It was Claudia.

And in her hand was the missing access card.

Richard leapt from the sofa, his face soft with a kind of affection I hadn't seen in years.

Claudia moved through the apartment like it was her own. She didn't even wear the guest slippers—she slipped into my pink silk house slippers, the birthday gift Richard had given me, the ones I had always treasured and rarely worn.

"Richard," Claudia purred, throwing herself straight into Richard's arms.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"My little devil, you're finally here. I missed you so much."

"Oh, I had to put on makeup," she whined, tracing circles on his chest with her finger.

"That boring old hag won't be back for a week. We've got plenty of time. And this week? I'm going to take good care of you, hahaha…"

With that, Richard scooped her up in his arms, laughing, and carried her into my bedroom.

I stared at the phone screen, my nails digging into my palms until they nearly bled.

He really had cheated.

My first instinct was to call him and demand answers. I found his number, my finger hovering over the dial… and then I froze. Shouting at him would only alert them and give them time to cover their tracks. I couldn't let them off that easily.

The next few days dragged on endlessly. My business trip became a torment. By day, I forced myself through work. By night, I locked myself in the hotel room, obsessively watching the surveillance feed.

Claudia had already claimed the apartment as her own. She wore my pajamas. She used my skincare.

She even… used my bed. And my husband.

The most disgusting thing? She stuck her foot into my hundred-dollar body lotion, scooping the cream to rub on her feet.

And Richard? He didn't stop her. He sat there, smiling, massaging her soles.

I ran to the bathroom and vomited. Several times.

Cold water on my face, I stared at my reflection—pale, rigid, and burning with anger.

If they had no shame, then I wouldn't hold back.

I downloaded all the surveillance footage, backed it up to the cloud, and then called my lawyer, Anthony Clooney.

"Anthony, draft a divorce agreement. I want Richard out, with nothing to his name."

After hanging up, I glanced at the calendar. Tomorrow was my birthday. Richard had promised to celebrate it with me. But now, it was clear he had already forgotten.

Fine. Then I'd throw myself a "grand" birthday party.

I compressed my work into five days and booked an early return flight. Then I sent three group messages.

The first went to my parents and in-laws: [Mom, Dad, this Saturday is my birthday. Richard wants to host a gathering at home. You're invited to come and celebrate!]

The second went to Richard's close friends, colleagues, and Claudia's office rivals: [Saturday, 10 a.m., party at Richard's place. Good food, good wine—come join!]

The last went to the property manager: [Saturday morning, I'll be upgrading the home security system. Please have two security staff stationed at the entrance—they may need to help move things.]

Everyone happily agreed.

The next morning, I landed and headed straight home.

The surveillance feed showed them still entangled in bed, whispering and laughing.

Richard brushed her cheek with his hand.

"Baby, wake up. Hungry? I'll order some delivery."

"Mmm… I don't want to move…" she mumbled. "Richard, I want you to cook me noodles."

"Okay, okay, I'll make them."

Richard kissed her cheek, indulgent and soft, and headed to the kitchen.

At 9:50 a.m., the doorbell rang.

Richard was in the kitchen, cooking noodles, when the doorbell rang. He jumped in surprise.

"Who is it?" he called out.

Claudia stirred, annoyed, rolling over in bed.

"Is it the delivery? That was quick."

"I'll go check."

Richard turned off the stove and, wearing only a pair of boxers, went to the door.

He peeked through the peephole—and instantly went pale, as if his soul had fled.

Outside, a crowd of a dozen or more people had gathered, chatting and laughing.

"What… what's going on?! Why are they here?!" His legs went weak, his face drained of color.

"What's wrong, Richard? Who's here?" Claudia asked, rubbing her eyes and stepping out in her robe.

"Quick! Hide!" Richard hissed, shoving her toward the bedroom. "My parents and my friends are here… and a bunch of others!"

"What?!" Claudia sat up, fully awake. "Where… where do I hide?"

"The master bedroom! Lock the door! Don't make a sound!"

He shoved her into the bedroom, too flustered even to clean up the compromising traces in the living room.

The doorbell rang again, more urgently this time.

"Richard? Open the door! Why aren't you answering?" My mother's voice carried clearly.

"Is he still sleeping in?" my mother-in-law added.

Richard's legs buckled. He braced himself against the door and turned to the bedroom, whispering fiercely, "Hurry! Get dressed! Hide!"

Inside the bedroom, chaos ensued.

Richard was drenched in sweat, unsure whether to open the door, when I stepped out of the elevator.

"Dad, Mom, why are you standing out here? Where's Richard? Why won't he open the door?"

Everyone stepped aside when they saw me.

"I don't know… he's dragging his feet," my mother-in-law complained.

I reached for the door and unlocked it with my fingerprint.

Click.

The lock disengaged.

The door opened halfway and Richard barreled into it, blocking my path.

"H-Honey? You're… back?" His voice shook despite his attempt at calm.

"I came back early to give you a surprise!" I said cheerfully, pushing the door harder.

"No… it's just… the place is such a mess! Really messy!" Richard stammered. "Give me ten minutes… no, five! I'll clean up!"

"Clean up? They're family—what's the big deal?"

My mother-in-law, impatient, joined me in pushing the door.

"Exactly, Richard! Don't tell me you're trying to hide wine and cigarettes from us?"

Richard's friends outside jeered in agreement.

One man alone couldn't stand against so many.

The door swung open.

Richard collapsed onto the floor, half-naked, wearing only boxers.

Everyone surged inside.

The living room was a disaster.

Claudia's stockings were draped across the sofa, half-eaten snacks and red wine glasses cluttered the coffee table, and tissues were scattered across the floor. The air was thick with an almost tangible scent of decadence.

"Oh my God! Was the house robbed?!" my mother-in-law exclaimed, frozen in shock.

Richard scrambled to his feet, pale, stammering explanations.

"N-no… it wasn't robbed. Yesterday… I was home alone, drinking… and… didn't have time to clean up."

"Alone? Drinking?" I scoffed, walking to the sofa and picking up a black lace piece of lingerie.

It was the one Claudia had worn yesterday.

Holding the tiny garment up in front of him, I stared at his sweat-drenched, panicked face.

"Honey… you were home alone, drinking, and… wearing this?"