Chapter 1

At the family banquet, a power-hungry male special assistant projected a dimly lit bed photo onto the massive screen. He claimed he had slept with my wife—the heiress to the family—and demanded I walk away from the marriage with nothing.

While all the relatives were waiting for me to become the laughingstock, my eyes landed on a red rose burn scar in the corner of the photo. I couldn't help but laugh out loud.

He hadn't even turned on the bedside lamp. He had no idea that the woman he had just slept with was actually the wife of a psychopathic serial killer.

Chapter 1  

Ding—

Ding ding ding—

Today was the third anniversary of my marriage to my wife. Ever since marrying into her family, I had been living the lifestyle of old money. Life was comfortable and blissful, save for occasionally having to deal with her annoying relatives.

This specific chime was the notification sound for their extended family group chat. I figured it was just another relative sharing some pseudo-scientific health tips.

Sitting at the edge of the round table, I casually tapped open my screen.

The next second, it was as if someone had hit the pause button on the elegant string quartet playing in the hall. A dead silence instantly enveloped the luxurious banquet hall.

Two files had popped up in the group chat, one after another.

The first: Financial Report for the $1 Billion M&A and Core Asset Deep-Binding Agreement.

The second was a rather dimly lit bed photo—but clear enough to make the pupils of every old-money family member dilate in shock.

Tangled limbs on messy silk bedsheets.

In the faint light, the man’s side profile wore an intoxicated expression. It was Julian, the family’s most up-and-coming special assistant.

Beneath him, with her back to the camera, was a woman flaunting the family's signature dazzling blonde hair.

She looked exactly like my wife!

The silver knife I was using to cut my steak stopped frozen mid-air.

This had all happened without warning.

I immediately looked up at my wife, Eleanor, who was sitting across the long table. Still holding her champagne flute, her knuckles had turned completely white. Her eyes were filled with extreme astonishment and fury. She stared dead at her phone screen, so shocked she missed a breath. Through gritted teeth, she mouthed to me in a lip-sync only we understood: "That's not me!"

Tap, tap, tap~

Accompanied by the crisp sound of leather shoes clicking against the marble stairs, the sender of the files, Julian, appeared on the circular staircase on the second floor.

He pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, looking down haughtily at the hall, unable to suppress the arrogant smirk on his face.

"Members of the board, I apologize for spoiling the mood like this at the banquet celebrating Eleanor’s third year taking over the family business."

"But as the financial report shows, I have secured a one-billion-dollar merger for the family. However, Wall Street’s condition is that the core assets must be deeply tied to the heir holding actual power."

Julian raised his champagne glass, his gaze sweeping the room without the slightest evasion. "In this process, Miss Eleanor and I have not only reached a high-frequency consensus in our business vision, but also physically."

Whoosh—

The entire hall exploded into an uproar.

Everyone instinctively looked at the leading lady of the night—my wife, Eleanor.

Julian downed his champagne in one gulp, making no effort to hide his ambition to usurp power. In an incredibly hypocritical tone of pity, he questioned me, "Arthur, you are a good-tempered man, but you don't understand capital. You and Miss Eleanor have nothing in common to talk about."

"What she needs is a man who can conquer territories and expand her empire, not you."

"You've enjoyed three years of a carefree, luxurious life in this house. You've had your fair share of blessings. Now, it's time for you to leave with dignity."

A wave of emotion instantly surged in my heart.

For three years, I had been secretly plotting a total commercial crushing of my rivals, but I never expected this mad dog Julian to suddenly throw out such a bottomless photo to force an abdication at our anniversary banquet.

Just as my eyes turned completely freezing and I was about to stand up and retaliate, my gaze accidentally swept across a shadowed corner of the photo on my screen.

Wait... the lower back of that woman...

In an instant, the shock and anger in my eyes receded like the tide, replaced by an extremely absurd, icy smile.

My tense shoulders slowly relaxed, and I leaned back into my chair.

After a brief dead silence, the relatives in the hall quickly snapped back to reality.

For a family in desperate need of massive liquid capital to expand, "one billion dollars" was enough for them to immediately throw away all sense of morality and shame.

But as an old-money family, their venom never required dirty words; they used the most hypocritical "consideration".

Second Uncle sighed, leaning back against his velvet chair. He sounded earnest, but his eyes were filled with the secret thrill of watching me become a joke.

