David took me out for steaks and whiskey. It felt off. David has a sensitive stomach; he’s always adhered to a bland diet. He won’t touch anything spicy, even when I cook it. Since when did he crave heavy, greasy restaurant food? Seeing my hesitation, he gave a soft chuckle. "Occasionally, it's good to change things up." … 1 "Welcome, right this way, please." The hostess was young, clean-cut, with a voice like honey. David recognized her instantly. "Amber? What are you doing working here?" The moment Amber Hartley saw David Sterling, a flash of surprise rushed through her eyes. Then she looked down, fidgeting nervously with the hem of her apron. "I needed a part-time job to help with tuition." "Dr. Sterling, what a coincidence. You still love the ribeyes here, I see." Amber, the new intern at David’s hospital, spoke casually as she deftly set the table. "Since you brought Mrs. Sterling today, I’ll have the kitchen send out a few complimentary appetizers. On me." My heart sank. David didn’t love ribeyes. In fact, he despised restaurant food, viewing it all as unhealthy garbage. I managed every aspect of his diet and daily life. As the Chief of Cardiac Surgery, he suffered from ulcers and maintained almost obsessive eating habits. Low sodium, low fat, zero soda—even red meat was restricted to less than twice a week. But now, he just gave a curt nod. "That’s very kind of you." Amber insisted on staying to serve us personally. She held the tongs, expertly flipping the steaks on the sizzling grill. The grease popped. Amber carved the ribeye and NY strip, placing the best pieces onto David’s plate, one by one. "Dr. Sterling, you work so hard in surgery every day, you need the protein. These cuts are the finest on the animal." Then she glanced at me, a hint of disdain flashing in her eyes. David set down his fork, naturally swapping my empty plate with his full one. He looked at me with an indulgent smile. "Eat up, honey. You look like you’ve lost weight recently." 2 "Alright, you can go now. We’d like some privacy." When Amber withdrew, her eyes were practically screaming. But every one of David’s subtle movements felt like he was overcompensating, trying to hide something. If they didn't eat here privately all the time, how would Amber know what he "loved" to eat? If they didn't spend a lot of time together, how would she dare to act so relaxed and flirty in front of the Chief? Halfway through the meal, the lights in the booth suddenly dimmed. A waiter wheeled in a massive, three-tiered strawberry mousse cake, followed by another waiter holding 999 deep-red roses. "Happy Valentine's Day, Clara." David stood behind the massive bouquet, the candlelight reflecting off his handsome face. "Thank you for everything this past year. I know taking care of Leo is exhausting. Once this busy season at the hospital is over, I’ll take a long vacation so we can go to the Maldives." The surrounding diners turned to look, gasping in envy. Amber stood in the shadows of the hallway nearby, staring deathly at the roses, her grip on her serving tray so tight it was bending. I accepted the flowers, smiling gracefully. "Thank you, David." As soon as the waiters left, Amber rushed back over. "Mrs. Sterling is so lucky. A man like Dr. Sterling is one in a million. But I suppose it makes sense—Mrs. Sterling only needs to arrange flowers and raise the child at home, while Dr. Sterling is out there killing himself to support the family. It must be nice; some of us are just born to toil, not rely on a man." I set down my fork, slowly wiped my mouth with a napkin, and looked at her. "Miss Hartley, I recorded what you just said." She froze, her face turning pale. "First, as a server here, making offensive remarks to guests is a serious issue of professionalism. Second, as David Sterling’s student, commenting on your mentor’s family matters is an issue of breeding." I looked toward the front desk. "Please call your manager over. I want to file a complaint." Amber panicked, instinctively grabbing David’s sleeve. "Dr. Sterling, I didn’t mean it like that… I was just… just worried that you were pushing yourself too hard..." David looked at her, and a flicker of internal struggle flashed through his otherwise stern eyes. He finally sighed in resignation, turned to me, and said, "Clara, she’s still young, she hasn't been out in the real world yet. She doesn't know how to measure her words. I’ll discipline her back at the hospital." "You are her mentor’s wife, after all. Be the bigger person. Don't bicker with a young girl, okay?" "Her family is poor; that’s why she’s working part-time here." I almost laughed in frustration. Because her family is poor, she has to become a homewrecking brat? Because she is poor, I’m supposed to endure her? But David didn't care. He cut me off before I could speak: "It’s a holiday. My wife isn't that petty. Let it go." David practically dragged me away to leave. In the shadows, Amber quietly reached out her hand and quickly brushed it against the back of his hand. And David did not flinch. He not only didn't flinch, but he also took advantage of the darkness to briefly hold her hand in return. My stomach churned. He was wrong. I am that petty. A man is like a toothbrush—I do not share. 