The man’s face flickered with disbelief and anger.

I forced a satisfied smile, hiding the broken nail from my grip, and asked evenly, “Gregory, you slept with her, didn’t you?”

Gregory and I had been campus sweethearts.

Even in school, he was admired—not just for his stellar grades, but for his handsome, aloof face.

Among the highly educated, he stood out; after graduation, he was a figure of success.

In his prime, many beautiful women pursued him.

But he had always seemed chaste, like a saint untouched by temptation, showing warmth only toward me.

Everything suggested he was loyal and devoted.

So when it came to Charlotte, I found it utterly unthinkable.

She was just a plain woman from the countryside, with a son soon entering junior high and a husband working away year-round.

Her education was limited, but she spoke softly. Her face was ordinary, yet her eyes carried a tender light that defied her years.

When we first met, her shyness even tried my patience. She seemed to practice lowering herself to invite sympathy.

If someone had once compared me to her, I’d have thought them mad.

Yet these past few days, I’d been obsessively comparing myself to her, trapped in relentless self-doubt.

And I still couldn’t find an answer.

“Do you even know what you’re saying?” The man’s furious voice broke the silence.

Beside him, Charlotte flushed, her embarrassment plain.

“Ms. Hayes, please don’t be angry. I’ll clean this up and make you another—”

She crouched to gather the shards, pricking her hand on the porcelain.

When blood welled, the man’s calm broke. He stepped forward, grasped her hand, and frowned.

“Leave it. Someone else can clean later. Go bandage that.”

Their hands together were a scene I couldn’t ignore. Without a word, I raised my phone and aimed it at them, framing the shot to include the woman’s plunging neckline.

Click—

Charlotte’s face turned stricken, caught between panic and grievance.

The man’s expression darkened.

“Sylvia, what are you trying to do?”

I posted the photo to my Instagram Moments with the caption: A stylish middle-aged auntie dressed better than me—it’s no wonder her man adores her.

Then I waved my phone at them.

“Nothing. Just sharing my day. That’s allowed, isn’t it?”

For the first time, I saw true gloom cloud Gregory’s face.

He knew who saw my posts—close friends, yes, but also people across my wider circle. As the Hayes family’s eldest daughter, my contacts were anything but ordinary.

“Enough. Delete it and apologize!”

I smirked, ignoring him. “I’ll ask you again—how many times have you slept with her?”

Charlotte suddenly burst into tears, biting her lip, sobbing, “I’m sorry, Miss Hayes…”

Her repeated apologies almost sounded like a confession.

The man’s face grew darker, shielding her behind him.

“Because she’s joined me for a few decent breakfasts, you twist it into this vicious accusation?”

“You’re a woman yourself. Even at her age, she has the right to dress well. Besides—today’s her birthday!”

“Sylvia, you really do have a talent for humiliating people.”

Gregory was a businessman; he knew how to claim moral high ground and make others feel guilty.

But I wasn’t someone who let another person’s words create pointless inner turmoil.

What I couldn’t believe was that he would actually take Charlotte’s side against me.

Like a gambler placing one final bet, I said, “Gregory, I’ll give you one last chance. Tell her to leave, or we get divorced.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes before narrowing into a sharp gaze.

“Are you threatening me?”

The moment the words left his mouth, I knew our marriage was past saving.

A silence fell before his voice cut through it.

“I won’t fire someone who hasn’t done anything wrong.”

That answer told me where he stood.

The hypocrisy in his eyes made my stomach turn.

Without waiting for more, I turned and walked out.

When the car stopped at the hospital, my phone rang. Charlotte’s information from her legal team had arrived.

My instincts told me Gregory wouldn’t develop feelings for a middle-aged woman without reason; something between them must have existed long before.

So I’d asked someone to investigate her.

Sure enough, when I read that she had once been a dorm manager at the men’s dormitory in Arlington University, a chill went through me.

Back then, Gregory and I were envious of the entire campus—he was the only idol who ever showed me patience.

