I caught Ethan talking softly on the phone late one night. His voice was intimate, laced with a tenderness I’d never known. “Sleep tight, honey. Don’t cry. I’ll be there as soon as I wrap up.” He refused to divorce me, choosing instead to torture me with his infidelity. What for? I decided to turn up the heat. I found my old college friend, Ryan, to play the part of my own ‘fling.’ We made sure to be seen in the areas where Ethan frequented. I figured, with both of us cheating, and the marriage already this rotten, he’d finally agree to a divorce. 1 It was four in the morning. I was heading downstairs for a glass of water when I heard Ethan on the balcony, his voice deliberately low. In the dead of night, his deep, tender whispers pierced the darkness. “Sleep tight, honey. Don’t cry. I’ll be there as soon as I wrap up.” A sharp pang of pain hit my chest, and my drowsiness vanished instantly. I quickly ducked down, hiding behind the stair railing. I heard him lock his phone, walk back into the master bedroom, and close the door. Only then did I exhale, concluding— He was cheating. They say when a man cheats, his wife is often divinely inspired—running into him at the most coincidental, yet inevitable, moment. Look at me: I just happened to get thirsty at this exact hour; the water in my room just happened to be gone; and I just happened to run into him making that call. If that’s not divine intervention, I don’t know what is. Ethan is nine years older than me. Back then, my dad’s company was facing bankruptcy and desperately needed cash flow. Ethan generously invested three hundred million dollars, pulling my dad out of a tight spot. Dad knew Ethan didn't do business for charity, so he asked what return Ethan wanted. Ethan leaned back on the leather sofa, just smiling at my father. After several proposed payback plans were turned down, Dad thought of trading his daughter. “My daughter, Chloe, is gentle and beautiful. A fortune teller once said she's a home-blessing, husband-prospering charm. Might Mr. Grant need a wife?” Ethan stopped smiling and said solemnly, “Then I’ll leave it to you, Dad.” I was nineteen, a freshman in college. Dad persuaded me, “Mr. Grant is handsome, steady, and sharp. You won’t lose out marrying him, Chloe.” A year later, Ethan and I were married. On our wedding day, I overheard his staff gossiping. They said he had a ‘one that got away,’ a first love, but since she was married, he just settled for someone else. After the wedding, I moved into Ethan’s secluded villa in the Lakeside district. For three years, I lived upstairs, and he lived downstairs. We were like neighbors, like roommates, but not like husband and wife. He was always busy. I could count the number of times we ate together on one hand. In the corporate world, he was a jack-of-all-trades: cool-headed, decisive, with impeccable foresight and sharp execution. Headlines were always showing his photos, where he looked handsome, composed, and controlled. To promote a new line of men’s clothing, he even did a personal photoshoot on the green campus of State University, where I was studying. Nearing forty, he stood quietly under the trees, blending maturity and youth, holding a perfect balance between restraint and flair. The photos caused a stir at State U. Those pictures moved my heart, too. But so what? He didn't love me. He hadn't touched me in three years. I was in the prime of my youth, watching my classmates cuddling and being mushy with their boyfriends. I felt a sudden sense of loss, like my spring was being nipped in the bud. The culprit was Ethan, who gambled my whole life away for some ridiculous payback. I'd brought up divorce before, two or three times every year. The first year, he replied, “Your father’s company is still shaky. Pulling out the investment now... have you thought this through?” The second year, when Dad’s company started turning a steady profit, I brought it up again. He replied, “Mrs. Grant, a marriage license isn’t a joke. It’s a lifelong commitment. Think about it some more.” The third year, he said, “It seems you haven’t made up your mind. You need to keep considering it.” It was always the cold, clinical ‘consideration,’ mixed up with family interests. To be fair, I hadn't had a solid reason, and he had helped my family. But now it was different. He was cheating. I felt a little sad, but secretly, a little thrilled. 