The night in Manhattan was thick, and in the VIP booth of the private club "Eden," a champagne tower shimmered with a decadent golden glow. Sebastian sat in the center of the leather sofa, his tie long since loosened, swirling half a glass of whiskey in his hand. Mia was curled up in his arms like a docile Persian cat, her fingers toying with the buttons on his shirt. "Sebastian, you were so handsome tonight," Mia cooed, holding her phone in her other hand. The screen displayed a news image of the twelve-million-dollar Monet *Water Lilies*. "For me, you even tossed that famous painting to the back of your mind. That old woman must be furious right now, right?" The friends around them erupted in laughter. "Come on, Mia. How could a woman like Elena ever go 'furious'? She's like a precision robot, only capable of saying 'Yes, Sebastian,' 'It's fine, Sebastian.'" The speaker was Sebastian's college classmate and one of the firm's partners, Lucas. He had his arm around a young model, his tone dripping with disdain. "Honestly, Sebastian, I really admire that you could tolerate her for ten years. If it were me, facing that face that's always dignified but completely devoid of sex appeal, I'd have gone limp long ago." "Exactly," another chimed in, his gaze sweeping suggestively over Mia. "Mia's type of little wild cat is much more exciting. That 'bitter flesh trick' at the hospital entrance earlier was acted so well even I felt bad. Only a fool like Elena would believe it." So, the so-called "stomach ache" was nothing more than a lie Mia concocted to get Sebastian to leave the gala. Sebastian frowned, seemingly feeling a twinge of displeasure at his friends mocking Elena so explicitly. "Alright, don't talk about her." He tipped his head back and downed a mouthful of strong liquor, trying to suppress the inexplicable irritation rising in his chest. "Elena is a perfect wife. She manages the household very well, leaving me with no worries." "A perfect housekeeper, you mean?" Lucas corrected with a loud laugh. "Brother, admit it. You keep her for your public face, and you keep Mia for your private pleasure. Only you have the skill to enjoy the best of both worlds." Hearing this, Mia didn't get angry; instead, she lifted her chin triumphantly and blew gently into Sebastian's ear. "Master, are they right? Am I your 'private pleasure'?" Sebastian looked at the face in his arms, full of desire and vitality—an expression Elena never had. Catalyzed by the alcohol, he pinched Mia's chin and planted a heavy kiss on her red lips. "You are the addiction I can't quit." The booth erupted in cheers once again. Just then, Lucas proposed playing "Spin the Bottle." The bottle mouth stopped, unsurprisingly, in front of Sebastian. "Truth or Dare?" "Truth," Sebastian answered lazily. A glint of mischief flashed in Lucas's eyes. "When was the last time you slept with Elena?" The air solidified for a second. Sebastian's movements paused. He tried to recall, but found his memory blurred as if separated by a fog. A month? Two months? Or half a year? Ever since Mia appeared, he had lost interest in Elena's body. Every time he went home and saw her sitting by the bedside reading in her conservative silk pajamas, he felt bored and just wanted to fall asleep immediately. "...I don't remember," he answered honestly. "Hahahaha!" Lucas slapped his thigh, laughing wildly. "See! I told you! Then what about with Mia?" Sebastian hooked the corner of his mouth, his eyes darkening, his palm sliding down the curve of Mia's waist. "Last night. In front of the floor-to-ceiling window in my office." Mia blushed and buried her head in his chest, unable to hide the triumph in the corners of her eyes. "Legend!" Everyone raised their glasses in tribute. No one knew that in the corner of the booth, inside an inconspicuous Bluetooth speaker, a faint red light was blinking. It was something Elena had quietly left there a week ago, using the excuse of delivering documents to Sebastian for a friend. At this very moment, in the First Class Lounge at JFK International Airport. Elena wore noise-cancelling headphones, holding a glass of lemon water, listening expressionlessly to the laughter and filth coming through the feed. Every word was like a rusty saw, cutting through the last remnants of her affection. So, in their eyes, her dignity was boredom, her tolerance was stupidity, and her devotion was nothing more than expected housekeeping service. "Attention passengers, flight LX015 to Zurich is now boarding..." The announcement sounded. Elena took off the headphones and tossed the phone connected to the listening device into the trash can. Just like throwing away a moldy life. She stood up, adjusted the collar of her trench coat, and walked toward the boarding gate without looking back. Goodbye, you nauseating creatures.