To attract more potential customers, my wife decided to join the cycling community.

During the two months I was away on a business trip, she posted new cycling routes every single day on the map and became a well-known cycling socialite in the local scene.

A neighbor suddenly sent me a video. The location tag pointed straight to my backyard.

[Dude, your wife is something else. Already found herself a riding partner? Looks like the bike’s not the only thing getting ridden.]

In the video, an unfamiliar lace panties hung on the handlebars of the bicycle.

The lush grass swayed rhythmically, with an undulating figure occasionally peeking from behind it.

I dialed her number.

“What are you doing?”

She squealed, “I’m out for a ride, honey. I’ve been landing a lot of high-quality clients lately. I’m working really hard to make money!”

“Oh?” I smiled. “With your body?”

I tightened my grip on the phone and enunciated each word, “It’s pretty dark in the backyard. Want me to turn on the lights for the two of you?

The faint breathy sounds from behind the bushes pierced my ears.

“Mmm… So naughty…”

The man chuckled. “Naughty? Am I not just taking good care of you?”

“It’s pretty dark out there. Want me to turn on the lights for the two of you?”

Silence slammed down over the entire backyard. The bushes stopped swaying and the moving figures vanished.

A sickening, cloying stench filled the air.

A few seconds later, a man jumped out from behind the bushes in nothing but his boxer shorts.

I recognized him.

One of those notorious playboys of Jori’s elite circles, the kind who got his way thanks to his family.

“Who the hell are you? Can’t you see we’re busy?”

The man was impatient. He looked at me from head to toe, chin raised, and arrogance dripping from every inch of him.

When his eyes landed on my worn, sallow face, the contempt wasn’t even hidden.

I ignored him and walked straight toward the bushes.

There she was, frantically pulling her clothes back on.

The woman I had sworn to love for the rest of my life, my wife, Ysabel Walter.

Her hair was a mess, and her cheeks still flushed.

The designer heels I’d bought her were tossed aside like garbage. Her clothes were in disarray, baring a glimpse of those unfamiliar lace panties.

“Ysabel, come out here and explain.”

My voice was unusually cold.

Her face was drained of color. Her hands trembled as she straightened her clothes, standing up slowly from the bushes and unable to meet my gaze.

Lawrence suddenly pulled her into his arms, rough and possessive.

“Oh. Here I thought it was some clueless idiot. It turns out to be the useless pet Ysabel keeps around.”

His fingers brushed over her lips as a mocking smile curled at the corners of his mouth.

“What? You here to pick a fight?

“I’m Ysabel’s new cycling buddy. One-on-one coaching, free of charge. I’m helping her practice riding. Got a problem with that?”

My fists tightened, rage burning through my chest.

“Coaching? Does coaching involve exploring the mysteries of the body up close in the backyard?”

Ysabel snapped her head up, finally daring to meet my gaze.

There was not a shred of remorse in her eyes, only the flustered anger of someone caught red-handed.

“What nonsense are you spouting? Lawrence and I were just having a normal conversation between cycling buddies. Don’t make a scene here!”

She lunged forward and clamped her fingers tightly around my arm, her nails digging in hard.

I wrenched her hand away and seized her wrist instead.

“I’m making a scene?” I laughed bitterly.

“Ysabel, I’ve never stopped you from building your career. You said you’d be prospecting for clients, so this is how you do it?

“All those cycling routes you update every day, are they just a map of where you two hook up?”

Ysabel was rendered speechless, her face crimson. She tried to break free from my grip, but she couldn’t shake me off no matter how hard she struggled.

“Let me go!” she screamed.

“Who do you think you are? You’re just a useless freeloader, good for nothing, and you dare to boss me around?”

Her words hit like shards of ice, leaving my heart aching with pain and desolation.

“I had Lawrence teach me proper riding etiquette so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself in front of others!

“And you? Besides worrying about your pathetic little logistics company, what can you even do?

“Lawrence is a hundred, no, a thousand times better than you! Whatever I want, he gives it to me on a silver platter. Can you?”

She picked up the heels from the ground and hurled them at me with all her might.

“Take a good look at yourself! Without me, you wouldn’t even have a chance in hell! If you’re so tough, go act tough outside. Stop playing king at home!

“I don’t give a damn about a pair of old shoes. Lawrence can give me better!

“If you’re so capable, go sell these shoes. And use the money to see a psychiatrist, get yourself checked out. Stop clinging to me like a psycho all day. You may have no shame, but I do!”

Lawrence burst out laughing.

He wrapped his arm around Ysabel’s shoulder, looking at me like he’d already won.

“You piece of trash, you hear that? Ysa doesn’t want you anymore.”

He leaned down and deliberately left a bright red mark on Ysabel’s neck.

Then, like a declaration of ownership, he took her and walked out of the backyard.

I stood there dumbfounded, still clutching those two high heels in my hand. I was nothing but a complete joke!

My phone buzzed. It was an unknown number.

I opened the message. It was from Lawrence.

A dozen photos of him and Ysabel passionately kissing, with a message beneath, [Ysa said, even though you’re together every night, you can’t even stir her desire. Trash like you isn’t even worth my toes.

[Oh, and by the way, Ysa was way wilder under me than she ever was with you.]

I deleted the messages.

Then, I tossed the high heels into the trash can before I turned to head home.

Just as I reached the front door, I heard voices from inside.

My heart sank as I pressed my finger against the fingerprint scanner.

Beep—

“Fingerprint recognition failed.”

I tried again but I got the same result.

The people inside heard the noise and opened the door. Lawrence stood there, arms crossed and looking down at me with a crooked smirk.

“Persistent little trash, aren’t you? What now? If you’re done making a scene, get lost. Don’t ruin my time with Ysa.”