"Arthur, no one feels good when something like this happens. You’ve been wronged. But marriages in wealthy families must prioritize the big picture. This one billion is the family's lifeblood, after all. As a man, you need to be broad-minded. You have to let it go."

Third Aunt pretended to dab at the corners of her eyes, but her voice betrayed uncontainable excitement. "Oh my, what a mess. But Arthur, leaving this family means you're finally free. Given your decent behavior these past three years, the legal team will surely give you an extra two million in compensation. It’s enough to buy a villa back in your hometown. Don't be too sad."

My cousin walked over, lightly patted my shoulder, and handed me half a glass of wine with fake sympathy. "Brother, being cuckolded hurts no matter who you are. But Julian can pull in a billion dollars. We have to admit the difference between you two, right? Drink this to calm your nerves, and hurry out the side door to catch a cab. Don't make things too awkward for everyone here."

One by one, the seemingly comforting words—which actually sought to trample my dignity into the dirt—were hurled at me.

They looked at me as if I were a scrambling clown finally being swept out the door.

My mother-in-law, sitting at the head of the table, finally uncrossed her legs.

She cast a faint glance at the financial report Julian had sent to the group. The deep-seated greed instantly pierced through her facade of decency.

"Arthur, the elders are right. The big picture is what matters," my mother-in-law said, her voice caustic and absolute. "Since Julian and Eleanor have already reached this point, we cannot afford any mishaps with the billion-dollar funding. Tonight's farce ends here. Pack your personal belongings and walk out on your own. Don't force me to call security and humiliate you."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Julian haughtily lifted his chin, acting as if he had already grasped the scepter of power.

But I didn't break down or weep bitterly as they secretly anticipated.

I put down the silver fork in my hand, ignored the wine my cousin offered, and walked straight to the control console on one side of the banquet hall.

"Arthur, what are you doing? Save the last bit of dignity for yourself!" My mother-in-law frowned.

I ignored her. I unplugged the audio cable from the console and forcefully cast my phone's screen onto the giant LCD video wall that took up half the hall.

Flash.

The dim bed photo Julian had sent was projected onto the big screen without reservation.

The massive, high-definition image crashed down on everyone in the hall with an overwhelming sense of oppression.

"Are you crazy?! Turn it off!" Julian grimaced, looking at me as if I were an insane loser.

I picked up an infrared presenter pointer from the console, stood upright, and turned to face these hypocritical leeches who kept preaching about "the big picture."

"Julian, before you let this so-called 'one-billion-dollar merger' make everyone dizzy, you shouldn't have tricked even me, Eleanor’s husband, into your illusion."

I raised my hand and pressed the zoom button on the pointer.

The photo on the hall's video wall focused and magnified instantly.

The red dot of the laser, like the crosshairs of a sniper rifle, locked onto the edge of the photo—deep in the exposed lower back of the blonde woman.

"You pride yourself on being a new Wall Street elite with a sharp eye. But before you presumptuously declare your sovereignty and try to skin me alive..." The corners of my mouth curled into a cruel mockery, "...at the very least, you should have turned on the light to take a good look at who exactly the woman lying in the same bed with you was."

The relatives in the hall, who had just been secretly enjoying the show, froze and were forced to look up.

Under the extremely magnified high-definition screen, on the edge of the woman’s exposed lower back curving with her spine, there was shockingly a very clear, old burn scar.

It looked like a twisted, ugly dark red rose vine, glaringly entrenched on her snow-white skin.

"I share a bed with my wife every day. Eleanor's back is as smooth and flawless as jade."

My voice struck the hearts of everyone in the dead-silent hall, beat by beat.

"And within this family, everyone knows whose signature mark this special 'red rose burn scar' is. Right, Aunt Bellis?"

Crash—

As if in response to my words, a tragic, crisp shatter suddenly came from the corner of the VIP section.

Aunt Bellis dropped her crystal wine glass onto the carpet, shattering it to pieces.

Her bewildered face looked about eighty to ninety percent identical to my wife’s.

The relatives who had just been hypocritically urging me to "focus on the big picture" were utterly dumbfounded.

My cousin spilled his half-glass of wine straight onto his trousers; Second Uncle's previously shrewd face now looked as if he had swallowed a fly; my mother-in-law even stood up abruptly, staring in horror from the screen to Aunt Bellis.

In this circle, sleeping with the heir was a good show of scrambling for power.

But sleeping with Aunt Bellis... that was basically pressing the detonator on a ticking time bomb.