Victoria got into a car accident picking up my car. A fractured tibia. By the time I rushed to the hospital, a young man with eyes swollen red from crying was screaming in my face, his words a relentless tirade. “What right do you have to make Ms. Beaumont get your car? If you weren’t so lazy, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt!” “Do you have any idea she broke her leg? And fractured a rib…” He spoke with an infuriating sense of entitlement, like a manager scolding a delinquent employee. It wasn't just me; Victoria's friends and family, who had come to visit, were all stunned into silence. Victoria shot him a fond, almost doting look before turning to me, her voice soft and placating. “He’s just young, trying to stand up for a client. He’s very direct, don't mind him.” Her heart clearly wasn't with me anymore. So no, I didn't mind. I stared at the boy, my expression a blank mask, waiting calmly until his histrionics ran out of steam. “Are you finished? Good. My turn.” My voice cut through the quiet room. “This is the second time your dealership has made such a critical error. If you don't provide a satisfactory explanation, you can expect to hear from the police and the Quinn family's legal team.” 1 The boy’s face went pale, and his eyes darted to the woman on the bed, pleading for help. Victoria’s expression tightened. “Alexander, it was my mistake. I lost control of the car. It had nothing to do with him. I’ve already handled the accident report.” “You lost control?” I raised an eyebrow, my gaze fixed on her. “What’s the damage?” Victoria coughed. “I’m fine. Just the broken leg and a slight concussion. It’s nothing to—” I cut her off. “I’m asking about the car.” My coldness seemed to physically wound the boy. His voice cracked as it shot up an octave. “Ms. Beaumont is in the hospital, and all you care about is your car? Do you even have a heart?” “You must be Ryan, then?” I said, my voice dangerously soft. I casually slipped my hands into my pockets, my face unreadable. “First, that car is a limited global release valued at over two and a half million dollars.” “Second, Victoria is my wife, in the eyes of the law. Is there a problem with her picking up my car for me?” “And finally…” I paused, my eyes dropping to his hand, which was clutching the fabric of Victoria’s hospital gown. “You’re just a college student she sponsored. On what grounds, exactly, are you standing here interrogating me?” Ryan’s face turned a deep shade of crimson. He instinctively let go of her gown but still tried to defend himself. “I… I’m just worried about Ms. Beaumont!” “You could have gotten the car yourself! You made her go, and now that she’s hurt, you can’t even muster a single word of concern…” I glanced at a text from my assistant that had just come through and let out a cold, humorless laugh. “You should be more worried about yourself.” “The damage assessment is in. Preliminary repair costs are estimated to be upwards of three hundred thousand dollars. Will that be cash or card?” Ryan’s legs gave out from under him. He swayed, staring at me with a mixture of defiance and despair. “Three… three hundred thousand? That’s extortion!” He then looked desperately toward Victoria. “Ms. Beaumont…” Victoria struggled to sit up, hissing in pain as the movement jarred her injuries. “Alexander, he just graduated, he’s just a kid. Where would he get that kind of money? Don’t scare him.” She looked at me, her voice firm. “It was my mistake. I’ll pay for it.” A triumphant smirk flickered across Ryan’s face. I stared at her, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Quite the generous benefactor, aren’t we, Ms. Beaumont? Was gifting him an entire dealership not enough?” Victoria clearly hadn't expected me to know. Her expression froze. Ryan, all his previous bravado gone, bit his lip and mumbled, “Mr. Quinn, if you’re angry, take it out on me. Don’t blame Ms. Beaumont. She only helped me start the business because she felt sorry for me.” Victoria sighed and waved a dismissive hand at him. “This has nothing to do with you. You should go home.” Ryan shuffled toward the door, head down, casting long, lingering glances back at the bed. Just as he reached the doorway, he spun around and rushed back. He pressed a small, delicately carved wooden charm into Victoria’s palm. His eyes, misty with tears, held a look so tender it was practically tangible. No one watching them could believe there was nothing between them. Ryan bit his lip, gave her one last reluctant look, and finally left. As he passed me, he whispered, “Mr. Quinn, it was my fault. The car wasn’t properly inspected before Ms. Beaumont drove it off the lot. That’s why she crashed.” He glanced down at the charm in her hand. “Please don’t misunderstand. I carved that for her myself. I was just hoping it would bring her some luck… ward off any evil.” Not properly inspected? But the dealership had called me specifically to tell me the car was ready for pickup. The last time, when the brakes failed… could that have also been a lack of inspection? 