For the sake of her secretary, who was supposedly battling cancer, my wife, Sofia Griffin, made a shocking proposal.

She would pay ten million for taking his virginity as an attempt to help him raise the funds needed.

I had barely opened my mouth to object when she cut me down with a sharp rebuke.

She said, "Chris has always been a proud man. Just giving him the money would seem like a handout and hurt his pride.

"Can't you try to be compassionate? Do you really have to be jealous over something this small?"

I said nothing.

I simply smiled and nodded.

What she didn't know was that, as an infectious disease specialist, I had already recognized the signs.

It wasn't cancer... It was late-stage AIDS.

It was already past midnight when Sofia Griffin finally came home.

She slipped off her blouse as if nothing happened, exposing the bite marks scattered across her skin.

I stood there, frozen, unable to speak for a long moment.

She was the one who broke the silence.

"It was Chris's first time. He's young and impulsive. It's only natural that it got a little rough."

My fists tightened. I could not hold back and questioned, "Did he at least use protection?"

Sofia shook her head calmly. "I took something beforehand. Stop worrying over nothing."

At her words, the tension in my chest dropped straight to the pit of my stomach.

Just then, her phone rang.

It was Christopher Parnell. His voice trembled on the other end, almost on the verge of tears.

"Sophie, something's wrong. It's suddenly swollen and painful down there. I'm in a lot of pain. What's happening to me?"

She panicked immediately.

"Don't be scared. I'm coming over right now. Give me ten minutes! I'll be right there!"

Even though my heart felt numb, I still reached out to stop her.

I wanted to tell her the truth about Christopher's condition.

But she brushed me off, irritation written all over her face.

"I told you already! I'm only doing this to help Chris. If there were really something between us, would I have let you know about it?"

She shot me a glare, hurriedly changed her clothes, and headed for the door.

Before leaving, she tossed one last sentence over her shoulder.

"Wash my clothes and underwear. They're stained with blood; if you leave them for too long, the stains will be hard to get out."

The door slammed shut.

After she left, I stood there blankly, staring at the wedding photo on the wall.

All these years, I was by her side as we built everything from nothing.

From a cramped rental barely ten square meters wide to the luxury apartment we now owned in the city center.

Every hardship along the way was etched into my memory.

She was, by all accounts, a devoted wife.

After we earned our first real fortune, the very first thing she did was hold the wedding we'd once missed.

She even had a ring custom-made for me.

The diamond was not big, and there was a faint crack running through it.

Even so, I always treasured it like a priceless heirloom.

And yet, this same woman, praised by relatives and neighbors as the perfect wife, did the one thing that chilled me to the bone.

With no protection at all, after such high-risk exposure, the chances of infection were almost certain.

I was angry, but I could not bring myself to abandon her.

She still had a seventy-two-hour window.

If she took the medication in time, it could still prevent transmission.

I was just about to call and warn her when a new post popped up on my social feed.

It was from Christopher.

[They say married women have strong needs. It looks like it's true. I can barely keep up.]

The photos showed a bed in disarray, stained and chaotic. Among them was one with scratches running across his back.

On the surface, it sounded like a complaint, but in truth, it was a straight-up brag about how intense their night had been.

But none of that was what caught my eye.

Instead, it was the ring on his finger.

The design was almost identical to mine, with only one main difference; The diamond was bigger.

My heart jolted.

I found the serial number engraved inside my wedding band and called the brand's customer service.

After checking, the representative replied politely,

"Ms. Griffin did indeed order a diamond ring from our store before. However, the first batch had a flaw, so we remade another one afterward."

She paused, then added, "Mr. Parnell, we're very sorry for the inconvenience. Is there anything else you're dissatisfied with at the moment?"

I forced down my emotions and denied it softly before hanging up.

So that wedding ring was custom-made for Christopher from the very beginning.

The one I received was nothing more than a flawed reject.

In that moment, it felt like someone clamped a hand around my throat. It felt painful and suffocating.

Just as despair threatened to swallow me whole, Sofia suddenly called.

Her voice was frantic.

"Honey, Chris is covered in red rashes, and his lymph nodes are swollen. What's going on? You're a doctor. Should he go get checked?"

Listening to her description, I became even more certain.

After being infected, Christopher did not take medication to control the virus at all.

Judging by his current symptoms, this was not just late-stage AIDS.

He had likely contracted other infectious diseases as well. Syphilis, for example.

On the other end, Sofia kept pressing, "Honey, say something! Give me a straight answer!"

I clenched my teeth, then replied calmly, "It's probably just common complications. He'll be fine after a few days' rest."

Then I hung up.

Outside, the night was thick and silent.

I put on gloves and carefully gathered Sofia's clothes. Then I stepped onto the balcony and burned them all to ashes.

I knew very well her infection was only a matter of time.

Living under the same roof, one careless moment and I could be next.

For now, the only thing I could do was to keep my distance without alerting her.

Early the next morning, I packed my bags and left in a hurry.

Only then did I message Sofia, claiming I had to travel out of province for work and would not be back for half a month.

