When I opened Ethan Parker’s briefcase, the box of contraceptives leaped into my sight without any warning. Trojan, ultra-thin, strawberry-flavored. My fingers recoiled as if electrocuted, then forced themselves to reach out again. As I carefully picked up the small square box, the plastic wrapping reflected the light with a cold gleam that stung my eyes.
“Olivia, where did you put my charger?” Ethan’s voice called from the primary bedroom, followed by the sound of him rummaging through drawers.
“It’s in the second drawer of the nightstand,” my voice sounded surprisingly calm. At the same time, I quickly checked the manufacturing date. They were brand new, produced just last week. A bitter laugh escaped me internally.
Ethan walked out into the living room, his slippers shuffling on the floor. Dressed in a well-pressed suit, he was the very picture of a so-called elite—thirty-five this year, the age when a man is said to be most attractive. A well-maintained physique, a handsome face, and a reasonably successful business. He had all the qualities that would make women approach him.
“Packing my bag for me?” He glanced at the briefcase in my hand, his expression unchanging.
“Yes, you have that business trip to LA tomorrow.” I casually slipped the box back into an inner pocket of the briefcase and covered them with a few wet wipes. “I packed some wipes just in case. It’s hot over there.”
“You’re the best, honey.” He came over and kissed my forehead. The obligatory kiss smelled of cold aftershave, just like our marriage of the past two years: polished on the outside, but cold and sharp as ice within.
Ethan went back to the bedroom to finish packing. I sat on the sofa, staring at my uncontrollably trembling hands. When was the last time we had been intimate? Three months ago? Or was it six? The memory was already hazy. Whenever I initiated, he would push me away, always using work fatigue as an excuse. Eventually, I lost interest, too. Looking back now, it wasn’t that he was tired. He just wasn’t interested in me.
I mechanically walked to the kitchen and started preparing dinner. The rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board filled the air. The perfect wife, the perfect home, the perfect marriage. What a disgusting hypocrisy it had all been for the last five years. My reflection stared back at me from the window above the sink. Twenty-nine. Fine lines were already beginning to appear around my eyes. I suddenly remembered my college days when Ethan pursued me relentlessly. He used to call me his muse, saying my eyes held the stars. Those stars had burned out long ago. They had died the first time he stayed out all night, the time his phone password changed three times, the time I smelled a strange perfume on his shirt collar.
During dinner, Ethan chattered excitedly about a project he was about to sign. I smiled and nodded, occasionally placing a side dish on his plate. Who could imagine that under the table, my nails were digging so deep into my palms that they left four bloody crescent moons?
“My flight is early tomorrow morning, so I think I’ll turn in early tonight,” he said, his tone deliberately apologetic.
“Of course,” I answered like a model wife.
After Ethan went into the bathroom, I put on rubber gloves and began washing the dishes. My mind was strangely clear. That box of contraceptives had lodged itself in my nerves like a thorn. After drying my hands, I went to the storage closet and found a bottle of sulfuric acid I had bought for clearing drains. I also found a leftover syringe in the medicine cabinet. My hands were remarkably steady.
Ethan’s briefcase was on the shoe rack by the front door. I took out the box and carefully used the syringe needle to pierce a tiny hole in the side of each individual wrapper. Then I injected a few drops of the acid. The liquid was absorbed instantly, the tiny holes nearly invisible. After I was done, I returned the box to its original spot and put away all my tools as if nothing had happened.
Ethan came out of the shower. “You don’t look so good. Are you too tired?” he asked.
“I guess I am a little,” I forced a smile. “You should get to bed.”
I sat in the darkness of the living room, listening to the ticking of the wall clock. I didn’t know what I was waiting for—maybe an apology, or an excuse, or even the slightest expression of guilt, but there was nothing. Thirty minutes later, I heard his steady breathing from the bedroom. I quietly went into the study and turned on the computer. I logged into Ethan’s cloud drive. The password was our wedding anniversary. He hadn’t changed it in five years.
