even a soft whine. He had been entirely silent, too silent.

Anxious over my beloved dog, I placed him on my worktable and began gently examining him.

His teeth were yellow and covered in plaque, while his gums were pale and colorless. Besides that, his fur was a dry, knotted mess that came off in clumps when I ran my fingers through it.

Clearly, Bingo hadn't received even the most basic care.

Taking a deep breath, I parted the long fur at the back of his neck and felt around his skin.

Everywhere my fingers touched was uneven and rough, like scar tissue. Old and new, the jagged scars crisscrossed his entire neck.

These were the scars left behind by prolonged and frequent use of a shock collar.

The intensity of the electric currents running through these collars was meant to "painlessly train" a dog, but it was actually strong enough to make even a human's muscles seize up.

Bingo's neck was densely covered in such injuries.

My fingers shook violently at the implications.

I still remembered how Zachary had waited with me for Bingo to be born, how clumsy he had been as he wiped the newborn puppy clean.

How could he be so cruel? If he didn't like Bingo, why did he have to pretend? Why did he have to steal my dog away and gift him to someone else, only to treat him like this?

Then again, was my situation any different than Bingo's? Zachary had treated both of us in the same manner.

That woman was actually a member at my vet clinic. Upon checking her membership, I learned that she was named Sierra Goldman, and she worked at Selome Hospital's cardiothoracic surgery ward as well.

She had even paid using Zachary's supplementary credit card, almost as though she were daring me to notice.

One thing after another was slowly revealed, exposing the whole truth to me.

Using the number listed on Sierra's membership, I was able to find her secondary account on social media.

The first post I saw was from 10 o'clock this morning.

"Off to celebrate Couples' Day!"

In the background of the attached photo was a small charm I knew to be hanging in Zachary's car. I instantly recognized it because I had personally made it myself.

The second post was from three days ago.

"I wonder if it's a quirk from work? My doctor husband loves to do it on the dining table."

The uploaded photo showed a rosewood dining table—the one in our marital home!

That had been a wedding gift from my mother! How dare he?

The third post was a collage from Valentine's Day—a snapshot of a four-digit bank transfer, a Cartier bracelet, a private hot spring sprinkled with rose petals, a glass of red wine with lipstick marks on the rim, a bikini that had been torn to shreds, an outstanding view of a fireworks show from a floor-to-ceiling window, and last but not least, the bare back of a man smoking a cigarette.

There, tattooed across the man's waist, were the initials "JL".

Jessica Lane. My name.

Meanwhile, the only thing I received from Zachary on Valentine's Day was a measly card that read, "I love you", and it wasn't even handwritten!

From the stark contrast in how he treated us, it was clear that he wasn't just playing around with Sierra. All those fake emergencies, academic conferences, and times when he suddenly had to work overtime had been so he could spend time with her—so he could stay over at her place, take her to a hotel, or go out on a short vacation with her.

He fulfilled every single one of her requests, including giving Bingo to her as a gift.

The oldest post on that account happened to be from the day Bingo went "missing".

In the photo, a three-month-old Bingo was cowering in a corner while trembling. The caption read, "My boyfriend gave me a gift as a token of his love for me, all because I was unhappy. Although it's rather disobedient, I'll definitely train it to be an obedient dog."

The pen I was holding broke in two with a crack.

"Zachary, Sierra, you two sure are something! I'm going to make you pay for this!" I vowed.

I opened my banking app and swiftly unlinked all of Zachary's credit cards from my account, then canceled the automatic transfers for our marital home's house loan, utility bill, and management fee. After that, I transferred the remaining balance in the account Zachary and I shared for our expenses to my own personal account.

Back when we first started dating, we agreed to have a shared account. However, Zachary had never once put any money in. He was always complaining about how his salary wasn't paid on a fixed date or that his income had decreased. He even whined about having to support his parents.

Not once did I ever suspect anything was amiss. I bore our shared expenses and even paid for the renovations and house loan for our marital home.

However, it seemed my trust had simply brought Zachary a lot of convenience when it came to living two lives.

With me, he was the busy yet thoughtful, supportive fiance.

But with Sierra, he became the sugar daddy who provided everything she could ever ask for, a figure worthy of her worship. He used my money to please another woman and form another family, another home, with her.

I dug through the drawer for the folder hidden deep inside it. That folder contained the renovation contract for our house, the receipts for payment of all the construction materials and utilities, and the payment records for the house loan.

I took photos of them all, then dug out my bank statements and saved all of those too.

It still wasn't enough!

Finding three large black trash bags, I tossed away everything Zachary owned. I even opened the closet and dumped out all of his clothing. I also tossed every single photo I could find, each a snapshot of our shared moments from the past five years, into the communal dumpster outside the building.

At last, Zachary returned in the afternoon.

He immediately hugged me. "I'm sorry, Jessica. I didn't get to spend the occasion with you again."

Fishing out a necklace from a well-known luxury brand, he added, "Here. The surgery came too suddenly, so this is to make up for it. Do you like it?"

With that, he stared at me with what he thought to be an adoring look.

I had to fight hard to quell the nausea roiling within me. Calmly accepting the necklace from him, I then placed it down on the nearest surface, which happened to be the dining table.

"Was the surgery a success?"

"Yeah. We managed to save the patient," Zachary answered vaguely before sweeping me into his arms and leaning down to kiss me. "Did my fiancee miss me?"

As I watched his face grow closer, an image of him kissing Sierra abruptly popped into my mind, making me even more repulsed.

Turning my face slightly, I said, "Don't. I'm on my period."

Zachary paused briefly, a hint of disappointment flashing across his face. However, it was swiftly replaced by concern.

"Oh. Then drink more water and get some more rest."

He took my mug to get me some water, only to realize that his mug was gone.

"Honey, where's my mug?"

I lowered my gaze, prepared to lay all my cards on the table.

However, Zachary's phone rang just then. He checked the screen quickly, his expression taking on a hint of panic.

"It's from the hospital. There could be an emergency again."

He headed to the balcony with his phone and lowered his voice. Still, I was able to hear everything.

"Don't cry, babe. I'll be right over."

Zachary came back inside and put on his jacket while shooting me an apologetic smile. "It's an emergency, honey. I have to go."

I smiled at him. "You only just got back, yet you're leaving already?"

"Yeah. A critically ill patient's condition suddenly took a turn for the worse," he replied in a tone filled with reluctance. "Don't wait up for me, okay? You can sleep first."

"Alright." I saw him off at the elevator.

However, the moment the doors shut, I immediately followed him down.