Chapter 3

The door opened.

Adrian stood in the doorway, backlit by the hall light, his expression hidden in shadow.

But I could feel his gaze like two cold blades, scrutinizing me.

"Margaret?" His voice carried a barely perceptible wariness. "What are you doing here?"

My heart pounded like a drum, but my face wore a perfectly measured smile—as if nothing had happened.

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out an elegant black box.

"I wanted to surprise you."

I opened the box. Inside lay a deep blue silk tie embroidered with subtle patterns—something I'd spent a long time selecting, back when I still believed this marriage was real.

"An anniversary gift." I extended the box toward him, my eyes bright as I gazed at him. "I wanted to sneak it into your study for you to find. I didn't expect you back so soon."

Adrian's expression visibly relaxed.

He took the box, the corner of his mouth lifting into that smile I once thought was full of love. "Thank you, darling. I love it."

"What about you?" I blinked. "Where's my gift?"

Adrian's smile froze for just an instant.

Only an instant, but I caught it.

"The gift..." He reached up to rub the back of his neck—his tell when nervous. "Sorry, darling. I was so busy today, I left it at the office. Tomorrow, I promise I'll—"

"Left it at the office?"

I dropped the smile and took a step back, deliberately letting disappointment and hurt climb onto my brow.

"Adrian, this is our anniversary. First you left dinner halfway through, and now you're telling me you forgot to bring my gift?"

"Margaret, I—"

"Forget it." I cut him off, turning to walk out the door. "It's like this every year. Your patients are more important than me. Your work is more important than me. Everything is more important than me."

"Margaret!"

His footsteps sounded urgently behind me. The next second, a pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

A familiar embrace. A familiar cologne scent—mixed with a hint of roses. Nauseating.

"I'm sorry." His voice sounded in my ear, low and magnetic. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have forgotten something so important."

I didn't speak. My body stayed rigid, not responding to his embrace.

"How about this," he tightened his arms, resting his chin on my shoulder, "there's a private auction tomorrow afternoon. Come with me? Whatever catches your eye, no matter what it is, I'll get it for you. Consider it my apology. Deal?"

An auction.

What a generous promise.

Using my money to buy things I wanted, and I was supposed to be grateful for his magnanimity.

After all, my assets after marriage were legally his too.

But I turned around, letting my expression shift from cold to soft, and reached out to straighten his collar.

"Really?"

"Really." He kissed my forehead. "Anything you want."

What I want is to see you ruined. To see you on your knees begging for mercy. To see you lose everything.

"All right." I raised a sweet smile. "I forgive you."

I would gather evidence. I would strike when the time was right.

Until then, an appropriate show of compliance was a necessary strategy.

……

While Adrian was in the bathroom washing up, I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out my phone, finding a number I hadn't used in years.

It belonged to a private investigator I'd happened to meet through family business before the accident—Leo.

He owed my father a favor, and was known for exceptional skill and absolute discretion.

I quickly sent an encrypted message.

"Leo, it's Margaret. I need you to look into something. A car accident from six years ago, January 13th, Queen's Boulevard. I want to know every detail, including what wasn't in the police report. Also investigate everything about Dr. Adrian Stone and his family. Spare no expense. Top speed. Complete confidentiality. Double your usual fee. Contact this number immediately with any progress."

Message sent.

A few seconds later, a reply came.

"One to two days. I'll have your answers."

I deleted the conversation and placed my phone face-down on the nightstand.

The sound of water in the bathroom stopped.

Adrian emerged wearing only sleep pants, still carrying the steam from his shower.

He walked toward me, sat on the edge of the bed, and reached for my hand.

"Margaret," his voice was soft, solemn, "about adopting a child... have you given it any more thought?"

Adoption.

Noah.

The little boy who'd called me "Scarface Lady." The illegitimate child who needed a "legitimate identity."

I withdrew my hand, my expression turning cold. "I've told you, Adrian. I don't want to adopt."

"But—"

"No buts." I looked him straight in the eye, enunciating each word. "I will not adopt any child. Ever. This discussion is over."

A flash of something sinister crossed Adrian's eyes, quickly masked.

He sighed, reached out to caress my cheek, his thumb tracing lightly over the scar below my left eye.

"Fine," he said, his tone a careful performance of resignation and compromise. "Whatever you say."

I managed a smile but said nothing more.

He thought he still had time to slowly wear me down.

He didn't know I'd already seen through everything.

……

The next afternoon, I was reading in the living room when Adrian walked in.

In his hand was an elegant shopping bag printed with a famous designer's logo.

"For you." He set the bag in front of me. "Anniversary gift. Put it on—we're going to the auction."

I set down my book and opened the bag.

Inside was a dress. White.

Satin fabric, delicate lace at the neckline, a pearl-decorated belt at the waist.

Last night, the woman called Eleanor had worn this exact dress to her "birthday celebration."

Same style. Same color. Possibly the very same dress.

He wanted me to wear the same dress as Eleanor to accompany him to the auction.

Was it to satisfy some perverted fantasy of having both of us? Or to show off his "masterpiece" in front of Eleanor?

Rage rampaged through my chest, nearly breaking through the cage of reason.

But I held it down tight.

I even curved my lips into a surprised, slightly shy smile.

"It's beautiful, Adrian! Let me go try it on right now—"

Before I could finish, my hand "accidentally" slipped.

The dress slid from my grasp and fell straight to the floor—right beside the coffee table.

I crouched down in a fluster to pick it up, but "accidentally" knocked over the coffee cup on the table.

Dark brown liquid instantly splashed across the snow-white dress, blooming into a glaring stain.

"Oh no!" I exclaimed, shaking the dress, letting the coffee that hadn't been absorbed splatter toward Adrian. "I'm so sorry—I was so excited, I couldn't hold on to it..."

I looked up and saw Adrian's face had turned ugly.

Lips pressed into a thin line, the anger in his eyes nearly overflowing.

The fury of losing something precious. Heartache.

He was heartbroken over this dress.

No—perhaps he was heartbroken that something Eleanor had worn was now ruined by me.

"I'm so sorry," I stood up, my expression full of remorse and self-reproach. "This was your gift to me, and I... Don't worry, I'll definitely get it cleaned."

Like burned clean.

"But I definitely can't wear it today."

"Forget it." Adrian squeezed out two words, his voice stiff. "Go change into something else."

I nodded repeatedly, clutching the dress as I hurried toward the bedroom.

The moment the door closed behind me, the expression on my face went cold.

Without hesitation, I walked to the trash bin in the corner, balled it up, and threw it in.

Then, from the depths of my closet, I pulled out a black spaghetti-strap gown I hadn't worn in ages—because Adrian didn't like it.

I thought it would be perfect for today's occasion.