Chapter 3

In the following days, to make Quinn show his hand, I stopped mentioning the upstairs situation.

And after he said last time that he'd had someone fix it upstairs, there really hadn't been any more leaking.

Less than a week passed. Whether the mistress couldn't wait or Quinn was getting anxious, he went on another "business trip."

This time, half a day after he left, there still wasn't any leaking from upstairs. Had it really been fixed?

Just then, there was a knock at the door, followed by a delivery person's voice.

I froze. I hadn't ordered anything. Why was there a delivery?

I opened the door and accepted the package. When I saw what was inside, my heart instantly raced.

The recipient was Quinn, the address was our apartment number, and the phone number was my secondary number.

But inside the bag was a bottle of body wash, a box of condoms, and a bottle of lubricant.

My heart clenched. The items in my hand felt like they weighed a thousand pounds.

As I expected, when I opened the body wash, that familiar scent instantly hit my nose.

And I was allergic to lubricant. In all the time Quinn and I had been together, we'd never used such things.

The truth was becoming clear. Quinn must be with that woman right now.

He had ordered these items but hadn't paid attention to the address, so they were delivered to our home.

And the delivery app not automatically switching addresses also indicated that his second home must be somewhere near our complex.

If I wasn't mistaken, the upstairs apartment must be where the mistress was hiding.

Because the day I came back early from my trip, Quinn had been cooking for her.

But whether she hadn't arrived yet, or had left early after learning I was coming home, I still couldn't figure out.

I was so angry my breathing became rapid. Tears streamed down drop by drop.

But quickly, I wiped my tears and took these items out the door.

When I got upstairs, I knocked hard on the door. In less than ten minutes, it opened.

"What the hell! Why are you banging on my door so late at night?"

Seeing the burly man before me, completely unprepared, I froze in shock.

What was going on? Had I really been overthinking everything all along?

Before I could react, the man grabbed my hair hard and slammed me into the door.

"I've been putting up with you for a long time! Having your boyfriend come bother me again and again. Now I've fixed the leak and you still come looking for trouble. I'll beat you to death!"

His fists, the size of sandbags, rained down on my body. I kept begging for mercy through the pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please stop!"

Just as I was about to pass out, the man finally stopped.

"I'm telling you, if you dare come up and bother me again, I'll kill you."

I curled up on the ground, my body in too much pain to speak.

The man slammed the door shut. After about ten minutes, I slowly got up from the floor and went home.

Nearly breaking down, I video-called Quinn. When he saw my condition, his face immediately filled with anxiety.

"What happened to your face?! Who hurt you?"

I didn't answer. I just held up the bag. "Quinn, how do you explain these items?"

Quinn looked surprised and said angrily, "This must be that upstairs resident playing tricks! That day I went up to have him fix the leak, he was very unhappy and even wanted me to pay the repair costs. When I refused, he tried to hit me. In the end, I threatened to call the police and he finally let me go. I was afraid you'd worry so I didn't tell you. This must be his petty revenge. I'll come back right away."

The injuries on my body throbbed with pain. I could no longer tell what was true and what was false in Quinn's words.

Who exactly was living upstairs?

About three hours later, Quinn came rushing back, travel-worn.