After settling into a hotel, I opened a surveillance app on my phone, one I never used before.

A few months ago, the neighborhood upgraded its security system. The maintenance staff installed cameras in every home.

Sofia was not around at the time, and I was too busy to tell her.

Within moments, the app connected to the bedroom feed.

What I saw made my blood run cold.

I had been gone for less than half a day, and Sofia already brought Christopher home.

He was standing there now, a towel slung around his waist, fresh from the shower.

In his hand was my razor.

"Sophie, your husband's razor is really something. It's great for shaving, and even better for."

He grinned wickedly as he spoke, dropping the towel in front of her.

My blood surged instantly.

That razor was worth thousands, and he used it like that!

Sofia flushed, biting her finger with a coy smile. "Chris, you're such a bad boy!"

The next second, Christopher lunged forward.

"Sophie, didn't you say your husband was boring and stiff? You told me to be a little rough with you. What's wrong now? You don't like it anymore?"

As the two of them tumbled onto the bed, I shut the app immediately.

If I kept watching, I felt like the disease would crawl through the screen and infect me too.

Half a month passed in the blink of an eye.

I took preventive medication in advance, put on a mask, and forced myself to return home.

I thought that since I warned Sofia, she would at least have the decency to send Christopher away first.

But the moment I pushed the door open, he was still there, lounging on the sofa, wearing my personal sleepwear.

And what enraged me even more was the blanket my mother hand-knitted for me before she died, the one I barely even used.

He was wiping his feet with it!

I swallowed my anger and turned to Sofia.

"Sofia, you brought an outsider into our home to live here. Shouldn't you at least have discussed it with me?"

Before she could respond, another voice came from the kitchen.

"This house was bought by my daughter. She can let whoever she wants stay. Who are you to interfere?"

I froze.

Only then did I realize my mother-in-law, Karen Mason, was there too.

She shot me an impatient look and stepped protectively in front of Christopher.

"Besides, Christopher isn't an outsider," Karen snapped, "Thanks to him, my daughter is finally pregnant. Unlike you, you useless waste of space."

Her words hit me like a jolt of electricity.

I looked at Sofia again, and she avoided my gaze, her lips moving faintly.

"Honey, you know Mom's always wanted a grandchild. But all these years, we tried so hard, and nothing ever happened."

Christopher spoke up timidly at that moment.

"Casper, don't blame Sophie. It's all my fault. I mixed up the birth control pills and the vitamins last time. That's how she ended up pregnant. If you're uncomfortable with it, I'll take her to the hospital right now and have it taken care of."

His eyes reddened as he pretended to help Sofia to her feet.

Karen exploded instantly.

She rushed forward and slapped me hard across the face.

"Casper Williams, are you trying to wipe out our family line? I'm telling you: if anything happens to this baby, I won't let you off!"

The ringing in my ears drowned everything out.

I held my cheek, stunned, unable to react.

When I turned my head, I saw three sets of cutlery laid out on the dining table.

Karen noticed my gaze and said matter-of-factly, "I didn't know you were coming back. I only prepared lunch for three."

I understood exactly what she meant.

Biting my lip, I turned and walked out.

The door slammed shut behind me.

Even so, I could still hear her deliberately raised voice from inside.

"Sofia, you're a billionaire now. You should've divorced that loser ages ago! After all these years, he couldn't even get you pregnant. Maybe he's just impotent. He's the one who's not worthy of you. He wasted the best years of your life!"

Leaning against the door, I suddenly laughed.

Back when Sofia was starting her business, I interned at the hospital during the day and did manual labor at construction sites at night to earn extra money.

Every cent I made went to her.

As for the fact that we never had children. She was the one who insisted on a child-free marriage, saying childbirth was too painful.

The irony was suffocating.

Her mother humiliated me endlessly, and Sofia never once defended me.

The burning sting on my face faded, but inside, there was only numbness.

Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

It was a message from a colleague.

"Casper, I got Christopher's medical records from the CDC."

My brows tightened as I opened the file.

I already suspected the worst, but seeing the long list of results still left me stunned.

Late-stage AIDS combined with tertiary syphilis was what I had more or less confirmed before.

But I did not imagine that aside from those two, he also carried over a dozen other infectious diseases.

Most were transmitted through blood and sexual contact.

But close daily contact, such as sharing towels, utensils, or even contact with broken skin, all carried risk.

Fortunately, that was no longer my concern.

After all, someone else would be the one to suffer.

I applied for extended leave at the hospital.

After collecting myself, I booked a ticket and flew to a small seaside town I always wanted to visit.

On the 20th day away from home, Sofia finally called.

"Casper, where have you been? Even if you're angry, there should be a limit to your tantrum."

When I did not respond, her tone softened.

"Don't take what my mom said to heart. She just wants a grandchild too badly. That's why she lost her temper."

She paused, as if choosing her words carefully.

"And, Chris and I have already discussed it. After the baby's born, I'll give him a sum of money and send him overseas. He'll never come back."