My Husband's Betrayal on Our Tenth Anniversary

“And this paper rose—this was the first gift you gave me,” Killian said, holding the fragile keepsake gently. “Though, calling it a gift might be a stretch. You folded it, tossed it on the table, and I picked it up.”

He chuckled, a hint of embarrassment in his tone. “I remember I gave you 999 roses back then, and you refused them all. I convinced myself that this paper rose was your way of giving something back to me. Silly, wasn’t it?”

His eyes softened, a nostalgic light flickering in them, and for a brief moment, his handsome face radiated love—the kind that used to make my heart race.

I wanted to feel moved, to believe in the sincerity of the moment. But my gaze fell to his collarbone, where faint marks marred his skin.

I pointed, my voice calm but cutting. “Killian, why is your collarbone red?”

His reaction was instant—panic flashed across his face before he quickly buttoned his shirt all the way up, his hands fumbling. “Oh, that? Probably a mosquito bite. My neck’s been itchy all day, so I must have scratched it raw without realizing.”

I said nothing, just watched him in silence as he awkwardly fumbled through his excuse.

The smell of alcohol clung to him, and he announced that he was going to shower. But before he could leave, I stopped him.

“Killian,” I said, my voice steady, “do you remember the vows we made at our wedding?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Why are you asking this all of a sudden?”

Even so, he recited them smoothly. “When we become husband and wife, we are one in this life. Between you and me, there is no betrayal, no change of heart, and no deception.”

He hadn’t forgotten. For a fleeting second, I almost wondered if he still meant them.

Killian stepped closer, his lips brushing against my forehead in a soft kiss. His eyes, brimming with what seemed like love, locked onto mine. “Don’t worry, my wife. I will never betray you, let alone deceive you. This is my promise to you.”

His words lingered in the air, heavy with irony. Moments later, he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me alone in the living room.

Not long after, the doorbell rang.

I opened it, and standing on the other side was his assistant—Anastacia.

Anastacia stepped into the room, her emerald jewelry gleaming under the lights. She wore emerald earrings that caught the light with every movement, three necklaces draped around her neck, and emerald bracelets that glittered on her wrists. The large emeralds on her fingers only added to the display of wealth. As expected, the jewelry bought at 900 million was nothing short of breathtaking.

When she saw me, she made a show of lifting her hair, subtly allowing the jewelry to sparkle in my face.

With a saccharine smile, she spoke in a tone that dripped with insincerity. “I’m really sorry, Miss Penelope, to bother you so late at night. Mr. Barnes left a very important document at the company, and I have to bring it to him.”

As she handed over the document, the sweet, cloying scent of her perfume filled the air. It was the same fragrance Killian wore—an overbearing, feminine sweetness that made my stomach churn.

I felt a wave of disgust wash over me, but I said nothing. Instead, I kept my tone even. “He’s in the shower. You can come in and wait.”

I stepped aside to let her pass. As she walked by, she didn’t bother hiding the smug look on her face. She must have thought I hadn’t noticed, but I did.

Once inside, she casually placed the takeaway bag in her hand on the table.

“Oh, and there’s this,” she added nonchalantly. “Mr. Barnes didn’t eat much tonight. I brought him a midnight snack.”

She lingered on the word “do,” a barely noticeable smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, her eyes sparkling with an unmistakable challenge.

The brand on the takeaway bag caught my eye, and my heart sank—this was the French restaurant Killian had promised to take me to.

Anastacia didn’t leave much to the imagination. She was practically laying out the fact that they had spent the evening together—at the restaurant I was supposed to go to, in the car that was supposed to bring me, and now, she had even brought him a midnight snack.

If this had been before, I’m sure I would have lost control. I would have been furious, maybe even burst into tears, demanding to know what was going on, throwing the food at her and telling her to leave. I might have dragged Killian into the room and confronted him then and there.

But now, I simply felt numb.

I had reached a point where I wouldn’t waste my time being upset or angry about something like this. I had made my decision: I was ready to walk away.

"Oh, then you’re quite thoughtful," I said calmly, my voice betraying nothing.

Anastacia was about to say something else when suddenly, Killian poked his head out of the bathroom.

"Honey, why do I feel like there are a lot of things missing in the bathroom? Where’s your bottle of woody-scented shower gel? I can’t find it, and I was planning to use it to shower."

His words hung in the air. Of course, things were missing—because I had been cleaning up my belongings.

I didn’t answer, and then, in an instant, Killian’s expression turned cold.

"Anastacia? What are you doing here?"

His eyes widened, and his voice shot up in panic, sharp and piercing.

Anastacia pressed her lips together in a feigned pout, her eyes brimming with faux innocence. Before she could speak, I spoke up for her.

"You didn’t take the document, so she came to deliver it."

Anastacia nodded eagerly. "Yes, that document is for tomorrow’s meeting. It’s very important."

Killian, now in his bathrobe, stormed out of the bathroom, his wet hair dripping onto his shoulders. His expression was clouded with frustration.

Without a second thought, he turned to Anastacia, his tone sharp. "Take your documents and come upstairs with me to the study."

Then, his gaze softened as he turned to me. "Wife, it’s late. You should go to bed first. I’ll handle this and come back."

I nodded quietly, doing as he asked, and walked into the master bedroom. I even turned off the lights as I lay down.

Meanwhile, I could hear Killian and Anastacia walking into the study. The soft click of the door locking echoed through the quiet house.

The curtains were drawn, and everything was sealed off.

I stared at the study, now concealed behind closed doors and windows, and couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh.

Did he really think I didn’t know what was going on?

What he didn’t realize was that I had installed a camera in his study long ago.

I turned on the computer and accessed the camera feed from the study. What I saw on the surveillance screen almost made me sick.