Fighting back my rage, I glared at him. “This is my house. You’re the ones who should leave.”

Lawrence laughed as if I’d just told the best joke of his life. “Your house? And you can’t even get in? Don’t be ridiculous!

“Ysa was kind enough to let you crash here for a while, and you got the nerve to take advantage of her.”

He pulled out the property deed and flipped it open right in front of me.

It read, [Owners: Ysabel Walter, Lawrence Yelm.]

“Open your damn eyes and see clearly. This apartment belongs to Ysa and me!”

He slapped my face with the deed, eyes brimming with contempt.

“If you don’t leave now, I’ll report you for trespassing!”

I couldn’t believe any of this was happening. I had bought this spacious apartment with every cent I earned in the first year of building my business.

Back then, Ysabel had said that as a woman, she needed a sense of security, and only felt loved if the property was in her name.

I loved her with all my heart and cared deeply for her, so I agreed without hesitation.

I thought it was a testament to our love, but I never imagined it would become a weapon she’d use to betray and humiliate me.

Lawrence suddenly stepped forward and shoved me hard in the shoulder.

Before I could react, the back of my head slammed into the wall behind.

“Who do you think you are to lay a hand on me? This is my house!” I shouted.

“Your house?” he sneered. “It’s written in black and white. What the hell does this house have to do with you?”

That was it. I clenched my fist and swung it at him.

But before it could land, I heard a shrill female voice while my fist was in mid-air.

“Stop it! What are you doing?!”

Ysabel screamed as she came running.

I watched helplessly as she rushed to Lawrence’s side, nervously checking him over from head to toe.

“Lawrence, are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

That concerned tone made it sound as if Lawrence were the victim, the one who’d been wronged.

He took the opportunity to lean into her, playing it up, “My mouth hurts. The moment he saw me, he went crazy. Barged in and started hitting me.”

Ysabel immediately turned to me with her ice-cold stare, like laced with poison.

“Quintus Gill! Haven’t you made enough of a scene?

“You won’t stop until you’ve made a complete spectacle of yourself, will you?”

I looked at her, my heart twisted.

“Ysabel, this is our home since we got married. Have you forgotten?

“You said we’d live here forever. That we’d have a son and a daughter. You said you’d—”

“Our home?” She suddenly burst out laughing, sharp and mocking.

“Quintus Gill, I’ve wanted to leave you for a long time. Let’s get a divorce!”

My head buzzed, then went completely blank.

“Ten years… and you could just walk away?”

She stared at me like I was a complete stranger.

“Yes, I’m done!

“Why on earth would I entrust my whole life to a penniless bum like you!”

Every word hit like a sledgehammer, crushing the last bit of hope inside me.

Lawrence stepped in smoothly, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

“Quintus, take a good look at yourself. Stay with you, Ysa gets nothing but a hard life. Stay with me and she’ll live a life of luxury and privilege.”

He strode over, grabbed a chair nearby, and smashed it at me.

“You piece of trash, get out of here!”

I wiped my forehead and my palm was stained with blood.

Several security guards suddenly rushed in and pinned me to the ground.

I struggled fiercely, but I couldn’t break free from their restraint.

“Perfect timing. This man is trespassing. Drag him out now!” Lawrence ordered arrogantly.

The guards wasted no time. They pulled out their batons and brought them down hard on my back.

Lawrence leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Your wife gets incredibly sensitive at the slightest touch. Wild as hell.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a guard raised his foot and kicked me hard in the head.

My vision went dark from the intense pain, and a strong, metallic smell filled my nose.

They hauled me up by the arms and dragged me out like a dead animal.

Still not satisfied, Lawrence caught up and ground his foot into my fingers while keeping up with his curses, “With your pathetic, penniless look, you still think you deserve Ysa? Go take a p*ss and look at yourself in the mirror, eh?”

Ysabel stood to the side, watching coldly as if I were nothing to her.

Something in me died completely.

A decade of love and devotion vanished into thin air at that moment. Not even a trace of warmth left.

As if remembering something, Lawrence yanked his foot back and turned to go back inside.

When he came out again, he was holding a black urn. It contained my mother’s ashes!

My vision shrank sharply and my blood ran cold.

“Lawrence Yelm! Give me back the ashes!” I screamed, my voice trembling uncontrollably.

He glanced down at the urn and a twisted smile spread across his face.

“Give it back? Sure. But you’d better… catch it.”

Before he even finished speaking, he let go.

Crash.

The urn hit the floor and shattered into pieces.

My mother’s ashes were scattered everywhere.

How dare he!

My eyes turned bloodshot as I glared at him, my throat raging, “You—!”

Before words could leave my mouth, Ysabel’s icy voice cut me off, “Why is it taking this long to drag someone out?”

And here I thought she might at least show a shred of compassion, but her words were like poison-tipped spikes, piercing through my heart.

She knew better than anyone what my mother meant to me.

She knew full well that the urn was the only way I could still feel close to my mother.

Yet she allowed Lawrence to barge into the room where my mother’s ashes were kept, letting him ruin it.

Ysabel pulled off the ring on her ring finger and hurled it at my face as though discarding garbage.

“Take your junk and get out!”

Even a ring worth over a hundred million meant nothing to her.

Her voice held no warmth. Only bone-chilling contempt.

“Quintus, stop clinging to me like a leech. It makes me sick.”

I lay sprawled on the cold floor, like a pitiful stray animal.

Their arrogant, shrill laughter came in waves, crashing against my ears.

The unbearable mockery and whispers tore apart what little dignity I had left.

Humiliation and rage surged through me, crashing violently inside my chest.

With bloodied fingers, I scrolled through my contacts to a number without a name.

I dialed it.

“I, Quintus Gill, have decided to immediately terminate all cooperation between Bluebell Group and the Yelms, no matter the cost!”