Chapter 1

My husband, Julian, is an elite psychotherapist specializing in clinical hypnotherapy.

Six months ago, right after my mother passed away, I fell down the stairs and suffered a traumatic miscarriage.

My body eventually healed.

Yet, my mind felt hazy—as if crucial pieces of my memory had been wiped away. How had I fallen in the first place?

All I remembered was how deeply Julian loved me. He held me, crying over the toll the miscarriage took on my health, and swore we’d never try for kids again.

"Chloe, just rest at home. Let me take care of you forever."

I lived in that sweet, tender illusion.

Until tonight, when I unlocked his phone and saw the truth.

A stunning young girl. A sultry, provocative selfie.

“Booked the VIP suite tonight. I even put on that French maid outfit you love, Daddy ;)”

And my doting husband’s reply:

“You little vixen. As soon as she’s drugged to sleep, I’m all yours.”

I stared at the screen, my entire world freezing over.

With trembling fingers, I clicked into her Instagram page.

Nearly every post had traces of my husband.

A man's hand caressing her bare thigh. A shirtless man wearing only an apron, cooking in her kitchen.

Even the luxury gifts he had given me—she had the exact matching set for every single one.

...

My fingernails dug so deep into my palms that they bled, anchoring me from screaming out loud.

Snapping back to reality, I pulled out my own phone.

My hands shook violently as I screen-recorded everything. Julian was so confident that I trusted him blindly; he hadn't even bothered to delete their chats from the past two weeks.

Looking at their explicit exchanges and NSFW pictures, violent nausea surged up my throat.

The shower stopped running in the bathroom.

I scrambled to lock his phone and put it back, my mind racing with a chilling question: What did he mean by “drugged to sleep”?

Julian stepped out with a towel hung low on his hips. At thirty-two, time had only added a sharp, mature allure to his rugged jawline. In seven years of marriage, I had never doubted him once.

He walked over, tilting his head down like he always did, coaxing me to dry his hair.

"Babe, dry my hair for me? I'm exhausted."

I obeyed. My hands moved robotically, lifting the hairdryer.

Looking at his thick hair, a dark thought crossed my mind—I wanted to strangle him with the cord.

But I couldn't. Not yet. I had to know what really happened six months ago.

The hot air lingered in one spot for too long.

"Ouch!" Julian flinched and spun around.

A flash of pure annoyance flared in his eyes. But seeing my pale, dazed expression, he quickly wiped it away, pulling me into a warm embrace and kissing my temple.

"I’m sorry, Chloe. I’ve been so swamped with the clinic lately and neglected you. How about we take a trip next week, just the two of us?"

"No need, Julian," I said calmly. "You’re working hard to provide for us. It’s not like you’re out with other women. I understand."

A flicker of guilt flashed across his face. He changed the subject immediately.

"I’m beat. Let's go to bed." His hands slid down to my waist, tracing slow, suggestive circles.

He was testing the waters. Or maybe a pathetic part of me still wanted to test him.

I reached out, resting my hands on his chest. "Julian... maybe it's time we try for another baby."

His entire body went rigid beneath my touch.

He quickly pulled back, his tone forced. "Honey, I can't watch you go through that agony again. Give me time. When work calms down, I’m getting a vasectomy."

With that, he pulled away and slid into bed.

What a noble, devoted speech. If I hadn't seen his phone tonight, I’d still be worshiping him like a saint.

A moment later, he sat up. "Did you take your pills yet?"

For six months, he had handed me those pills every single night.

Because he was a licensed professional, I had swallowed them without question.

Tonight, I wouldn't.

I turned my back, tossed the pill into my mouth, and tipped my head back with a glass of water.

Seeing me swallow, he lay back down, satisfied.

Behind my back, the tiny pill was hidden securely inside my clenched fist. My veins ran ice-cold.