Chapter 4

After work, I had just settled into the car when Samuel pulled me into his arms.

"Were you really that lonely while I was gone? Getting cozy with other guys already?" Samuel said, his voice low and teasing.

"Fiona insisted on setting me up," I mumbled, my excuse sounding pretty lame.

"So naughty... Tonight, I'm definitely going to punish you," Samuel said, his tone full of playful threat.

Even as he spoke, his hands were already restless, roaming all over me without any restraint.

I quickly caught his wandering hand. "Not now! Wait till we get home!"

He kept reaching for me, refusing to stop, when suddenly someone knocked on his window.

The driver glanced back. "Mr. Foster, there's a woman outside."

"A woman?" Frowning, lowered the window halfway, trying to get a better look at her.

"Mr. Foster! It's me, Monica Vane!" the woman called out.

I shrank into the corner—the name sounded familiar.

If I remembered right, she was from the PR department.

I'd heard her parents were friends with Samuel's, and she only got her job at Foster Holdings through some family connections.

Always impeccably dressed, she did little real work—more like a decorative mascot for her team.

"Monica, is there something you need?" Samuel responded with polite courtesy.

"My car got a flat tire, and I just had it towed! My phone's dead, too. Could you give me a ride home?" Monica pleaded

I was practically dying of panic.

If Monica actually got in the car, she'd totally find out what was really going on between Samuel and me.

I yanked on his suit, giving him a not-so-subtle hint to turn her down.

But Samuel just shot me a look—and then went ahead and said yes.

This was a disaster.

Then, at the last moment, my hand brushed against a blanket I'd brought from the office to wash.

I pulled it over myself. Even if Monica saw me, she wouldn't recognize who I was.

Luckily, Samuel told her to sit up front, so all she could see when she turned around was him, not me.

"Mr. Foster, I'm so lucky I ran into you. I honestly don't know what I would've done without you." She said.

Monica spoke in a cloyingly sweet, simpering voice, so overdone it felt cloying and greasy.

Samuel tossed out a reply here and there, totally uninterested.

Just as we were about to reach Monica's place, she suddenly asked, "Mr. Foster, I heard things aren't going so well between you and your wife lately. Is that true?"

Samuel fell silent, just as expected.

After a moment, he finally asked, "What makes you say that?"

"Come on, no need to cover it up. We all know that whenever you're on a business trip, besides your assistant, there's always some young girl tagging along. She's still in college, right?" Monica pressed, sounding all nosy.

My mind went blank. Was Monica for real, or was she just talking nonsense?

Before Samuel could respond, Monica kept going. "And you've been married for quite a while, but none of us have ever actually seen your wife.

"Other bosses sometimes bring their families to the annual party so everyone can meet them, but you? If you didn't mention it, nobody would even know you were married."

I heard Samuel let out a soft sigh beside me. "Honestly, I thought if I kept quiet, nobody would ever know," he said, sounding almost resigned.

Did I hear that right? Was he actually admitting it?

He really did take a college girl on a business trip.

I wanted nothing more than to morph into Godzilla and obliterate Samuel on the spot.

But reason held my raging emotions in check—I'd settle this later, once we were home.

Monica finally got out of the car, thank goodness.

I was grinding my teeth so hard I thought I might explode. If I lost control for even a second, I'd probably tear Samuel apart right then and there.

I forced myself to keep it together all the way home, but as soon as we stepped inside, I slammed Samuel against the wall in the entryway.

"Did you seriously bring a college girl with you for two weeks on your business trip?" I demanded.

Samuel didn't even bother to hide it. He nodded. "Yeah."

"How dare you!" I snapped.

Samuel stood six feet two and absolutely towered over me. I couldn't even reach his shoulders when I jumped, so trying to pin him against the wall was totally useless.

"What's wrong? Are you jealous?" He leaned down, locking eyes with me.

"Jealous?" I stammered, caught off guard.

Was this what jealousy felt like?

But honestly, I always thought I didn't like him that much.

Back before I married Samuel, I had a long-time crush on a guy.

He was bright, outgoing, and always ready to lend a hand—the complete opposite of Samuel.

But when I finally got up the nerve to confess, he shot me down.

Not long after, he went public with a girl who had a seriously bad reputation.

She'd spread nasty rumors about me, pulled all kinds of crazy stunts, and kept things ambiguous with a bunch of guys at once.

And the guy I had a crush on? He actually chose that kind of girl—someone with a bad reputation and zero morals—to be his girlfriend.

After that, my heart froze over—numb and stone-cold, as if I'd lost all feeling entirely.

I stopped believing in love, and I stopped believing in men.

To me, they were all shallow and clueless.

They only cared about appearances and always went for airheaded girls.

The only reason I agreed to marry Samuel was that I'd just given up—I stopped caring and settled for whatever came my way.

Since that guy didn't pick me, I knew he never would—and that was that.

Whether Samuel liked me or not, I couldn't care less.

After we got married, he showered me with designer bags and jewelry, filling up the living room and my bedroom, but I didn't feel a thing.

Money couldn't buy love.

I honestly thought my life would just fade away in numb emptiness, like nothing but a blank, lifeless void.