2 “Alexander, I’ve been meaning to tell you about the dealership.” Victoria’s voice pulled me back to the present. We were alone in the room now. A smile played on her lips as she carefully set the wooden charm on her bedside table and reached for my hand. “It was Ryan’s graduation and his birthday, so I got him a gift. That’s all. Surely my big-shot CEO isn't jealous, is he?” She said it so casually, as if she’d given away a cheap toy. I shifted, avoiding her touch. “Is that your type?” The air in the room went still. Victoria’s smile faltered. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn't tell you because I was worried you’d overthink it.” “There is nothing going on between Ryan and me. We’re—” “I don’t care.” My interruption was blunt, indifferent. “I may not have caught you in bed, but I don’t tolerate filth in my life, Victoria. Drop the act. Making a scene would be ugly for everyone.” She looked up at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You don’t believe me?” I met her gaze, my own eyes flat and emotionless. My silence was the only answer she needed. She was about to say more, but her phone buzzed on the nightstand. The name “Ryan” glowed on the screen, a glaring insult. Victoria hesitated before answering. Ryan’s pathetic, whimpering voice immediately filled the silence. “Ms. Beaumont, is Mr. Quinn giving you a hard time? Even if he’s angry, please don’t fight with him, okay?” “I ordered some bone broth from The Gilded Spoon for you. I won’t bring it myself, though. I don’t want Mr. Quinn to get the wrong idea.” Two simple sentences, and he’d managed to play the victim, curry favor, and subtly remind her of their intimacy all at once. I stood motionless. Victoria glanced at my face, then quickly ended the call. A cold smirk touched my lips. I was done with this charade. I turned and walked out of the room. “Alexander!” Victoria called out desperately. “Are you really that angry?” “I promise, I’ll stay away from him. I’ll cut off all contact. Just… please don’t be so cold to me. Please?” Her voice trembled. “My leg hurts…” I turned my head slightly, my voice devoid of any warmth. “If your leg hurts, call a doctor. I have work to do. You get some rest.” Outside the hospital, the crisp night air did little to quell the rage simmering in my gut. I pulled out my phone and called my assistant. “I want you to dig into that kid, Ryan. Everything you can find. I suspect he was involved in my brake failure last time.” After the last service, my brakes had given out on the highway. I’d had to swerve into the median to avoid a catastrophic pile-up. Later that evening, the manager of a luxury watch boutique arrived at my office, sent by Victoria. He presented dozens of obscenely expensive timepieces for me to choose from. “Ms. Beaumont is so devoted to you, Mr. Quinn. A love like that is truly something to be envied.” I glanced over the collection of watches, a bitter irony twisting in my stomach. “You’re mistaken. A man who cheats will spend the night whispering ‘I love you’ to his wife, trying to wash away his own guilt.” I looked the manager in the eye. “Women are no different.” Victoria thought I was just throwing a tantrum. She probably saw me as one of those men who marry up, who, upon discovering their wife’s infidelity, resort to tears and threats before being placated with an expensive gift and a lavish party. She seemed to have forgotten who I was. I am Alexander Quinn. I may not have been born into a corporate dynasty like her, but I built my own empire. At sixteen, I was fast-tracked into a top international university. By twenty-two, I was carving out a name for myself on Wall Street. By twenty-five, I had returned to the country as her direct competitor. We got married not because I couldn't live without her, but because she promised me a lifetime of fidelity—one man, one woman, forever. What a joke. In just five short years, she’d tossed that promise aside like it was nothing. 3 The next day, I received a friend request on my messaging app from Ryan. The note read: Mr. Quinn, I’d like to explain the issue with your car’s service. The day was a blur of back-to-back meetings. That evening, I had to catch a flight back to my hometown for my uncle's—my only living relative's—70th birthday party. I didn't even see the request until I landed. I accepted it. A voice message came through almost instantly. It was Ryan, explaining that the mechanic who worked on my car was a temp who had since stopped showing up for work and was unreachable. I didn't reply. As I swiped back, my thumb accidentally opened his social media profile. His latest post was from half an hour ago. The picture was of Victoria, sitting on the sofa in our villa, sipping soup. In the background, you could clearly see the oil painting I’d paid a fortune for at auction and the custom-made Italian rug. What made my blood run cold was that Ryan was wearing my favorite silk robe and my slippers. He was beaming, squeezed in beside her, holding his phone up for a selfie with one hand while making a peace sign with the other. The caption read: Finally able to take care of you while you’re sick. Even though people misunderstand, the truth will speak for itself. Homemade bone broth to help you heal faster. I screenshotted it and sent it to Victoria. “Living in my house, wearing my clothes, getting cozy with my wife. Is this what you call ‘nothing going on’?!” She replied instantly: Alexander, he spilled soup on his clothes, he’s just