Chapter 8

In the suite, the floor-to-ceiling windows framed a river of neon on both banks of the city. To me, it felt less like lights and more like countless blinking eyes staring in from every direction, making my thoughts a tangled, restless mess.

“Wifey, why the sudden mood swing? Is it because of President Cai?”

Suhang picked up on my mood instantly. I didn’t want to bring up Bai Zifan, so I simply nodded along.

By now, I had already convinced myself that the man I saw wasn’t Bai Zifan at all, just my imagination playing tricks on me.

“She’s just a client to me.” Suhang crouched down so we were eye level, took my hand, and earnestly explained that President Cai was an important client. He really did want to curry favor with her, but it was strictly business-absolutely nothing else. These days, a lot of people at the company looked down on him. If he wanted results, hard work alone wasn’t enough. There were plenty of humbling things he had to swallow and do.

“I was overthinking it. I’m sorry, hubby.” In that moment, I felt like I completely understood him. “I don’t want to turn into a neurotic mess either. I must be a burden to you, huh?”

He chuckled, suddenly cupped my face, and brushed a feather-light kiss against my lips. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“Hubby, let’s have a baby.” I lowered my voice like I was sharing a secret. “I’ve been preparing. I’ve been secretly taking folic acid for a month.”

His eyes lit up in surprise. “Really? That’s great!”

Right as we were wrapped in that sweetness, his phone on the coffee table buzzed.

An unknown email banner flashed across Suhang’s lock screen: “Tonight, your wife…”

“Something came up with work. I need to deal with it.” His expression tensed, and the speed with which he snatched up the phone was unnervingly fast.

I’d caught a vague glimpse of those words, and suspicion prickled in my chest, but I only nodded.

Phone in hand, he strode quickly out onto the balcony. Through the glass, I could see him on a call. His emotions seemed stirred up; he yanked his tie loose in one sharp motion, his hand unconsciously clenching into a fist. In profile he looked like a volcano locked in ice, a cruel, ruthless edge to him I had never seen.

I stared blankly at this unfamiliar version of Suhang. This man who was always gentle and mild as warm jade-who stayed calm as still water even when people insulted him behind his back, or insulted his father-now radiated a suffocating, almost bestial fury.

Yet in less than two minutes, he came back in looking perfectly normal.

“Just a little hiccup at work. It’s taken care of.” His smile was as gentle as ever; only the faint redness at the corners of his eyes gave him away, and the chill in his gaze hadn’t fully faded. “I’m going to grab a quick shower.”

He was clearly trying hard to cover up his emotions, taking his phone with him into the bathroom, which only made my doubts grow stronger.

That strange email wouldn’t leave my mind. As if under a spell, I opened the hotel suite’s computer and used his usual password to log into his email. It went through without a hitch.

Water hissed in the bathroom. Over it, I could hear my own heartbeat thundering.

A system prompt popped up: “New device login verification.” I bit my lip and clicked “Trust this device.”

The inbox was full of work emails. The newest one had already been deleted, but I still went into the trash folder-and found it.

“2025/05/10 23:17
Unknown sender:

You slept with my wife, so I’m going to sleep with your wife. Only then are we even.”

“2025/06/16 04:49

Suhang replied: “Now we’re square, right.”

June 16th? I frantically searched my memory. That should have been the morning I woke up from a hangover and found that unfamiliar button in the bed.

The latest email was from ten minutes ago:

“Tonight, your wife… is mine.”

My mind went blank, like I’d been struck hard in the skull.

Hands shaking, I fumbled for my phone, intending to take a picture. But just as the camera focused on the screen, the page suddenly flipped to the login screen: “Session expired.” After refreshing, the trash folder was completely empty.

At the same time, the bathroom lock clicked.

Obviously, the moment I logged into his email on the computer, it had alerted him.