2 I reached out to Ryan Carter, a guy I’d recently met in a college leadership program. Ryan was sunny, handsome, the Student Body President, and a part-time race car driver. I heard he was every girl’s dream guy on campus. Once, I saw him working at a convenience store, realizing he was short on cash, so I proposed a deal. “You just need to pretend to be my boyfriend. Three thousand dollars per meeting, paid in cash. What do you say?” Ryan frowned, looking confused. “Isn’t your husband good to you? Why go through all this to get a divorce?” I didn't want to explain, just said, “Can you handle this, Ryan? It’s a bit tricky. My husband has some serious connections, and there might be some personal danger.” Ryan gave a slight smile. “I’m only worried about your reputation, Chloe.” “You don’t have to worry. My husband is cheating, too. If he dares expose my secret, I’ll expose his. I have nothing to lose.” Ryan looked momentarily speechless, probably intimidated by the adult world. But after a moment, he took the job with interest. “Alright, I’m in.” My second step was hiring a private investigator to look into Ethan. The results came back quickly. Ethan’s ‘one that got away’ was his childhood friend, Jenny Moore, who had moved to New Zealand. She was currently going through a rough divorce. His four a.m. call was likely to her. One in the US and one abroad—it was probably just an emotional affair, but that was just as unforgivable. I instructed the P.I. to stick close to Ethan. Then, I started my own 'cheating' plan. Ryan and I agreed to meet in the commercial area below Ethan’s company building. The P.I. had mentioned Ethan often went to a specific Cantonese restaurant to talk business. So, I took Ryan there. I saw Ethan escorting two people into a private room called the 'Serene Garden.' A moment later, I caught sight of Ethan striding out. He stopped short, almost stumbling, when he saw Ryan and me conspicuously seated in the main dining hall. I pretended not to see him, laughing and chatting with Ryan, and even deliberately picked up a piece of jasmine rice and fed it to him. Then, I pulled out a napkin and gently wiped his lips. Ryan had his back to Ethan, smiling broadly at me. He was handsome, his eyes were full of playful affection, and his ears were actually red. Man, Ryan is a great actor, I thought. I needed to keep up with his pace. So, when Ryan fed me, I returned the favor with a look of pure, sweet adoration. Ethan must have been absolutely furious, ready to sign the divorce papers on the spot. He’d want to save face after the public humiliation I was putting him through. Sure enough, less than ten seconds later, my phone flashed with a text from Ethan: 【Where are you?】 I had to play the part convincingly. I glanced around nervously, acting out the guilty, stolen feel of an affair to perfection. I actually hoped he’d show up and confront me, but he seemed to have retreated. I didn't reply right away. After a forty-minute dinner, while I was letting the food settle, I casually picked up my phone to text Ethan back: 【At the school cafeteria.】 You’ve been openly lied to by your wife. You should be blowing up! Burn, Mr. Grant, burn in the fiery pits of your rage! However, the dialogue box just kept showing ‘Ethan is typing...’ About ten minutes later, a message finally popped up: 【Hm, the food at the cafeteria can’t be good. Starting tomorrow, I’ll have the housekeeper pack you lunch and send it over.】 Me: 【No, thanks! I’m happy eating with my friends.】 Ethan: 【Be a good girl, don’t argue. Or I’ll have to personally deliver it.】 Me: 【Oh, okay. The housekeeper can do it, then.】 "..." Why isn't he storming over to catch us red-handed? He should be signing the divorce papers in a fit of rage, so he can finally marry his ‘one that got away’ and live happily ever after! The P.I.’s report that day said: Ethan quickly ended his restaurant meeting and rushed back to the company to meet with his executive team. He wore a dark expression the entire time, snapping at anyone who dared to speak out of turn. Also, he hired someone to follow me. 3 The war had begun, and I was on high alert. That night, I purposely came home late. The villa was pitch black and silent. I thought Ethan hadn’t returned yet. The moment I stepped into the living room, I noticed a figure in the sofa’s shadow. I jumped and quickly turned on the light. Ethan looked up at me, his face drawn and weary—the kind of exhaustion that comes after a major outburst. His resentful gaze lasted two seconds, quickly masked by a forced calm. “You’re home. How was school lately?” His voice was low, all emotion carefully constrained. I replied cheerfully, “Everything’s great. And you, Mr. Grant?” “Mhm, all good.” It was as if nothing had happened. His sharp, deep-set eyes fell on my handbag, specifically the new charm dangling from it— A heart-shaped charm of two black and white swans entwined. A symbol of love. The hand resting on the sofa instinctively began to scratch at the leather. I felt like any second, he’d charge over, rip off the charm, and throw it in the trash. After five seconds of tension, he unclenched his hand, forcing an ugly smile. “What’s that?” “Just a little charm. A friend bought it for me.” I actually bought it myself, just to needle him. He nodded impassively, then offered a strained, polite compliment: “It’s nice.” My only assessment of his calm reaction: He’s a slippery snake. Time to turn up the heat again. That night, I paced between the living room, the kitchen island, and the second floor several times. I was humming a cheerful pop song: “It’s four a.m., I see the begonia blooms still awake. Perhaps a crush is hidden within the tears…” “It’s five a.m., trying to lull this longing to sleep…” His call was at four a.m., wasn't it? Such an obvious hint—what would he think? Since the ‘cheating’ plan started, I’d changed my look. I usually went