Among countless work files, I found an encrypted folder. After a few tries, I typed in “Kloe189,” and the folder opened. It was filled with pictures of Kloe, my sister-in-law, my brother-in-law Liam Parker’s wife of two years. In the photos, Kloe was in various provocative lingerie, posing seductively on hotel beds. A few were even taken from our own family photos; in places where my and Liam’s gazes didn’t reach, Ethan’s hand was boldly wrapped around her rear. The most recent photo was taken last week. They were naked, embracing. The background was a hotel in Hawaii, the same one we had stayed at on our honeymoon. I bit my lower lip until I tasted blood. They had deliberately chosen that place to insult me.
I closed the computer, went out to the balcony, and lit a cigarette, a habit I had quit for three years because Ethan hated it. The night air was cold, and the smoke I exhaled quickly dissipated, like my last lingering attachments to this marriage.
At 2:00 a.m., my phone suddenly rang. It was an unknown number. “Are you a family member of Mr. Ethan Parker?” a woman asked urgently.
“I’m his wife. What’s wrong?”
“This is the emergency room at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. Your husband and another female patient were brought in. Their condition is critical. You need to come here immediately.”
“A female patient?” My voice sounded like it was coming from far away. “May I ask who she is?”
There was a moment of silence. Amidst the loud background noise, I could faintly hear a man screaming hysterically. “Ethan Parker, you son of a…! How could you do this to me?” It was my brother-in-law Liam’s voice.
“Her last name seems to be an initial C,” the nurse said hesitantly. “They both have severe chemical burns on their lower bodies and need immediate surgery.”
“I’ll be right there.” I hung up and calmly changed my clothes. I even put on light makeup. In the taxi on the way to the hospital, I watched the neon signs streak past the window and suddenly laughed. Those strawberry-flavored contraceptives. It was Kloe’s favorite flavor. Now they would never have to worry about contraception again.
The hospital corridor seemed endless. A crowd had gathered in front of the emergency room. I recognized Liam at once. He was being held back by two security guards, thrashing like a wild beast. His white shirt was spattered with blood.
“Ethan Parker, get out here, you disgrace!” Liam’s voice was completely hoarse. “How could you be with my wife? You’re not even human!”
I slowed my pace and put on an appropriate expression of anxiety and confusion. “Liam, what’s going on? Where’s Ethan?”
Liam whipped his head around, his bloodshot eyes staring at me. “Olivia, you didn’t know?” He suddenly burst into a crazed laugh. “Olivia, your husband and my wife, the two of them…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, his body trembling with rage.
“Are you Mr. Ethan Parker’s family?” a nurse asked, approaching me. I nodded and followed her toward the ER. Behind me, I heard Liam’s broken sobs. The sound should have pained my heart, but at that moment, I could only sneer. Liam Parker, you should have kept a better watch on your own wife.
The emergency room was chaos. The sickening smell of burning flesh hit my nose. Ethan was lying on a gurney, his face pale and drenched in a cold sweat. His pants had been cut away, and his inner thighs were a horrific mess of blood and flesh.
“The patient’s lower body has been corroded by a strong acidic substance. His private parts have suffered severe burns and require immediate surgery,” the attending physician said without looking up. “I need you to sign this surgical consent form.”
I took the tablet and deliberately paused. “How could this happen?”
Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Olivia, I can explain—”
“Explain what?!” Liam’s furious shout erupted from outside the curtain. “You’re going to explain being with my wife? Why don’t you explain why you booked a room at the Ritz-Carlton?”
I took a deep breath, signed the form, and leaned down toward Ethan. “Don’t worry,” I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “It’s going to be okay.”
“The surgery is high risk,” the doctor said gravely. “The corroded area is too large. We may have to remove a portion.”
“Remove?” I widened my eyes.
“The organ,” the doctor said flatly. “We’ll try to save the testicles, but there will definitely be functional problems.”
Ethan suddenly started to struggle. “No, doctor, please! I can’t!”
I patted his hand and said to the doctor, “Please do your best.” Then I leaned in and whispered in Ethan’s ear again, a voice only he could hear. “It’s okay. It’s not like you were using it anyway.” His pupils dilated for a moment, but as the drugs took effect, his heavy eyelids fluttered shut.
