Chapter 3

I replayed everything that had happened that day over and over.

Director Wilson's expression.

Marcus's look.

That closed door.

That phrase "very unusual."

Everything told me that things were far from simple.

Marcus was lying to me.

He was hiding a huge secret.

What was this secret?

Late at night, just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard the master bedroom door open.

I immediately held my breath and closed my eyes.

I felt Marcus walk in and stand by the bed.

He stood there for a very long time.

I could feel his gaze scanning my face like a searchlight.

That gaze no longer held its usual warmth, only scrutiny and coldness.

My heart pounded so fast it was about to leap from my chest.

What was he looking at?

What did he want to do?

Finally, he turned and left.

I heard the balcony door being pulled open softly.

After a while, I quietly got out of bed and walked to the bedroom door, looking out through the crack.

Marcus stood on the balcony with his back to me.

He was on the phone.

The night was quiet, and though his voice was low, I could still hear.

He seemed to be arguing with someone, his tone full of irritation and helplessness.

"...How was I supposed to know this would happen?"

"..."

"Don't panic!"

"..."

"I said, let me figure something out!"

"..."

Suddenly, as if he couldn't take it anymore, he growled quietly.

"How could she at this time..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but those unfinished words were like a sledgehammer, pounding hard on my heart.

She?

Which "she"?

Who was this "she" Marcus was talking about?

That sentence was like a poisoned thorn lodged in my heart, festering all night.

The next morning when Marcus got up, I was already sitting on the living room sofa.

I hadn't slept all night. My eyes were full of bloodshot veins.

When he saw me, he froze, his eyes somewhat evasive.

"Up so early?"

He walked over, seeming to want to say something.

I ignored him and walked straight into the bathroom.

In the mirror, I looked haggard with dark circles under my eyes, like a ghost.

In just one day, I'd been tormented into this state.

I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face over and over.

I needed to be clearheaded.

I couldn't just sit and wait anymore. I couldn't let him keep brushing me off with lies.

I had to find the answers myself.

Coming out of the bathroom, Marcus had already changed and was preparing to leave.

"I have an early meeting at the office today."

He picked up his briefcase, didn't even look at me, and hurriedly changed his shoes.

"Wait a minute," I called out to him.

He stopped and looked back at me.

"Who were you calling on the balcony last night?" I asked point-blank.

His expression changed instantly.

A flash of panic crossed his eyes but was quickly covered up.

"Work stuff," he said. "A project ran into some problems."

"Really?" I stared into his eyes. "Which project manager is named 'she'?"

Marcus froze completely.

His lips moved but couldn't form a sentence.

"Diana," he finally spoke, his tone carrying a hint of pleading, "can you stop asking?"

"I'm begging you."

"Some things are better not knowing."

That sentence completely confirmed my suspicions.

He was having an affair.

That so-called "she" was his mistress.

Something was wrong with my body—I might have a serious illness—so he was anxious to cut ties with his mistress?

Or was my illness related to that woman?

In an instant, countless melodramatic scenarios played out in my mind.

My heart felt like it was soaked in ice water, both cold and painful.

"Marcus," I looked at him and said word by word, "we're done."

With that, I stopped looking at him, turned and walked back to the bedroom, and closed the door.

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