My Wife's Face Is Inked on His Butt

That night, Annie came home past midnight, carrying the scent of another man's cologne on her. She pressed herself against me, her hands wandering over my body as if nothing atrocious had happened that afternoon.

A wave of nausea rose from my stomach. I grabbed her wrist and asked coldly, "Didn't you want a divorce? When is it happening?"

Annie paused, then let out a soft, dismissive laugh. "What, are you jealous? It was just for show—a little bit of fun. Why are you taking it so seriously?"

I shook her hand off. "Then leave me out of your fun. I'm done."

Her voice shot up an octave. "You're done? Luther, have I been too nice to you? You used to tolerate this just fine. Why the sudden change?"

That was because I no longer had to.

Faced with my silence, Annie softened her tone. "Alright, let's stop fighting. I promise you, Hudson will be the last one. I'll come back once I get bored. We'll settle down, have a kid, and live happily ever after. Cool?"

Wow. How shameless could she be? Who would even talk like that?

A harsh car horn suddenly blared from the street below. Annie's expression shifted instantly. She didn't even take the time to change out of her robe before snatching up her phone and hurrying downstairs.

"Alright, alright… I'm coming…" I heard her murmur into the receiver.

I stood by the second-floor window and watched her sprint out of the villa, ducking as she slipped into a flashy red Ferrari.

The last trace of attachment I held for her vanished the moment I looked away.

The next day, I went straight to the tattoo studio. I gathered all the design sketches I had worked on over the years and stacked them neatly on my senior apprentice's desk.

"From now on, Zach, you'll be running the studio."

Zach Young had been with me for five years—long enough to handle things on his own. He looked at me, his eyes reddening. "Where are you going, Mr. Clarke?"

"Just taking a break for a while," I said, patting his shoulder. I didn't offer further explanation.

The wind chime at the door jingled. Hudson was back.

The moment he stepped inside, he dropped to his knees in front of me. "Luther, please remove the tattoo for me."

He tilted his head up, his young, handsome face full of desperation. "She held me all night, crying, saying this tattoo is her personal mark. She begged me on her knees not to remove it…"

His voice choked, and his hand subconsciously brushed his hip. "But every time I remember she has a husband, I feel like a homewrecker! I must get it removed before I can look at myself in the mirror again!"

I couldn't tell if Hudson was acting or genuinely trying to cut ties with Annie. Regardless, it was clear she loved him. Annie had always been obsessed with her career, rarely displaying her feelings.

I remembered the time I had an asthma attack and nearly died in our bed; she had been indifferent, telling me to "just drink some warm water" before hanging up.

Now, all her patience, tenderness, and even her humility were being gifted to another man.

Honestly, I felt nothing. I was already numb from all the pain.

I was about to turn Hudson down when the system's voice rang out again.

[Alert: This is a mandatory quest. You must accept."

I closed my eyes, knowing there was no way to escape. "Fine. Get up."

I led Hudson into the procedure room and focused entirely on the work, removing the ink bit by bit. If I had to admit, he had excellent skin, and he healed fast. By the time I finished, there was almost no trace of Annie, aside from some slight redness and swelling.

"All done," I said, setting the tools down. "Don't get it wet for three days, and apply the ointment on schedule."

Hudson thanked me profusely and left.

I thought that would be the end of today's drama, but the real climax came in the dead of night. I was in the middle of a deep sleep when a sharp, stinging pain slapped across my face, jolting me awake.

Annie stood over the bed, her face like a mask of ice. "You disgust me, Luther."