The Man She Fooled

On the very day I sold my company shares to raise money for my wife’s medical treatment, my phone flashed with a notification about a trending post.

"My husband or my lover, which should I choose?"

An anonymous reply shot to the top of the comments.

"Why choose? I want both."

What followed was a casual, shameless confession. A staged car accident right after the wedding, a fake overseas treatment plan, parents who helped maintain the lie, and millions siphoned off under the excuse of life-saving medical fees. The money was never for treatment. It funded luxury vacations, hotel suites, and a long-term affair.

Someone asked if she was afraid her husband would find out.

Her answer was chilling.

"Why would I be afraid? He thinks he took my first time and swore to take responsibility for me forever. He doesn’t know it was just a repair surgery I did for his sake."

The post ended with a vacation photo. A woman in a bikini, smiling under the sun. And on her waist, a tattoo with the letters 'NG.'

The same tattoo worn by my wife.

The office heating was turned up high, yet I felt as if I fell into an ice cellar.

I could never mistake the NG tattoo on that woman's waist.

It was inked on our second anniversary.

Gwendolyn Sanders made me angry back then, and she got that tattoo just to placate me.

"Darling, our names are tied together now."

"From now on, I'm yours. We'll never be separated."

The anonymous post continued to reply to comments.

[I wonder when my idiot husband will finish selling his shares and wire the money over. I'm booking a themed hotel room so my lover and I can spend the night together. He even prepared a whole drawer of condoms, we're using every single one tonight.]

When someone questioned her, she even posted a photo as proof.

In the picture, shredded stockings and lingerie were scattered all over the floor. And the two hands accidentally captured in the frame were ones I would recognize for the rest of my life.

They belonged to Gwendolyn and her male subordinate, Nicholas Hoffman.

For the past three months, I sold my house to help her 'raise medical expenses.'

I took on debt and even considered selling my shares.

The reason she did all this was simply to go on vacation with her lover.

The anonymous post continued.

[Someone asked whether I love my husband or my lover more. Of course, it's my lover. The tattoo on my waist is of his name and mine. My husband is dumb enough to think it's his.]

[But when it comes to marriage, you still need someone who washes your clothes, cooks your meals, and gives unconditionally. A lover isn't suited for that kind of dirty work.]

Those words felt like invisible hands tightening around my heart.

So she married me only because I was her obedient lapdog.

When Mr. Walsh handed me the share transfer agreement, my father-in-law and mother-in-law called.

"Nathan Rivera, have you sold the shares yet? Gwen is counting on this money to save her life."

For three months, this couple put on an over-the-top performance right in front of me.

I crumpled the papers in my hand.

"Mom, Dad, tell me the truth. Is Gwendolyn's illness really beyond saving?"

Their voices instantly turned flustered.

My father-in-law tried to smooth things over first.

"Nathan, you know her illness is like a bottomless pit. How could it be cured so easily?"

I let out a cold laugh, feeling chilled to the bone.

So it was true. All of it.

After hanging up, I said to Mr. Walsh, "I'm not selling the shares."

I sold my antique calligraphy and paintings instead, scraping together three million and transferring it to my in-laws.

The shares, I would not sell.

As for the act, I would continue playing with Gwendolyn.

When the day came that she 'recovered and returned.'

I would settle this account with her properly.

…

Three days later, Gwendolyn came back.

The moment she walked through the door, she threw herself into my arms, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Darling, thank you for never giving up on me. My surgery was a success."