We studied in the library together, worked on projects in coffee shops, explored every good restaurant near campus, and even checked in with each other before bed.

I’d believed no love could be more perfect.

But after five years together, holding this report, I suddenly wondered—did I truly know Gregory?

I searched my memory for details from our college days.

Then I remembered meeting Charlotte during the summer of my junior year.

Because of his excellent grades and family situation, the school allowed him to stay in the dorms during summer break.

One summer day, he’d said he missed me, so I sneaked to his dorm, gift in hand, my heart full of excitement.

I didn’t notice at first that he had just stepped out of the dorm manager’s office. His shirt was rumpled, so I smoothed it for him and teased him, asking if he was surprised.

His cheeks reddened, his gaze intense—I thought it was love.

But then I saw her.

A middle-aged woman stood inside the dim hallway, watching us.

Though I couldn’t read her expression, I frowned.

After a pause, I asked, “Is your dorm manager very strict?”

He brushed it off and changed the topic, and I let the moment go.

Soon after, it was my birthday. I noticed a gold necklace in his online shopping cart—slightly old-fashioned, but expensive for him back then.

The thought moved me to tears.

Yet on my birthday, the gift I received was a simple crystal bracelet.

I never asked what happened to the necklace. I assumed he couldn’t afford it and chose to protect his pride.

But I never imagined that the necklace might have already been given to someone else.

Suddenly, everything fell into place—those odd moments I had ignored now had their answers.

In the company’s early days, the soup that regularly appeared on his desk was never from a private kitchen.

After a three-week business trip, he came home with clothes pristine and smelling faintly of soap—nothing like hotel laundry.

On the night of our wedding, he stepped out to take an unfamiliar call and didn’t return until dawn. Maybe it hadn’t been work at all.

…

A cold shiver ran through me.

The man everyone believed loved me deeply had been deceiving me from the start.

Before the sting of betrayal came the shattering of everything I thought I knew.

The emotions I’d held back for days broke loose. I finally collapsed over the steering wheel, sobbing.

When I’d calmed down, I drove straight to the hospital. The doctor was startled when I requested an abortion—he knew how much I had wanted this child.

I gave no explanation, only a bitter smile. “Just arrange it.”

I will never forget the sensation of life leaving my body.

Eyes shut, tears streamed down my cheeks.

I remembered the day Gregory found out I was pregnant.

It was a bright winter morning. Clutching my report, I had gone to his office and waited outside the conference room.

When the meeting ended, my gaze locked on the tall, composed man at the front. I couldn’t hold back and told him the news right there.

What expression did he wear? I can’t quite recall.

All I remember is that the man, usually calm and restrained, lifted me and spun me twice before all his subordinates.

It had been pure, unguarded joy.

But now? If he knew this child was gone?

A bitter smile curled on my lips.

That night, exhausted and in pain, I lay in bed when his call came.

“You don’t have to attend the charity gala tomorrow night.”

His voice was cold, businesslike.

I suddenly understood—this was his way. He was never cruel, just quietly decisive.

After I embarrassed him and vanished all day, he simply chose to freeze me out. Removing me from the highly anticipated gala was expected.

He hung up before I could say a word.

The next day, I checked the guest list for the gala.

One name stopped me cold—Charlotte.

A surge of emotion hit me.

Forcing myself upright despite the pain, I called the driver.

When I arrived at the grand entrance, crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead.

Gregory stood in the center of attention, and people clustered around him.

At his side was Charlotte, in an elegant gown, her arm linked with his. Her makeup was flawless, her smile practiced.

She had risen from dorm supervisor to a lady standing with startling ease.

And I, in the eyes of the crowd, was the fool.

I sneered and moved to enter.

But the security guard blocked my way.

“Sorry, no entry without an invitation.”

His eyes carried a flicker of disdain.

I glanced down. My clothes from that morning were wrinkled, and I still wore hospital slippers.

I didn’t look like I belonged there.