: 2

The department's welcome dinner was held at a high-end seafood restaurant.

Milo Rhodes, as my "plus-one," had shamelessly tagged along.

The official reason was to thank everyone for taking care of me, but it was painfully obvious who he was really there to see.

Inside the private room, everyone was toasting and drinking.

Yara Blanche had deliberately switched seats to sit directly across from Milo Rhodes.

Milo Rhodes peeled a shrimp for me while saying affectionately, "Jeannie is always so busy with work. Thank you all for your patience with her."

My colleagues chimed in with praise, "Director Forrest, you're so lucky! Your husband is so thoughtful."

I accepted the shrimp with a smile, but my gaze swept coldly under the table.

Yara Blanche had slipped off her high heels, and one of her feet, clad in black stockings, was tracing its way up Milo Rhodes's calf.

Milo Rhodes's body stiffened for a moment, then a look of secret excitement flickered across his face.

While fending off toasts from colleagues, he spread his legs under the table and clamped down on that mischievous foot.

The two of them, under the watchful eyes of dozens of people, were playing this sordid game under the cover of the tablecloth.

I was simply disgusted.

I aimed the sharp, slender heel of my right shoe at the top of Milo Rhodes's foot and stomped down. Hard.

Then I ground it in for good measure.

"AHH—!"

Milo Rhodes let out a bloodcurdling scream and shot up from his chair, his face instantly turning beet-red.

The private room fell silent in an instant. Everyone stared at him in surprise.

"What's wrong, honey?" I looked at him innocently. "Is your gout acting up?"

Milo Rhodes was breaking out in a cold sweat from the pain, but he didn't dare tell the truth.

He could hardly admit that his wife had stomped on his foot because he was having a clandestine affair under the table.

"N-nothing, just a leg cramp." He sat back down through gritted teeth, his hands still trembling.

Across the table, Yara Blanche's eyes grew red with worry, and she almost reached out to steady him.

I watched the scene unfold impassively, sneering inwardly.

'This is just the beginning.'

As the dinner wound down, everyone started playing Truth or Dare.

Yara Blanche lost a round.

Someone heckled, "Yara, tell us about your most memorable 'first time.' Where was it?"

For a gathering of adults, a question like that wasn't too over the top.

Yara Blanche, having had a little to drink, looked toward Milo Rhodes with flushed cheeks and a hazy gaze.

"Right in front of a floor-to-ceiling window." She bit her lip, her voice sickeningly sweet.

"The view was amazing. It felt like the whole city was at our feet. The experience... was fantastic."

Milo Rhodes understood the hint. His Adam's apple bobbed, and his eyes grew hot.

Our colleagues let out a chorus of suggestive jeers.

I raised my wine glass, swirled it gently, and interjected coldly,

"Is that so? You should be careful, then. Some of those floor-to-ceiling windows are poor quality. You wouldn't want to fall out and plunge to your death."

Yara Blanche's face paled, her smile freezing on her lips.

She shot me a guilty glance, only to find me looking down at my phone, as if I had just spoken casually.

A moment later, Yara Blanche made an excuse to go to the restroom.

Less than two minutes later, Milo Rhodes also clutched his stomach, claimed he felt unwell, and followed her out.

I put down my glass, grabbed the recording pen from my purse, and followed them silently.

A sign hung on the men's restroom door: "Under Maintenance."

I stood outside the door, listening to the sound of suppressed flirting from within.

"Honey, did that old hag hurt you when she stepped on you? Let me see."

"Hiss... Be gentle. That woman is crazy today. She's surprisingly strong."

"Hmph, she's just jealous that I'm young and beautiful. And you, honestly, when are you going to divorce her?"

"Soon, soon. It won't be long now. I'll make sure she leaves with nothing."

This was followed by a sickeningly wet, squelching sound.

Leaning against the wall, I pressed the stop button on my recording pen.

'So he doesn't just want to cheat, he wants to steal my money, too.'

'Milo Rhodes, your scheming is so loud I could hear it from the next city over.'

