Betrayed By Husband, Loved By Billionaire

　　Married to Daniel Harper for nearly two years, I noticed he rarely had any physical needs. Ever since I got pregnant in early spring, he claimed he didn't want to hurt the baby and moved into the study to sleep. I'm only twenty-six; I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling lonely and frustrated.

　　One night, I even called a late-night relationship hotline. The expert on the line suggested that maybe Daniel had grown numb to seeing women's bodies, leading to a loss of passion. Daniel is an obstetrician, so it seemed like a plausible explanation. But there was one thing that kept bothering me—he always locked the study door behind him. We were the only two people in the house; who was he locking out? Me?

　　This suspicion gnawed at me, turning into an obsession. Finally, one day, while he was at work, I couldn't hold back anymore. I took the chance to sneak into his study.

　　The room was simple and neatly organized, and I could see everything at a glance. The only thing locked was the large drawer on his desk. I happened to have a spare key, something Daniel didn't know about. I kept the key as a backup, purely out of habit in case he ever lost his own, not because I intended to snoop through his things.

　　Inside the drawer, there was nothing but some office supplies. Relieved, I locked it back up and prepared to leave. But as I passed his bed, something caught my eye on his pillow: two long strands of curly, brown hair.

　　I don't dye my hair, and I rarely enter his study, so those hairs couldn't be mine. I glanced over at the trash bin by the bed, where used tissues gave off a certain unmistakable scent.

　　Could Daniel be hiding a woman in the house?

　　The thought sent a chill down my spine, and I broke out in a cold sweat. I quickly looked around the study, but there was nowhere anyone could hide. Was I overthinking this?

　　Besides, it didn't seem like something Daniel would do. If he wanted to cheat, he could easily go outside; why would he risk bringing someone home? Maybe the hair belonged to a coworker, or a patient's stray hair got on him somehow. Perhaps he was just... satisfying himself instead?

　　Still, the fact that he'd rather do that than be with me made me feel terrible.

　　Growing up, I had a difficult family situation. My father died in a car accident when I was ten, and my mother has been in a vegetative state ever since. A kind stranger, someone with the online alias "Sirius," sponsored my education, helping me through school. My childhood left me insecure and conservative; even with Daniel, my own husband, I couldn't completely let go in our intimate life.

　　That afternoon, as usual, I went grocery shopping. Passing by the wine section, on a whim, I picked up a bottle of red wine. Tonight was our second wedding anniversary, but he hadn't mentioned a thing. He didn't even come home until late.

　　Feeling a rush of conflicting emotions, I looked at the wine bottle on the table. My frustration pushed me to open it. By the time the clock hit 10:15, I heard the sound of the door unlocking. As soon as he stepped inside, I threw myself at him from the entryway. He caught me, frowning.

　　"You've been drinking?"

　　I clung to his neck, giving him a silly grin. "Just a little bit."

　　Daniel steadied me, scolding, "You're pregnant; you shouldn't be drinking."

　　Resting my head on his shoulder, I leaned into him, using the wine as an excuse to act spoiled. "I waited for you to have dinner, but you didn't come back. So, I ate by myself. And since it's our anniversary, I had a little red wine. It won't hurt the baby."

　　"You're drunk. I'll take you to bed."

　　He helped me into the bedroom and laid me down, but I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck, not letting him escape. With wine-scented breath, I whispered, "Kiss me, honey."

　　He stiffened, gave me a passive kiss, and then tried to pull away. "Kate, don't. We have to be careful for the baby."

　　I held him tightly, looking at him with a mix of longing and frustration. "You're a doctor. You know it's safe after the first trimester, as long as we're careful. Don't push me away."

　　But he did push me away, loosening his tie. "I'm going to take a shower."

　　I hadn't drunk much; I'm pregnant, and I know my limits. I'd just dabbed some wine on as if it were perfume.

　　From the bathroom came the sound of running water. About ten minutes later, the water stopped, and I heard his footsteps passing by the bedroom door without stopping. Then, I heard the study door close.

　　I lay in bed, struggling with my thoughts for over an hour, until I finally gathered the courage to slip on my earphones and open the wiretapping app on my phone.

　　That afternoon, while out grocery shopping, I'd bought a bugging device and hidden it in his study, under his bed. The study had soundproofing, so Daniel would never expect that I'd plant a listening device there.

　　Through the earphones, I heard familiar sounds. My nose tingled, and tears filled my eyes.

　　So, he really wasn't interested in my body anymore. He wanted me but still rejected me, breaking my heart all over again.

　　But what I heard next shocked me to my core.