Chapter 1
My colleague opened a "Rich Heir Mystery Box" and pulled out a gold bar, causing a stir throughout the entire company.
Out of curiosity, I bought one, too.
The moment I opened it, my hand trembled.
Inside was a set of light purple lace lingerie, carrying a familiar perfume scent.
It was unmistakably the wedding anniversary gift I had just given my wife last week.
When I got home, my wife was curled up on the sofa, streaming a drama.
I asked her with a smile, "Honey, where's that lingerie I gave you last week? Put it on for me tonight, okay?"
Her eyes clearly showed a flash of panic as she stammered out an explanation.
She said, "Well, it got ruined in the wash. I threw it in the trash bin."
As she spoke, her eyes even turned red. "I'm sorry, honey. I was afraid you'd be upset, so I didn't dare tell you. I really liked that set."
I held her and comforted her softly, but inside, I felt cold.
The next day, I checked her phone and found text message conversations with a number.
My wife: [Did you hide that lingerie I left at your place last time properly?]
The adulterer: [Don't worry. It's taken care of. What? Can't wait to have it again?]
My wife: [No, let's talk in a few days. He's going on a business trip next week.]
The owner of that number was none other than my boss, Edward Grant.
*****
At breakfast, the air was thick with tension.
My wife, Olivia Carter, sat across from me, head down, spooning oatmeal into her mouth. Her hair was loosely tied back, a few strands framing her face.
She looked beautiful.
If it hadn't been for that mystery box yesterday, I probably would've still thought she was the purest woman in the world.
"Honey," I called out.
Olivia's hand trembled, and a few drops of oatmeal spilled from her spoon.
She looked up, forcing a smile as she asked, "What's wrong, honey?"
But she couldn't even look me in the eye.
"Did you really ruin that lingerie in the wash?" I asked casually, peeling my egg. My voice was so calm, even I was impressed.
Olivia set her spoon down, her fingers nervously twisting together.
She said, half whining, half pouting, "Ugh, why are you still bringing that up?
"I told you already that the lace was flimsy. It got all snagged in the wash and was basically ruined, so I just tossed it.
"Honey, do you not trust me?"
She stood up, came behind me, and hugged me from behind, pressing her cheek against mine.
Her warmth pressed against me.
It used to feel comforting, but at that moment, it just felt wrong.
I said, patting her hand, "How could I not trust you?
"I just think it's a shame. I spent a long time picking that out.
"Next time, I'll get you something even better."
Olivia let out a sigh of relief and gave me a big, noisy kiss on the cheek.
She said, "You're the best, honey. I'm gonna be late for work, so I'm heading out."
She grabbed her bag and rushed out the door as if she couldn't get away fast enough.
She even forgot to grab her favorite heels.
The moment the door closed behind her, my smile disappeared.
I pulled out my phone and opened the cloud backup where I'd saved those messages.
Those texts felt like needles, pricking my eyes as I stared at the screen.
The adulterer: [Don't worry. It's taken care of. What? Can't wait to have it again?]
The timestamp showed she sent that reply right when I was in the kitchen, slicing fruit for her.
Just a minute earlier, she was whining to me about being exhausted from work, saying her back was sore.
So, that was what was really behind her back pain.
I stood up and walked out onto the balcony.
I watched as that familiar figure, Olivia, stepped out of the building.
She didn't head for the subway station.
A black Maybach was parked by the curb.
The window slid halfway down, a hand with a cigarette sticking out.
It was Edward's car.
Olivia looked around like a thief, then hurriedly jumped into the car.
The car sped away, disappearing down the street.
I lit up a cigarette and took a fierce drag, letting the bitterness fill me.
The smoke hit my lungs like a punch, stinging, raw, and painfully sharp.
Edward Grant was the heir to the Grant Group.
And he was the only son of Richard Grant, my benefactor.
Back then, Richard paid for my college tuition. Out of gratitude, I turned down countless high-paying job offers and stayed at Grant Group, just another unrecognized technical backbone.
Basically, I was a classic workhorse.
I rebuilt Grant Group's core systems three times and helped them rack up more patents than I can count.
Richard once told me, "Henry Carter, you're the anchor of Grant Group. When Edward takes over, he'll make sure you're taken care of."
So, this was what "being taken care of" really meant?
He slept with my wife, then tossed her lingerie into a mystery box as his trophy, just to rub it in my face.
I crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray.
The ember hissed and died.
Alright then. I would make sure they both get what they deserve.
When I got to the office, the vibe was off.
Normally, the interns would greet me when they saw me, but on that day, they all kept their distance and pretended not to notice me.
Whispers filled the break room, popping up everywhere.
"Hey, did you hear? The higher-ups just sent out a memo."
"I think it's about some big changes in the tech team."