: No Way Out

The next morning, Milo Rhodes gave me a call.

He sounded frantic. "Honey, a pipe burst at home! It's a complete mess, totally flooded. The place is unlivable."

"I've already contacted a repair crew. I'll stay home to supervise for the next few days, so you should check into a hotel."

I held my phone, looking at the perfectly intact floor on the surveillance footage.

"Okay," I agreed promptly. "The hospital has a major surgery coming up anyway, so staying at a hotel nearby will be more convenient for me."

After hanging up, I immediately contacted a friend who works in security.

While Milo Rhodes was out picking up Yara Blanche, I went home and installed four pinhole cameras.

Total coverage. No blind spots.

That night, on the hotel's iPad, I saw quite a show.

Yara Blanche was wearing my silk nightgown, strutting back and forth in the living room.

She used my Ocean's Secret, then sprayed my perfume all over the room.

"This old hag's stuff is just expensive. There's nothing special about it."

Milo Rhodes came out of the bathroom, swept her into his arms, and the two of them tumbled onto my imported Italian leather sofa.

"Baby, don't mind her. Once we get the money, this house will be yours."

I watched the screen, my face devoid of expression as I saved several key clips.

'The more fun you have now, the harder you'll cry later.'

The next day, back at the hospital.

I went to the locker room to change into my white coat.

Yara Blanche was standing in front of the mirror, touching up her makeup, her locker door wide open.

Hanging inside were several pieces of skimpy lingerie—red, black, and sheer.

They looked jarringly out of place in the professional setting of the hospital locker room.

Seeing me come in, she showed no sign of shame, instead deliberately puffing out her chest.

"Director Forrest, you're always so serious."

Applying her lipstick, she watched me in the mirror. "Men like women who are soft, you know. No wonder Milo says being with you is like being with a corpse."

"He says he feels absolutely nothing when he's with you."

She covered her mouth to stifle a giggle, the malice in her eyes practically overflowing.

I happened to be holding a freshly bought iced Americano.

Extra ice, no sugar.

I walked up to her, looking at her smug face.

I flicked my wrist.

The entire cup of coffee splashed onto her pure-white lace dress.

The brown liquid streamed down her neckline, the ice cubes striking her chest.

"AHHHH—!"

Yara Blanche let out a shriek like a stuck pig and jumped to her feet.

"Jean Forrest! Are you crazy?!"

I tossed the empty cup into the trash and pulled out a paper towel to wipe my hands.

"Feeling more clear-headed now?"

"This is a hospital, a place for saving lives, not a whorehouse for you to peddle your wares."

"If you want to act like a whore, go crawl back to the red-light district."

Yara Blanche trembled with rage, tears instantly streaming down her face.

"How could you insult me like that! I'm going to file a complaint against you!"

The commotion attracted several of our colleagues.

Milo Rhodes, who happened to be at the hospital dropping off some documents, heard the scream and rushed in.

When he saw Yara Blanche's beautiful, tear-streaked face, a firestorm of rage erupted in his mind.

"Jean Forrest! What are you doing!"

Without asking any questions, he rushed forward and shoved me hard.

I never thought he would dare to get physical in public. I lost my footing, and my lower back slammed hard against a metal locker.

A sharp pain shot through me, and I gasped.

Milo Rhodes pointed a finger in my face and roared, "What, are you going through menopause? Why are you taking your anger out on a young girl?!"

"Yara is so delicate! How could you bring yourself to hurt her?"

He took off his jacket, draped it over Yara Blanche, and pulled her protectively into his arms.

Our surrounding colleagues started pointing and murmuring.

"Director Forrest is usually so composed. Why did she get physical today?"

"I know, right? And the young woman looks so pitiful."

Yara Blanche, huddled in Milo Rhodes's arms, sobbed even harder. "I... I just wanted to say hello to Director Forrest, and she..."

The tide of opinion began to turn against me.

I gripped the locker door to pull myself upright, ignoring the searing pain in my back as I stared coldly at the shameless pair.

'Milo Rhodes, with that one push, you just destroyed your last escape route.'