My office fell into a heavy silence.
Emily's eyes reddened as tears suddenly streamed down her face.
"Are you really going to lie to my face like this, Chris?!" she cried. "If you were tired of me, you could've just said so! You didn't have to make up something this disgusting!"
I stood there, stunned.
What… is going on?
My mind was spinning, trying to grasp what was happening. Then a thought suddenly crossed my mind.
My phone.
There was a picture. I remembered it clearly—Emily and Ethan together. I had even taken a screenshot of it.
My hand moved immediately, pulling my phone from my pocket as I opened the gallery.
I scrolled quickly.
Then slower.
Then again.
My brows slowly furrowed.
"…It's gone?"
I searched again.
And again.
"Where did it go?"
At this point, my confusion matched hers. Nothing made sense anymore.
"What the hell is going on here…?"
I suddenly raised my voice.
"Max!"
My assistant hurried into the office.
The tension in the room was suffocating. Emily stood across from me with tear-stained cheeks while I clutched my phone like it was the only thing anchoring me to reality.
"Search for this guy again," I ordered.
I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down the name.
Ethan Jones.
"He has black hair," I continued, forcing myself to recall every detail. "Blue eyes… narrow ones that always made him look like he was plotting something. Around six foot four. American-Chinese and…"
I hesitated.
"…and annoyingly handsome."
My voice dropped at the end.
"Right away, sir." Max nodded quickly before leaving the office.
Silence returned.
I cleared my throat.
"Ahem… sit."
I gestured toward the chair across from my desk.
Emily hesitated before slowly sitting down. Her eyes were still swollen from crying, but now she looked at me with something different.
Concern.
"Chris…" she said quietly. "What did you mean earlier?"
I frowned.
"When you said you don't know Ethan," I continued. "Explain that."
She studied my face carefully, as if trying to read something hidden behind it.
"…Chris," she said slowly, "you're not… schizophrenic, right?"
"What? No!"
The answer came out immediately.
There was no hesitation in my voice.
No way.
I wasn't crazy.
But the way she looked at me—like she was worried about my mental health—made my chest tighten with irritation.
"Stop looking at me like that," I snapped. "I know what happened."
Her brows knitted together.
"You cheated on me, Emily," I continued, my voice rising. "You and Ethan! I saw it with my own eyes!"
Her lips trembled.
"You were pregnant with his child," I added bitterly. "Seven months along when you told me you were leaving."
Silence filled the room.
Emily's face slowly paled.
"I can't believe this…" she whispered.
Her voice cracked.
"You're accusing me of something I didn't do."
For a brief moment, something twisted painfully in my chest.
I could see it clearly.
I had hurt her.
Deeply.
But—
I clenched my fists.
No.
I know what I saw.
"Damn it!" I slammed my fist onto the wooden desk.
The sound echoed across the office.
Emily flinched.
Without another word, she stood up.
Then she walked to the door.
Before leaving, she glanced back at me once—her eyes filled with disappointment.
Then she slammed the door shut behind her.
The office fell silent again.
Because of what she said… something began creeping into my mind.
A doubt I didn't want to acknowledge.
Later that night, I sat alone in my house, staring at my phone.
"I'm sure I saved it…"
My fingers moved anxiously across the screen.
"I'm not schizophrenic, damn it."
I searched my gallery again.
Nothing.
Then suddenly—
I froze.
I remembered.
I had moved the picture.
To my private gallery.
My heartbeat quickened as I opened the hidden folder.
And there it was.
The photo.
Emily standing close to Ethan.
His arm around her waist.
His lips pressed against hers.
And her stomach…
Clearly swollen.
Seven months pregnant.
"I knew it," I muttered under my breath.
"I wasn't imagining things."
Without wasting another second, I called her.
She picked up after a few rings.
"I found it," I said immediately. "The evidence."
There was a brief pause on the other end.
"Text me your address," I continued. "I'll bring it to you."
She sounded hesitant, but curiosity eventually won.
A message soon arrived with her address.
I grabbed my car keys and left.
The engine roared to life as I drove toward her house.
My mind was racing the entire way.
Something about this whole situation felt wrong.
Very wrong.
Was she pretending?
Was this some kind of elaborate lie?
I tapped my fingers impatiently against the steering wheel.
Then—
A blinding light suddenly flooded my vision.
"What the fu—"
THUD!
The impact came before I could finish the sentence.
The airbag exploded open, slamming into my chest.
My head spun violently.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Then I felt it.
A strange… coldness spreading through my stomach.
Slowly, I lowered my gaze.
A bamboo pole.
One of the sharpened poles from the truck's cargo had pierced straight through my abdomen.
Blood was already soaking through my clothes.
My strength began fading rapidly.
With the last bit of consciousness I had left, I forced my head up.
My eyes locked onto the truck driver.
At first, I thought I was hallucinating.
But then—
The man behind the wheel smiled.
A slow, twisted smile.
My pupils shrank.
Shock turned into something far worse.
Horror.
"…Ethan…"
The word slipped weakly from my lips.
And with that—
Darkness swallowed everything.