Chapter 1
My husband, Cheney Carter, always kept his nose clean, but now a pretentious male intern, Evan Lane, kept trying to get his attention.
On our wedding anniversary, Evan sent Cheney a voice message. "Cheney, I cut my hand cooking. It's bleeding so much, and I can't stop it."
I curled up in Cheney's arms, and he texted back right in front of me: [How much?]
Evan, thinking he had a shot, sent a close-up of his finger with blood beading on it.
He thought Cheney would tell him to bandage it up or take him to the hospital.
But Cheney replied: [That's a lot. Then cut your whole hand off before you bleed out.]
Leaning into Cheney's arms, I couldn't help but burst out laughing.
Cheney put his phone down and pinched my cheek. "That funny, huh?"
I grabbed his phone, and when I saw that savage reply, I was laughing so hard that I was about to cry. "You're like the nemesis of all those pretentious guys."
Cheney looked at me like it was obvious. "Or what? Keep him around for more trouble?"
Just then, Cheney's phone buzzed again. Evan sent a voice message again. "Cheney, how could you say that to me...
"I'm just... It hurts so much, and I'm all alone here. I'm really scared."
He even threw in a crying emoji.
I shot Cheney a raised eyebrow, wanting to see how he'd deal with Evan's second round of pitiful acting.
Cheney snatched his phone and typed back without hesitation: [If you're scared, call 911. Don't text me. My wife will get jealous.
[If she gets jealous, the consequences will be serious.]
After sending the message, he deleted Evan's messages and blocked him—all in one smooth, effortless move.
Once he was done, he tossed his phone aside, cupped my face, and looked at me seriously. "Alright, the annoying fly has been taken care of.
"Now, it's time to make it up to you for our anniversary."
He kissed me, his lips cool and fresh, with a warmth that made me feel completely safe.
That night was sweet and cozy, making me feel totally safe.
I thought that was the end of it.
After all, Cheney had made things so clear. Even someone with a little self-respect wouldn't try their luck again.
But I seriously underestimated how shameless Evan could be.
The next day, I headed to the café downstairs from Cheney's office, like I always did, to wait for him after work.
As soon as I sat down, I overheard a group of girls at the next table whispering to each other.
"Did you hear? Mr. Carter totally chewed out the new intern yesterday."
"You mean Evan? The super handsome one? Why?"
"Apparently, Evan hurt his hand and texted Mr. Carter, but Mr. Carter totally roasted him and even told him to chop his hand off."
"What? That's brutal. Mr. Carter always seems so gentle."
One of the girls lowered her voice, sounding a bit annoyed. "Who knows? Maybe he's jealous of Evan's looks. I saw Evan today. His finger was wrapped up in a thick bandage, and he looked as pale as paper. He looked so pitiful."
Another girl chimed in, "Yeah, he even apologized to us, saying he was being immature and didn't mean to bother Mr. and Mrs. Carter. Seriously, he's such a considerate guy. Mr. Carter is totally overreacting."
My fingers tightened around my coffee cup.
Turned out, being direct was totally useless.
Evan could spin the whole thing and make Cheney look like the cold, ruthless boss who picked on the new guy.
And Evan was suddenly the poor, misunderstood Mr. Innocent—so kind and sensible, quietly suffering through it all.
Talk about flipping the script.
Just then, a tall, slender figure showed up at the café entrance.
He was wearing a crisp white shirt, his face was pale as a sheet, and his right index finger was wrapped in a ridiculously thick bandage. The whole vibe he gave off was so fragile.
It was Evan.
He spotted me right away, surprise flickering in his eyes, and quickly walked over. "Mrs. Carter, I didn't expect to see you here."
He flashed a shy, innocent smile, as if he wasn't the same guy who had been flirting shamelessly yesterday.
I leaned back in my chair and replied with an indifferent nod.
"Are you waiting for Mr. Carter to get off work?" Evan asked, sounding all concerned. "Do you want me to go upstairs and let him know you're here?"
"No, it's fine. I'm not in a hurry," I said, taking a gentle sip of my coffee.
Evan stood there awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands, not sure what to do. "Mrs. Carter, I'm really sorry about yesterday."
He dropped his head, sounding genuinely guilty. "I was totally out of line, messing up your anniversary with Mr. Carter. He had every right to be upset.
"Please, don't let me be the reason you and Mr. Carter have any trouble."
His whole act was so fake and pretentious that I almost laughed out loud.
Was he apologizing?
He was basically reminding me that he was the reason my anniversary with Cheney got interrupted.
He was making it sound like Cheney was upset because of him.
And he was even trying to drive a wedge between me and Cheney.