3 From that day on, David never brought up Amber Hartley again. He performed the role of the model husband perfectly: coming home on time, helping our son with homework, handing over his paycheck, and even letting me scroll through his phone whenever I wanted. Three months later, David pushed open the bedroom door looking utterly exhausted. He sat on the edge of the bed, hesitating. "What's wrong?" I asked, closing my book. "Clara… there’s something I need to discuss with you." He rubbed his temples. "Amber Hartley was fired from the hospital." I raised an eyebrow. "Why?" "They claim… she violated operating procedures, leading to a minor medical malpractice issue. But I know it’s because people in the department are pushing her out. She’s too blunt and offended the wrong person." David sighed heavily. "Her family is buried in debt, and her landlord just kicked her out. A young girl wandering the streets in the middle of the night… I almost hit her driving back just now. I can't just leave her out there." My heart sank, bit by bit. "So?" "I was thinking, isn't our guest room empty? Let her stay for a little while, just until she finds a new job or saves enough for a deposit. Do this as a favor to me, okay?" David walked over, took my hand, his eyes full of pleading. "She was my student, after all. If something really happened to her, I wouldn't be able to live with myself." Live with himself? More like he was heartbroken for her. I sighed helplessly. "Since you’ve already put it that way, what can I say? But I have one condition: we must set ground rules. This cannot affect Leo." "Absolutely! Clara, you are the best." David hugged me, visibly relieved. That night, Amber Hartley walked through the door dragging a battered suitcase. She acted very industrious, scrambling to do chores, bowing and scraping before me. But I had already installed the most hidden pinhole cameras in the living room, dining room, and even on the bookshelf in our bedroom. After installing the cameras, I made an excuse to take our son Leo to stay at my mother’s place for a few days. Before I left, David kissed my forehead tenderly, telling me to drive carefully. Sitting on the sofa at my mother's house, I opened the real-time monitoring app on my phone. David came home from work. Amber was wearing a silk nightgown that barely covered her thighs, with no bra underneath. She paced around the living room, holding a glass of red wine. The moment David walked in the door, Amber wrapped herself around him. "Dr. Sterling, you're finally back. Mrs. Sterling isn't home, and this house is terrifyingly cold." David pushed her slightly. "Amber, don't be like this." Amber's voice came through the speaker. "Dr. Sterling, you've eaten so many steaks with me. I don't believe you've never felt anything. You clearly love me. Why stay with that woman who only knows how to stay home and raise a child?" "She does it for this family…" David’s defense was pathetic and weak. "She does it for the money!" Amber ripped off David’s tie, lifting her face to kiss his neck. "If you didn't have your current status, would she willingly stay at home? Only I… I truly admire you, Professor… Take me…" David’s hand ultimately settled on her waist. They engaged in intimacy all the way from the sofa to our master bedroom bed. On the silk sheets I had meticulously selected, they freely vented their desires. David’s voice panted, with a wildness I had never heard before: "Amber… you are so much more flavorful…" I shut off my phone, my fingertips ice cold. David Sterling, since you’ve chosen this path, prepare to leave this marriage with nothing. 4 Upon my return, I acted as if everything were normal, cooking for David and allowing Amber to continue living in the house. Amber grew increasingly arrogant. While doing laundry, she even deliberately washed her underwear mixed together with David’s shirts. I turned a blind eye to all of it. I started visiting financial planners and law firms. Using the excuse of establishing an education fund for our son, I leveraged David’s trust in me to coax him into signing complex English contracts and power-of-attorney forms, one after another. He was so immersed in the illusory pleasure Amber provided that he didn't even glance at the contents. "Honey, these are a few dividend agreements from our insurance company. Signing them will double next year’s returns." "Honey, I want to transfer this property to my mother’s name. Just in case the hospital faces any lawsuits, we’ll have a backup." David was texting Amber on WhatsApp while carelessly scribbling his signature. "Sure, I trust you to handle it." He smiled and kissed me. "Clara, you really are my capable right hand." Yes, of course I am your capable right hand. I am going to help unload all of your money. I uncovered all of David’s private accounts. Through gift deeds, the assets under my name were quietly expanding. While the numbers in David’s accounts outwardly remained unchanged, in reality, the usage rights to that money had already quietly shifted to my control through the various trust guarantees he had signed. It was Valentine's Day again. David had a massive headache recently. Amber Hartley was no longer satisfied with just providing emotional connection. She was demanding a Hermes Birkin as a Valentine's gift. David could only agree. He slipped away into his study to call the sales associate: "Yes, I’ll be over on Valentine's Day to pick it up. Charge my private card." What he didn't know was that without my consent, not a single penny could be withdrawn from that card. 5 Valentine's Day. David woke up even earlier than usual. He stood before the mirror meticulously styling his hair and even put