bare-faced, but now I wore light makeup. I ditched the cartoon cotton pajamas for a sleek, sexy silk nightgown. Eighty percent of my ‘college student’ innocence instantly vanished. Ethan stayed seated on the living room sofa, furiously typing on his laptop. But the corner of his eye was wrapped around my movements like a vine. He was a careful and cautious man. If he found me annoying, he could easily face the floor-to-ceiling windows. The villa sat halfway up a hill, and the view from the windows offered a stunning panorama of the city lights. He always faced the windows before. But tonight, he insisted on sitting where he could face the stairs, the island, and the entire living room. Suddenly, he asked, “What song are you singing?” “It’s a viral track, ‘Forbidden Love: The CEO’s Secret Marriage Trap.’” “Hm.” After a moment of silence, he asked, “Do you like silk nightgowns?” “Ah, haha, well…” I paused dramatically, pretending to search for a cover-up. “Lately, I just feel like they make me feel more… womanly.” The hand resting on his keyboard tensed into a fist, then slowly relaxed, and the tight line of his jaw eased slightly. Then, with a hint of dark humor, he let out a chuckle. “In that case, I should thank whoever inspired you. How considerate of them.” He slammed his laptop shut, covered the distance in a few steps, and loomed over me with intense pressure. I instinctively backed up, but he kept advancing until my back hit the wall. Then, a strong hand grabbed both my wrists and pinned them against the wall. The aggressive, dominant move forced my body flush against his. The heat of his chest seeped through the thin fabric of my nightgown, making my throat go dry. I thought he was finally going to exercise his rights as a husband. After all, his gaze was hotter than I’d ever seen, suppressing a torrent of complex emotions. “Then I absolutely must try out this damn good ‘hand feel.’” He practically bit the words out. Immediately, his warm palm traced my lower back, rubbing slowly. A wild look entered his eyes. But then he let me go, saying unconvincingly, “I tried it. It’s not good at all. Don’t wear it again.” “Some people will lie to you to get what they want. You’re still young, and you can’t tell the difference. You’ll get hurt.” His words left me one-third confused and two-thirds angry. I felt like my intelligence was being insulted. Also, I was practically advertising my cheating, and he didn't care? Only a lack of love could produce such generosity. Or maybe, he was terrified of bringing his reputation into question. Husband and wife both cheating—this marriage was completely trashed. Yet, he could endure it all, like a ninja turtle, just to protect his image. I started drafting the divorce agreement while re-evaluating: The fire isn’t hot enough yet. 4 I woke up the next morning to music blaring from Ethan’s room: “It’s four a.m., I see the begonia blooms still awake…” After breakfast, he insisted on driving me to school, a first. I begrudgingly sat in the passenger seat. And in the car, it was again: “It’s four a.m.…” I was going insane. Was he challenging me? Was he trying to make sure I knew he was pining for Jenny? Just you wait, Ethan. Today, I’m giving you a real reason to leave! I slammed the car door shut and immediately went to find Ryan. I spotted a figure quickly dodging behind a column. A small smirk played on my lips. I wrapped my arms around Ryan’s neck and jumped up, wrapping my legs around his waist. Ryan had to quickly put his hands on my rear to support me. I admit, it was a little much, but Ethan forced my hand. Since I was already doing it, I might as well make it realistic. I planted a light kiss on Ryan’s cheek. Ryan’s acting was truly superb. He immediately flushed crimson, stammering in a low voice: “C-Chloe, is this… okay?” I behaved like a giddy freshman girl lost in the throes of romantic love, smiling like a kid who’d just been given candy. “It’s just acting. Don’t take it seriously.” A flicker of disappointment crossed Ryan’s eyes, but he quickly smiled and nodded. Ryan took the day off from his classes and spent the day dedicated to our performance. We held hands, ate, shopped, played arcade games, and watched a movie… We did everything a young couple would do. Beyond the acting, Ryan was a great companion; he made everything fun. I had a genuinely great time. That evening, before leaving campus, Ryan and I stood under the cherry blossom trees to say goodbye. I transferred his pay, plus an extra two thousand dollars. I added, “You gave me your first kiss. This is only fair.” Under the cherry blossom tree, bathed in the soft, yellow street light, Ryan was radiating a beautiful, youthful haze. He was a picture. He put a hand to his forehead and laughed out loud. Then, he cupped my face and dipped his head, gently pecking my lips. “Chloe, this is a first kiss. I took the money, so I have to deliver the service.” His voice was low and seductive. I was momentarily stunned. Then, I heard the sound of someone falling into the bushes behind us. Got him. Ryan, the drama master, was truly something.
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