Chapter 1

I stared at the black fabric I had just pulled out of the washing machine, my fingers unconsciously tracing the torn lace edge.

The tear in these yoga pants was right in the crotch area.

The material was high-quality, Lily's favorite Lululemon brand. She always said this fabric was breathable and form-fitting, perfect for yoga without any risk of exposure.

But now, these four-figure yoga pants had a vicious tear in the crotch, as if something sharp had forcibly ripped them open.

What concerned me more was the suspicious white stains along the edges of the tear. They had dried and crusted, feeling hard to the touch.

I leaned in for a closer look and caught a faint, fishy smell that made my stomach churn.

"What are you looking at?" Lily's voice came from behind. I instinctively stuffed the yoga pants into the laundry basket and turned around with a forced smile.

"Nothing, just finished the laundry," I said casually, but my eyes couldn't help but linger on her face.

She had light makeup on today, with perfectly drawn eyeliner and soft pink lipstick. She looked polished and elegant.

"Oh," she responded indifferently, walking to the fridge to grab a bottle of yogurt. "I'm going to the gym tonight, so you'll have to eat dinner alone."

I nodded, watching her scoop up the yogurt. A drop of white liquid fell from the spoon, leaving a small stain on her shirt.

She frowned and grabbed a tissue to wipe it off.

"By the way," I asked, trying to sound casual, "what happened to your black yoga pants? How did they get torn?"

She paused for a moment, the spoon clinking against the glass bowl.

"Oh, that," she continued scooping the yogurt, "I accidentally caught them on some equipment during training yesterday. Just my luck."

"Is that so?" I stared at her profile. "The tear looks pretty bad."

"Yeah," she smiled, tossing the empty yogurt container in the trash. "But it's fine, I've had them for a while anyway. I'll buy a new pair soon."

I watched her walk into the bedroom to change, but my heart felt heavy.

She had only bought those yoga pants last month. She even posted about them on social media, bragging that they were limited edition and hard to get.

And knowing her personality, if she had really accidentally torn them, she would have been devastated. How could she be so nonchalant about it?

I walked back to the laundry basket and picked up the yoga pants again. The edges of the tear were jagged, as if they had been forcibly stretched open.

Upon closer inspection, I found a small electronic key sewn into the inside of the waistband, engraved with a series of numbers: XX-032