on cologne. "There’s an important academic conference today. I might be back late tonight." He said to me while tying his tie, his eyes shifting slightly. I was peeling a boiled egg for our son Leo, not lifting my head. "What about tonight? Didn’t we agree to have dinner together?" "Of course! I will definitely be back to spend the holiday with you." He walked over, placing a light kiss on my forehead. "I booked a table at that French restaurant you love. 7:00 PM, sharp. I’ll be there." Lies. All lies. I glanced at the corner of the living room, where Amber Hartley was pretending to wipe down a table, but her ears were perked up high. "Okay. I’ll wait for you." After David left, I opened my mobile banking app, entered the password, and clicked to freeze his accounts. You didn't seriously think I would allow you to use marital assets to curry favor with your mistress? I called my son room: "Leo, how would you like to go play at Grandma's house today?" "Yay!" My seven-year-old son jumped up in excitement. "Will Grandma make me a cake?" "Yes, and she’ll take you to the playground." After arranging everything, I took my son and went out. In the car, I dialed a number: "Counselor, you may begin." "Are you certain, Mrs. Sterling? Once this starts, there is no turning back." "I am certain." Meanwhile, David and Amber walked side-by-side into the Hermes boutique. Amber wore a white dress today, with meticulous makeup, looking pure and enchanting. "Dr. Sterling, I really, really love that bag." She clung to David’s arm, her voice sticky. "My colleague’s boyfriend got her one, and she flaunts it in front of me every single day." David patted her hand. "Buying it for you today. You won't need to envy anyone else after this." The sales associate greeted them warmly: "Mr. Sterling, the bag you ordered is ready. Please come this way." Amber's eyes lit up, practically gluing themselves to the expensive leather goods in the display cases. The associate retrieved a gift box, carefully opening it. The silver hardware sparkled under the lights. "That's it!" Amber excitedly grabbed David’s arm. David pulled out his wallet, took out his black credit card, and handed it to the associate. The associate ran the card, her brows furrowing slightly: "Mr. Sterling, this card is not processing. It says transaction restricted." "How is that possible?" David froze for a moment. "Is something wrong with the machine? Try again." The associate tried again, with the same result. Other customers nearby were already casting glances their way. Amber's face began to flush red. "Use this one." David produced a debit card. Same result. A third card, a fourth... David tried every card in his wallet; none of them worked. The associate's expression shifted from warm to awkward. "Mr. Sterling, perhaps there’s some issue with your accounts. I suggest you contact your bank." Amber released David’s arm, taking a step back: "Dr. Sterling, what is this supposed to mean? You promised me!" "Amber, don't worry. There must be some misunderstanding." Beads of sweat began to appear on David’s forehead. He pulled out his phone. "We’re sorry, the line you are calling is busy..." It was a busy signal, several times in a row. David attempted to log into his mobile banking, but it displayed an incorrect password. Only then did he remember that I set all the bank card passwords; he usually never concerned himself with these details. Amber’s expression grew uglier by the second. She looked around, feeling like everyone was laughing at her. A young girl passed by her, tossing out a quiet remark: "If you can't afford it, don't come in acting high-class." "David Sterling!" she shouted his full name. "Are you playing me? Saying you love me, that you want to give me the best, yet you can't even produce twenty thousand dollars? Do you know how much I bragged to my friends? How am I supposed to face anyone now?" "Amber, let me explain..." "Explain what? Explain how your wife controls you so completely you can't even use a card?" Amber’s voice grew louder. "I thought you were a successful man. Turns out you're just a kept man!" A crowd was gathering, pointing and whispering. David’s face flushed bright red. He grabbed Amber’s arm: "Let’s take this outside." "Let go of me!" Amber violently shook him off. "I must have been blind. I was fired from the hospital for you, I gave up everything for you, and for what? You're just a liar!" She turned and rushed out of the store. David hurriedly chased after her, leaving the associate and a group of spectating customers staring at each other. Outside the mall, Amber had already hailed a taxi. David ran over and grabbed the car door: "Amber, don't be like this. I swear I will solve this. I will absolutely buy you the bag tomorrow!" "Don't touch me!" Amber's eyes were filled with resentment. "David Sterling, let me tell you, this isn't over!" The taxi sped away. David stood in place, his suit in disarray, his tie crooked. The house was empty. On the dining table was a note: "Took Leo to my mom’s house. See you at the restaurant at 7:00 PM." He breathed a sigh of relief, took a shower, changed into a clean suit, and practiced smiling in the mirror. At exactly 7:00 PM, David appeared sharply at the French restaurant. I was already waiting for him at a window table. "Honey, you look beautiful today." I looked up at him with a faint smile: "Is the money in your cards still usable?"
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