She hesitated for a moment before asking, “Can I help you?” “Please, don’t mind my employer. She’s never been the sharpest.” Su Xiaohui was speechless. So that was it. He was worried she'd call the police. Besides, it sounded less like an apology and more like he was just bad-mouthing her. Was it really okay to talk about his employer that way? Wasn't he afraid she'd repeat it all to the woman? As if reading her mind, a smirk tugged at the corner of Wen Zhao’s mouth. “If she had any sense, she wouldn't have waited for the other woman to show up on her doorstep to realize her husband was keeping a mistress. And she certainly wouldn't be foolishly planning to have his children after he's already cleaned out their entire savings.” “Even now, all she can think about is punishing the mistress, not how to deal with her own scumbag husband.” “So you tell me—if that's not brain damage, what is?” Su Xiaohui was, once again, at a loss for words. She had finally witnessed what people called a sharp tongue. This man was really something else. Though she was ranting in her head, Su Xiaohui didn't let a hint of it show on her face as she spoke. “I understand,” she said. “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word.” Wen Zhao gave a curt nod. His eyes lingered on her for a moment before he asked casually, “Has your own situation been resolved?” A flush of embarrassment crept up her neck as she remembered grabbing him the other night, desperately asking if he was a cop or a lawyer. She nodded. “It’s resolved. It was all a misunderstanding.” At this, Wen Zhao raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twisting into that same mocking smirk. “Some things are better investigated thoroughly.” With that, he rose and started for the door. “I may be expensive,” he added over his shoulder, “but you get what you pay for.” “Contact me when you're ready.” By the time he finished speaking, he was already out the door. “Tsk!” Su Xiaohui clicked her tongue, dismissing Wen Zhao’s words. She couldn't imagine a single scenario where she would ever need to contact him. The thought might have crossed her mind two days ago, but when it came down to it, she trusted her husband and her best friend far more than some stranger. … The weekend arrived quickly. First thing in the morning, Zhou Sen said, “Honey, Mom and Dad are missing Lele. They want us to bring her over for the day.” It was their eighth wedding anniversary, and ever since her conversation with Zhang Qiu, Su Xiaohui had been eagerly awaiting this day. She understood his intentions immediately. He wanted to send their daughter away so they could have some time to themselves. Playing dumb, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll pack some of Lele’s toys and books.” With that, she went into the playroom to pack. She grabbed the little tiger backpack her daughter rarely used, intending to stuff a few toys inside. As she zipped it up, something felt off. There seemed to be an object in the inner compartment. She felt around, then unzipped the compartment. Inside was a bank card, along with the new card paperwork and a deposit slip. The deposit slip was printed in formal characters: Sixteen Million. Su Xiaohui’s heart plummeted. Zhou Sen had indeed prepared for the day. He’d made dinner reservations, bought movie tickets, and even, on the way home, pulled a move straight out of a TV drama, claiming he couldn't carry everything and asking her to grab something from the trunk. When she opened it, she found a bouquet of fresh flowers and a box bearing the logo of a luxury brand. Every detail was a testament to his thoughtfulness. If she hadn't seen that deposit slip in the morning, Su Xiaohui would have considered their eighth anniversary absolutely perfect. But now, she couldn't get the image of that sixteen-million-dollar deposit slip out of her head. Even more vivid was the memory of her husband rushing into the playroom that morning, and the look of sheer relief in his eyes when he saw she was packing their daughter’s usual little backpack. That look on his face was all the proof she needed. The deposit slip was real. What she couldn't understand was where her husband had gotten that kind of money. And why were both he and Zhang Qiu lying to her? On the drive, the question burned on the tip of her tongue a thousand times, but she could never bring herself to ask. Even when she saw the thoughtful gifts her husband had prepared, she didn't feel happiness. She felt fear. How had her husband managed to hide all of this so flawlessly? What else was he hiding from her?