Chapter 2

Attached was a formal complaint, signed by Serena herself.

I collapsed onto the cold floor, my gaze empty, fixed on the dining table.

On it sat an unopened cake.

Serena had prepared it in advance to celebrate my first successful mission.

I suddenly remembered years ago, when I got into the police academy and excitedly told her the news.

She hugged me tightly, her eyes sparkling brighter than any star in the night sky.

"Ryan, I'm so proud of you."

It was all a lie, then.

All those memories I'd cherished as priceless were nothing but her empty charade.

I shakily answered the phone.

On the other end, Serena's voice was back to its usual tenderness, now making me sick to my stomach.

"Ryan, let me explain. I really had too much to drink…"

I cut her off, my voice a raw croak:

"Serena, do you honestly think I'd believe that?"

She paused, then her tone shifted, filled with a weary understanding, almost patronizing.

"Ryan, what happened today was really messy, and it's bad for your career."

"I've already arranged a new job for you. It's easier than being a cop, and the pay is higher. You…"

I let out a choked laugh, tears streaming down my face.

"Serena, who are you to decide my life for me!"

The next second, Brett's message popped up.

The photo showed him wrapped in Serena's favorite bathrobe.

The collar was wide open, revealing mottled hickeys on his collarbone.

The background was the marital home Serena and I had decorated with our own hands.

That soft, white king-sized bed we'd picked out together.

But Serena had told me the house was still airing out and uninhabitable.

Below the photo, a caption:

[Big brother, the bed you picked out is so comfortable.

Your taste in women isn't bad either.]

A furious rush of blood surged to my head. I grabbed my car keys and stormed out.

Soon, I stood at the villa's front door.

I entered the code Serena and I had chosen, but it kept flashing "incorrect."

I had to go around to the backyard, scramble up the wall, and climb onto the balcony.

Voices drifted from the living room.

I lightened my steps, moving closer, one foot after another.

In the dining room, Serena was gently feeding Brett porridge, spoonful by spoonful.

Her movements were soft, intimate, a tenderness I'd never experienced myself.

"I don't like these curtains. Too plain. Change them."

Brett pointed to the galaxy-themed curtains I'd personally chosen, his tone demanding.

Serena playfully tapped his nose, a doting smile on her face:

"Okay, we'll change them."

"Whatever Brett likes, we'll get."

After giving his instructions, Brett pouted, asking impatiently.

"Serena, just don't marry him..."

Serena put down the bowl and kissed Brett's forehead.

"Silly boy, marrying him is a necessity."

"I need a husband with a clean, respectable record, and someone who'd listen to her."

Each of her words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest.

"But don't worry, you'll always be the man of this house."

"My true love is only you."

My nails dug into my palms, but the physical pain was a mere fraction of the agony in my heart.

Brett still wasn't happy and turned his head away.

Serena chuckled softly, then started kissing his neck.

Her hand, growing bolder, slipped beneath his shirt.

"Serena…"

Brett feigned reluctance, then suddenly pushed Serena down onto the sofa.

Soon, they were entwined, right there on the couch.

I stood in the shadows, watching that scene,

Trembling, frozen to my core.

It wasn't until the cold wind had completely chilled me that I returned the way I came, through the window.

Back in my car, I pulled out my phone and shakily opened a webpage.

[Special Talent Recruitment Program – Border Patrol]

Selected candidates would serve on the border, with restricted communication, for ten years.

I calmly filled out all the information and clicked submit.

Consider these past seven years of my life, a complete waste.