borrowing yours for a bit. He was only trying to be nice. Don’t read too much into it. I laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “Trying to be nice?” “Or was making soup just an excuse to play house in my home? What’s the plan, dress up in my clothes and hope you can just replace me?” Could you stop being so cynical? her tone shifted. You’re never around. He came here specifically to take care of me. Can’t you show a little grace? You weren’t like this before, Alexander. When did you become so overbearing, so ruthless? I stared at the screen and laughed until it hurt. Overbearing? Ruthless? When the Beaumont Corporation’s funding dried up, it was my “overbearing” leadership that pushed my team through a month of sleepless nights to secure the critical investment that saved her company. When her father was gravely ill, it was “ruthless” me who dropped a multi-million-dollar acquisition and sat by his hospital bed for two weeks. She used to say she admired my decisiveness, my killer instinct in the boardroom. But now that she had her gentle, considerate little angel by her side, I was suddenly just cynical and harsh. My uncle insisted I stay an extra day, so it wasn't until the third morning that I took the earliest flight home. The digital lock hadn't been changed, but my fingerprint had been deleted. I stood on my own doorstep and rang the bell. The man who opened the door was Ryan. This time, he was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of loose-fitting athletic shorts. His hair was wet, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. “Mr. Quinn?” he asked, feigning surprise. “What are you doing back? Ms. Beaumont is still asleep…” I cut him off. “This is my house. Do I need an invitation?” “Get out of my way.” “That’s not what I meant,” he said, stubbornly blocking the doorway. “But Ms. Beaumont is resting, and you seem like you’re in a bad mood. I don’t want you to disturb her…” I’d had enough. I shoved him aside. “Get lost.” The noise woke Victoria. She emerged from the bedroom, leaning on a crutch. Seeing the tense standoff, she frowned. “What’s going on?” 4 Before Ryan could even speak, tears started streaming down his face. “Ms. Beaumont, I’m so sorry. You were so exhausted last night, I just wanted you to get some more sleep. I didn’t mean to offend Mr. Quinn.” He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand and turned his face, like a little white rabbit that had been horribly bullied. The tips of his ears, however, were bright red. Victoria coughed twice, then looked at me. “Alexander, you’ve completely misunderstood. Apologize to him.” I ignored her and sat down on the sofa. My eyes scanned the room and landed on the display shelf. The silver frame holding my wedding photo with Victoria was gone. In its place sat the hand-carved wooden charm from Ryan, now displayed proudly on a polished mahogany stand. On the coffee table, a pair of men's underwear—not mine—lay discarded. “No wonder you tried to stop me at the door. You two certainly know how to have a good time, don't you?” Ryan scrambled to pick up the underwear, his voice choked with tears. “These are mine! I washed them! They were just drying here…” “Drying? In the living room?” I sneered. “Victoria has a broken leg. Tell me, just who was servicing whom? Was it comfortable?” Ryan’s face flushed a violent shade of red. He stammered, “Mr. Quinn, you… you’ve got it all wrong. Me and Ms. Beaumont… we didn’t do anything.” “That’s enough!” Victoria snapped, glaring at me. “Alexander, do you have to be so vulgar? Do you enjoy humiliating him?” “He’s just an innocent young man, not like you, with your mind full of schemes!” I looked up at her. “And what, exactly, have I been scheming?” “You’ve been scheming how to embarrass him, how to ruin his reputation! How to make me bend to your will, so I’ll only ever have eyes for you!” Victoria’s voice rose with every word. “Yes, I let him stay here! But nothing happened between us!” “He was taking care of me, and I was grateful. It’s that simple! Why do you have to assume the absolute worst of people?” “Whether people are good or bad doesn’t interest me,” I said, pulling a folder from my briefcase. “But this does.” “Six months ago, you used Beaumont corporate funds and resources to set him up with a dealership. An investment of two million dollars, which you filed under ‘charitable donation’.” “Did you get board approval for that, Victoria? Misappropriating company funds to keep a lover on the side. How does that sound as a criminal charge?” Victoria’s face went ashen. “You investigated me? He’s not my lover!” “Then what is he?” I stood up and walked over to Ryan. “Mr. Park, why don’t you tell us? What are you?” Ryan bit his lip. “I… I just admire Ms. Beaumont. I was grateful for her help, so I came to look after her for a couple of days…” “Admire her enough to wear my clothes and sleep in my bed?” I gestured toward the master bedroom, where the door was slightly ajar. “I saw you both come out of my bedroom, Victoria. How do you explain that?” She gritted her teeth. “Believe it or not, Ryan slept on the floor so he could be close by to help me. We did nothing!” “I don’t care if you slept together or not.”
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