Chapter 1

An anonymous email shattered everything I thought I knew.

In the attached photo was my gentle and graceful wife, Roxy.

In it, she was lying on a hotel bed I didn't recognize, wearing black lace I had never seen before, her eyes hazy and seductive.

At the end of the email, a taunting line read: [Your wife tastes pretty damn good. What a pity she ended up with a loser like you.]

I had talent, but no path for promotion—blocked by the dimwitted son of my boss who parachuted in from nowhere.

My life was already at rock bottom.

Then came this email.

That instantly blew apart my last shred of reason.

Humiliation and rage made me shake all over.

*****

After typing the last line of code, I let out a deep sigh of relief and slumped back against the cold chair.

The pale glow of the monitor cast shadows on my exhausted face, highlighting the nearly completed progress bar on the screen.

I'd spent three years at this huge tech company. I, Mitchell Livingston, was basically the workhorse, the guy everyone in the technology department counted on.

Pulling all-nighters was just part of the job, and dealing with technical disasters was kind of my thing. More than a few projects only went live because I jumped in and saved the day at the last minute.

Behind my back, my coworkers called me a workaholic. Even our director, Wayne Miller, would give me a pat on the shoulder, with that look of approval in his eyes, and...

Maybe even a trace of guilt?

But I didn't really think much of it. What I actually cared about was the manager promotion. It was basically a done deal this time.

I'd lost track of how many late nights I'd pulled for this promotion.

I missed out on so much time with my wife, Roxy Sanders; even the stress of our mortgage felt like nothing in comparison.

If I got promoted and my salary doubled, I could finally give Roxy the good life she deserved, and she could hold her head high around friends and family.

I'd even planned it all out: the second I got that first raise, I'd take her to Moranta, the place she'd been dreaming about forever.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, everyone gathered for a meeting.

Wayne cleared his throat and started reading out the latest personnel appointments.

My heart was in my throat. The tips of my fingers were tingling as I kept my eyes glued to his lips.

The first few names on the promotion list didn't surprise anyone. They were all the usual suspects.

Then it was time for the technology department.

"For the technology department, um..."

Wayne paused, his eyes scanning the room as if he were looking for something.

I sat up straight.

"After some discussion, the company has decided to make Howard Yates the new technology manager."

My mind buzzed.

It was like something just exploded in my head.

Howard Yates?

The guy who had just parachuted into our department last month through the "Specialized Talent Acquisition" program?

The one who spent all day idling around and couldn't even figure out a few basic frameworks?

The room went quiet, and then a few people gave some awkward, half-hearted claps to break the tension.

I looked at Howard. He was young and good-looking, but when it came to actual work, he was useless.

He stood up, grinning like he totally deserved it, and gave everyone a little wave, even though people were giving him some pretty weird looks.

"Congratulations, Mr. Yates!" someone called out, breaking the awkwardness.

I stood there, completely stunned, like all the blood in my body had rushed to my head and then instantly froze.

Beside me, Zach, my longtime coworker, gave my arm a discreet nudge and muttered, "Mitch, don't let it get to you. That kid's Mr. Ernest Yates' son."

Ernest Yates was the head of the entire company.

I finally realized what was going on.

All my hard work, all my skills—none of it mattered when it came down to "connections."

I felt like a fool, naively believing I could change my fate with my own ability.

A wave of disappointment and anger crashed over me. My throat felt bitter and dry.

Resentment gnawed at my heart.

Why him but not me?

When the meeting ended, colleagues lined up one after another to congratulate the newly appointed manager.

Those fake smiles and sycophantic words grated on my ears like nails on a chalkboard.

I quietly packed up my things, not even bothering to shut down my laptop. All I wanted was to get out of this suffocating place as fast as possible.

As I stepped out of the building, the cool evening breeze brushed against my face, but it couldn't cool the fire burning in my chest.

I got on the subway like a wandering soul.

The carriage was packed. Everyone just stared ahead, but it felt like they were all secretly laughing at what a loser I was.

Back home, I jammed my key into the lock and twisted.

The door opened, and the aroma of dinner hit me.

Roxy was in the kitchen with her apron on, busy as always.

She was always so gentle and thoughtful, keeping our home perfectly in order. She was the only light in my worn-out life.

She turned to give me a sweet smile. "You're back.

"I made your favorite roasted beef today. Go wash your hands. It'll be ready soon."

As I watched her moving around the kitchen, the resentment and anger inside me felt like they were about to burst out of my chest.

I wanted nothing more than to rush over, hold her tight, and tell her I'd failed to get the promotion.

I wanted to tell her that some guy with connections stole the promotion, and how much it totally wrecked me.

I needed her comfort, even if it was just a simple, "It's okay; you're always the best in my heart."

I walked up behind her and tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come out.

How could I bring myself to say those dejected words to her?

She always expected so much from me.

"Why are you standing there zoning out?" she asked.

She wiped her hands on her apron, turned around, and looked at me with a puzzled expression.

"You don't look so great. Work keeping you too busy?"

"N-Nothing." I forced a smile. "I'm just a little tired."

"If you're tired, rest for a bit. Dinner will be ready soon."

She reached out to take my briefcase for me.

Just then, my phone chimed softly in my pocket.

It was an email notification.

Instinctively, I pulled out my phone and swiped the screen.

There was a new email from "Unknown Sender" in my inbox.

No subject line, just a single line of preview text.

As soon as my eyes caught that line, my heart suddenly tightened.