I stepped out from behind the curtain. Liam was slumped in a chair in the hallway, his head in his hands.
“The hotel called me,” Liam’s voice echoed as if from an empty cave. “By the time I got there… Chloe had fainted from the pain, but even then, she was still clutching that box of contraceptives.”
I almost burst out laughing. How ironic. That strawberry-flavored Trojan had now become the undeniable proof of their affair.
“The other female patient is in operating room three,” a nurse approached and said. “We need a guardian’s signature.”
“I’ll go,” I said, and followed the nurse. Kloe was lying there, her usual glamorous beauty gone. A doctor was treating the wound between her legs, the bedsheet soaked in blood.
“The patient’s internal organs are severely damaged. We may have to perform a full hysterectomy,” the doctor said concisely.
“I’m her sister-in-law,” I calmly replied, signing my name. The moment the pen scratched the paper, I felt a thrilling sense of satisfaction. Hadn’t Kloe always boasted about being five years younger than me, about how she could get pregnant more easily? Now she would never have to worry about childbirth again.
When I returned to the hallway, Liam was gone. The emergency room doors burst open, and a familiar figure rushed in. It was my mother-in-law, the queen mother of the Parker dynasty.
“What in God’s name happened?!” her sharp voice pierced the entire ER. “Where is Ethan?” She grabbed my wrist, her nails digging into my flesh. “You’re his wife. How could you let this happen?”
That one sentence ignited years of suppressed anger. I shook her hand off and sneered coldly. “Mother, your son got hurt while fooling around. Was I supposed to bring him a silver platter?”
My mother-in-law was stunned. Just then, the door to the operating room opened, and a surgeon walked out. “Mr. Ethan Parker’s family. The surgery went well. However, the damage was so severe that we had to remove the top third of his organ. His fertility will also be significantly reduced.”
My mother-in-law froze as if struck by lightning. Her face turned deathly pale. She suddenly turned on me, her eyes spitting fire. “This is all your fault! You’re useless, unable to keep your husband satisfied, so he had to look for other women!”
I took a deep breath and, right on cue, let tears well up in my eyes. “Mother,” my voice trembled. “Ethan… he was in the hotel with Liam’s wife. With Kloe.”
The expression on my mother-in-law’s face was a sight to behold: first shock, then disbelief, and finally a grotesque contortion. Just then, the door to operating room three also opened. “Miss Kloe’s guardian, the surgery is over. We performed a full hysterectomy. It is unlikely she will be able to engage in intercourse in the future.”
Liam, who had appeared from nowhere, grabbed the doctor by the collar and screamed, “Unable to have intercourse? She’s only twenty-eight!”
I watched this melodrama unfold with cold eyes. My mother-in-law had already slumped into a chair, muttering, “Why me?” Liam was leaning against the wall, sobbing uncontrollably. What a picture of a happy family.
The police started an investigation. They found the torn Trojan box in the hotel room and sent the remaining ones for testing. My mother-in-law shot up. “The police? No, this has to be covered up!”
“Mother,” I said calmly. “If there really was a problem with the contraceptives, the manufacturer should be held responsible.” This line worked like a tranquilizer. No one would ever suspect someone had tampered with them deliberately.
The next morning, Ethan woke up. The first words out of his mouth were about his mistress’s well-being. “Kloe, how’s Kloe?”
“She had a hysterectomy,” I said lightly. True fear flickered in his eyes.
“What happened? Those contraceptives…”
“The police are treating it as a manufacturing defect,” I said calmly, a story I had concocted after a private conversation with the doctor and a substantial “donation” to the hospital’s research fund.
Ethan closed his eyes, trying to process the information. When he opened them again, they were filled with tears of self-pity. “Olivia, listen to me, Kloe and I… it’s not what you think. We were meeting because of a project. Liam’s company was in financial trouble, and Kloe asked me for help.”
I wanted to applaud him. What a perfect excuse. If I hadn’t seen those disgusting photos with my own eyes, I might have even believed him. “I see,” I said, maintaining a gentle gaze. “Don’t think about anything else. Just focus on getting better.”
His tense body visibly relaxed. He thought I believed him. This man, who had habitually deceived me, could never have imagined that I would one day repay him in the same way.
