Chapter 1

My wife, Vivian, is the youngest top lawyer in New York.

Her proudest achievement was successfully defending the killer who ran over my daughter as innocent.

The day my daughter died in that horrific car accident, my wife Vivian pulled the drunk Ethan from the driver's seat, shoved him into the passenger seat, and got behind the wheel herself.

She told me: "Mia is dead, but Ethan is still alive. He has a bright future ahead of him. He can't go to prison."

Ethan was acquitted, while I was diagnosed as mentally unstable and confined at home, receiving injections for half a year.

I stopped making a fuss and quietly watched them parade around as a couple, taking the medication she gave me on schedule.

She thought I had finally become an obedient lunatic.

Until the day of the Bar Association awards ceremony, when I stepped onto the stage where she was receiving her award and pressed play on the big screen for her.

"Learned some new tricks, have you? Trying to get my attention with this indifferent attitude?"

Vivian's expression turned cold, a thin layer of anger lurking in her eyes.

"Derek, I know you're angry with me for defending Ethan. But I'm a lawyer. I won't abandon any client. Besides, Ethan was innocent to begin with."

I looked confused. "Why are you explaining all this to me? I didn't even mention Ethan."

The coldness on Vivian's face instantly froze, a trace of guilt floating to the surface of her eyes.

She reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Forget it, I'll find it myself."

I turned and went back to the bedroom. Just as I was about to lie down and rest, Vivian's gentle voice drifted in, somewhat muffled.

"Ethan, what's wrong? Don't cry, tell me slowly... Those reporters are writing nonsense. I'll come over right away."

After a while, the bedroom door was pushed open.

"Something came up with Ethan. I'm his defense attorney, so I need to go handle it." She explained somewhat uncomfortably.

"Oh."

Vivian froze.

She seemed to be waiting for me to say something more, but I just nodded calmly and smiled at her faintly.

After all, I couldn't even remember where that case file was, so how could I remember someone named Ethan?

Vivian left in anger and didn't come home all night.

The next evening, she returned.

And with her came Ethan.

His eyes were red-rimmed as he stood behind Vivian with his head lowered.

That face was indeed handsome. Even at thirty, he still looked like a college student. No wonder Vivian couldn't stop thinking about him.

"Derek," Vivian coughed somewhat uncomfortably, "Ethan's address was exposed and it's not safe anymore. I'm having him stay at our place for a few days."

Ethan kept his eyes down, his voice very low: "Derek, sorry to intrude. I really had nowhere else to go. Those people are terrifying, calling me a murderer."

"How pretentious," I thought to myself, then turned and headed to the kitchen.

At the dinner table, Ethan sat next to Vivian, helping her with soup one moment, cutting her steak the next, bustling about enthusiastically.

"Vivian, you have a sensitive stomach. You can't eat anything too spicy."

He placed the cut steak onto Vivian's plate, then shot me a provocative glance.

Vivian looked at me somewhat awkwardly, wanting to see my reaction.

I just quietly kept my head down, drinking my soup.