Chapter 3: No Such Thing as a Free Lunch

"I'm here now, so you don't need the gift. I'll throw it out for you."

Adrian Cross reached out to snatch the flowers.

But Vivian Hale dodged him, watching his face turn from pale to a frustrated shade of crimson. In her heart, she found it both hilarious and pathetic to the extreme.

"My husband is so romantic, buying flowers specifically for me—how could I throw them away? I love them. I’m going to find a vase for them. These flowers are hard to come by; I want to keep them blooming for as long as possible."

Watching Vivian hold the bouquet with a look of shy happiness, Adrian felt like he was choking on his own rage.

He crumpled the card in his hand into a ball and threw it into the trash.

Did those two really sleep together?

He walked over to the sofa and sat down, asking with feigned casualness, "Vivian, do you remember what we did on White Valentine’s Day?"

Vivian’s movements as she arranged the flowers paused for a split second.

Half a month ago, on March 14th—just after the anniversary of her parents' death—she had been in a terrible mood. She had gotten drunk, lost her temper, and kept calling Adrian.

Near midnight, Adrian had suddenly returned.

He had given her a beautiful bracelet, and the look in his eyes had been surging with desire.

That night was her first time.

It was also the first time the stand-in had appeared.

A deep sense of irony flashed through her heart that he would even bring it up. She suppressed her emotions and cast a mockingly indignant look at the man.

"Honey, that was the night we took our relationship to the next level. How could I possibly forget?"

Adrian bolted upright.

"Next level?"

Seeing his face full of suppressed fury, Vivian felt a wave of satisfaction. She blinked her beautiful eyes and asked back, "Yes. You’ve been so busy since we got married, and that night was the first time we fell asleep in each other's arms. Have you forgotten?"

The man’s expression instantly fractured.

"I... of course I remember. And on your birthday, I held you all night then too, didn't I?"

The night of her birthday a few days ago was indeed the second time she had been with the stand-in.

This man certainly remembered the dates clearly.

She walked over with the flowers, placed them on the living room table, and smiled at him with captivating charm.

"Honey, if you only ever just held me to sleep, I’d really start to suspect that you aren't capable anymore."

As expected!

Those two had really done everything they weren't supposed to do behind his back!

Adrian clenched his fists tightly.

His rage had reached its boiling point. He had told him—he wasn't allowed to actually touch her.

Vivian leaned in close.

Her small hand hooked his tie, twisting it around her finger. "You were so pent up, yet you were worried about me because my period was coming, so you forced yourself to take a cold shower."

His emotions swinging wildly back and forth, Adrian nearly lost control.

With a surge of anger, he pulled her into his arms. All traces of his gentle, elegant facade vanished, replaced by a crude and frantic haste to strip her clothes.

Today, he was going to see for himself whether this woman had actually been with that man.

Vivian twisted her body, rubbing against him in his arms.

Once she felt the fire of his lust was lit, she pressed her small hands against his chest with a look of grievance.

"Honey, how can you not even remember my cycle? It seems tonight you'll have to take another cold shower. Once my period is over, we’ll go back to how it was before—I’ll obey your every wish."

She stood up and went upstairs, her hips swaying slightly as she left.

She left the man alone to struggle in the whirlpool of doubt over whether he had been cuckolded.

He felt like his chest was going to explode from rage.

He endured it until he couldn't anymore. He took out his phone and sent a message to a certain number.

"Did you and Vivian Hale actually sleep together?"

He waited for a full minute before a reply came back.

It was only a single, cold symbol:

"?"

Adrian furiously typed several lines, demanding a result.

But as he was about to hit send, he hesitated.

He and Lucien were twins. When they were a year old, Lucien was suddenly diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Fearing the loss of the family's prestige, the elder Mr. Cross kept him imprisoned at home, never even registering him for a household ID, claiming to the world that Adrian was his only son.

Later, their parents divorced.

Lucien took his mother's maiden name and went abroad with her, only recently returning.

Adrian had investigated him. Lucien moved through both the legal and illegal underworlds abroad; his methods were ruthless and his personality gloomy, yet he possessed a freakishly high intelligence. The wealth he had amassed was something even the Cross Group couldn't match.

His purpose for returning to the country was unknown.

The elder Mr. Cross was planning to use Lucien's influence to take the Cross Group to the next level. He had specifically warned Adrian not to anger him and to accommodate him in everything.

That day, Adrian had no choice. He had casually mentioned asking for a favor, and he hadn't expected Lucien to agree.

Questioning him now was indeed a bad move.

Thinking of this, Adrian suppressed his rage, deleted his angry text character by character, and re-edited it.

"Sorry, Brother. I just care about Vivian too much and overthought things. You don't need to pretend to be me for a while. I’ve almost finished the project at hand, so I’ll have time to be with Vivian from now on."

"By the way, when are you going back abroad? Before you leave, make sure Vivian doesn't run into you. It would affect our relationship."

He sent two messages in a row.

They were like stones dropped into the ocean; there was no further reply.

He went upstairs in a foul mood. Vivian had already fallen asleep.

Her breathing was steady as she curled obediently into the soft, large bed like a well-behaved kitten.

Her beautiful face looked even more soft and alluring under the orange glow of the bedside lamp.

He suddenly regretted letting Lucien act as his stand-in.

That night, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

Vivian, however, slept very comfortably.

Since this man could do such a thing, why should she make things easy for him?

Wanting to have his cake and eat it too—there was no such thing as a free lunch in this world.

When she woke up the next morning, Adrian was already gone.

The clothes he had changed out of were placed in the laundry basket nearby.

Adrian didn't like having many people in the house. After they married, he had dismissed all the servants.

For these three years, she alone had been responsible for the laundry, cooking, and cleaning.

The man had long since become accustomed to it, feeling it was only right.

Now, it seemed he viewed her more as a free maid.

Vivian walked over and hooked the collar of the shirt with one hand.

As she lifted it, it caught the trousers underneath, and a hair tie rolled out of the pocket.

It was adorned with a brightly colored decorative charm, oozing with youthful, vibrant energy.

It wasn't something she would ever use.

Her movements paused for a moment, a trace of loneliness flickering in her eyes, but she pretended to see nothing.

After finishing the laundry and tidying the bed, she went to the walk-in closet.

She didn't go out often and had never accompanied Adrian to a banquet. All the clothes in her wardrobe were casual wear.

She kept only what she needed for the current season, packed the rest, and sent it to a used clothing recycling station.

Just as she finished, the phone on the nightstand rang.

It was an unknown number.

She answered. It was the overseas company she had submitted her resume to, notifying her to go to the Washington D.C. branch for a preliminary screening interview.

If she passed, she could go to work at the global headquarters.

She changed into a more formal suit, applied light makeup, and hurried out with her resume.

After checking in at the front desk, she went directly to the elevator bank.

As the elevator doors slowly opened, she caught a glimpse of a face she knew all too well in her peripheral vision.

The man was wearing a bespoke suit and gold-rimmed glasses, standing coldly in a corner of the elevator with one hand in his pocket.

His sharp brows were slightly furrowed.

His emotions were entirely hidden behind long lashes, and his whole being radiated a chilling, lonely aura that warned others to stay away.

With just one look, she knew: this wasn't Adrian Cross, but his stand-in, Lucien!

As the doors opened and the man looked up, she hurriedly lowered her head, pretending not to have seen him. She stepped inside, and after pressing her floor number, she began focusing intently on her phone.

But that gaze—so hot it felt as if it could melt her—slowly settled on the top of her head.