That evening, I called a number I hadn’t contacted in five years. “Jack Riley,” I said into the phone. “It’s Olivia Taylor. I’m married now, and I need a little help.”
Jack had been famous in our college newspaper days for digging up dirt. He now ran a private investigation firm. “Money is no object,” I said, staring at my cold eyes in the rearview mirror. “As detailed as possible, and as fast as possible.”
Jack’s report sat in my inbox like a time bomb. Ethan and Kloe tangled together in hotels, in cars, even on our living room sofa. The oldest photo was dated March of last year—our fourth wedding anniversary. There was also a finance director at his company, Sarah Jenkins, a recent college graduate. And then, the real bombshell.
“There’s a huge problem with your husband’s company books,” Jack had written. “Over the past year, he’s embezzled at least half a million.” The number stabbed at my eyes. Five hundred thousand dollars, and he had told me the company was struggling.
“Where did the money go?” I asked.
“Some went to Kloe’s studio, some to Sarah Jenkins’s account, and the rest,” Jack paused, “was sent to a children’s hospital account. The memo said, ‘Medical expenses.’”
This information confused me. The reason we didn’t have kids after five years of marriage was because he always said he wasn’t ready. Then, Jack sent a final file. A photo of a three-year-old boy. His medical chart read, “Leo Parker, acute lymphoblastic leukemia.” The world spun. Ethan had a son, three years old. He didn’t dislike children; he just didn’t want children with me.
When I returned to the hospital, Ethan was groaning. “My stomach hurts so bad.”
“What’s wrong?” I pressed the call button, feigning concern. I had been mixing a mild laxative into his food and pills. I would make him watch everything he owned slip away, just like my dignity had over the years.
In the hallway, I ran into Liam. “Kloe wants a divorce,” he cried. “She said she was in love with my brother all along.”
“He’s not worth ruining your life over,” I said, pushing him down by the shoulders. “You need to get back what’s rightfully yours. The company. You’re the second son of the Parker family. Why should all the assets go to your brother? Now that he’s incapacitated, it’s only right that you inherit it. I’ll help you.” His eyes no longer held pain, but ambition. Another chess piece was in place.
That night, an email from Jack Riley arrived. “Found the kid. Clearwater County General Hospital. Small apartment nearby in Ethan Parker’s name. Kid lives there with a nanny.”
The walls of Clearwater County General Hospital were painted a pale green, with mold creeping up the corners. In a six-bed room, a skinny little boy was propped up against pillows, flipping through a picture book. His hair was sparse, his face almost transparent.
The moment he saw me, his eyes lit up, and a smile spread across his small face. “Mommy,” he held out his arms.
I froze on the spot. Ethan must have shown him my picture.
“Mommy, hug.” Leo suddenly launched himself at me. He was as light as a feather, his body smelling faintly of medicine and the sweet scent of a child. A strange feeling welled up from deep within my heart, like a crack forming on the surface of a frozen lake.
“The doctor says his condition isn’t good,” the nanny said, wiping her eyes. “He needs a bone marrow transplant, but they can’t find a match. Mr. Parker was tested, but he wasn’t a match, and we can’t contact the child’s birth mother.”
“Are the medical bills still being paid?” I asked.
The nanny shook her head. “Mr. Parker said the company is having a tough time.”
Tough time, I sneered. He spent all the money on Kloe and Sarah.
I took a card from my bag. “There’s twenty thousand dollars on here. The pin is Ethan’s birthday. Pay the overdue bills.”
Leaving the hospital, the child’s innocent gaze, his joyful voice calling me “Mommy,” all of it was such a cruel irony. For five years, I had wanted a child so badly, but I could never get pregnant. And Ethan had a child of his own all along, deceiving me the entire time.
A nurse called me from the hospital later that day. “Ma’am, we have the results of Leo Parker’s bone marrow test. There’s something strange. You and the child are not related by blood, but your tissue compatibility is extremely high, almost at the level of immediate family.”
I gripped the phone tightly. A wild thought entered my mind. What if Leo wasn’t Ethan’s son?
