When My Agent Wife Betrayed Me, I Faked My Death to Escape

Then the blast wave hit. The force was so immense that she stumbled, momentarily losing consciousness.

When I woke up, the sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air. My arm throbbed, and my head pounded, but I was alive. Bianca, the First Captain, stood nearby, her posture stiff, her expression unreadable. “You’re awake,” she said curtly, exhaling a breath she must have been holding.

Her voice turned colder, almost scolding. “A mild concussion, a nasty bruise on your arm—you’ll recover soon. But don’t think you’re off the hook for this one.”

I chuckled weakly, wincing as the movement tugged at my wounds. That was Bianca Gardner for you. Even after all these years, she hadn’t changed—sharp-tongued and fiercely protective in her own twisted way. As she began reporting the mission results to her superiors, I closed my eyes, letting the weight of the day settle over me. Everything had gone according to plan. Or rather, this plan had been set in motion long ago.

***

Carter had been a plant from the very beginning. It was a fact that shocked even the upper echelons of the General Administration, though what surprised them more was how easily Scarlett fell for such a basic ploy. She claimed to love me, yet she betrayed me without hesitation. She climbed into another man’s bed, indulging her desires as though our vows meant nothing. That betrayal had sealed her fate.

Our five-year marriage was nothing more than a weapon now—a tool to dismantle the enemy from within. Scarlett became the perfect pawn. Through her, we fed false intelligence to Carter, who in turn delivered it to his superiors. Bit by bit, their organization crumbled under the weight of their own missteps.

Today’s mission had been the final act. From the moment I stepped into that enemy-controlled command room, the operation was already underway. The attacks on the periphery were nothing more than a diversion, designed to clear a path for me to infiltrate the heart of their base and transmit the precise coordinates.

By the time Scarlett and her team entered the warehouse, the enemy’s leader had already been dealt with—by my own hand. Of course, no one else knew that. The official report would credit Scarlett with the kill, painting her as a hero to shield me from potential retaliation.

When we’d devised the plan, Bianca had been adamant, her voice brimming with disdain. “It’s her honor to be your scapegoat,” she’d said, her tone cutting. “If she didn’t still have some use, I would’ve shot her myself.”

I didn’t respond then. There was nothing to say. Because deep down, I knew she was right.