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 grab the flowers.

But Vivian Hale leaned away, avoiding his grasp. Looking at the man’s face, which was turning a bruised shade of blue and red with suppressed rage, she felt a mix of intense amusement and profound tragedy.

"My husband is so romantic to buy me flowers; how could I possibly throw them away? I love them. I’m going to find a vase for them. These flowers are hard to find, and I want them to stay in bloom for as long as possible."

Watching Vivian hold the bouquet with a shy, blissful expression, the man felt as though he were choking on his own bile.

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

Did those two really sleep together?

He walked over to the sofa and sat down, trying to sound casual.

"Vivian, do you remember what we did on White Valentine's Day?"

Vivian’s movements as she arranged the bouquet faltered for a split second.

Half a month ago, on March 14th, right after the anniversary of her parents' death, she had been in a terrible mood. She had gotten drunk, thrown a fit, and called Adrian repeatedly.

Near midnight, Adrian had suddenly returned.

He had given her a beautiful bracelet, and the way he looked at her was surging with desire.

That night was her first time.

It was also the first night the substitute appeared.

She hadn't expected him to bring it up. A deep sense of irony flashed through her heart.

Suppressing her thoughts, she turned to look at him with feigned indignation.

"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 expression—a mix of fury and forced restraint—Vivian felt a surge of satisfaction. She blinked her beautiful eyes and asked, "Yes. You’ve been so busy since we got married, and that was the first night we slept in each other's arms. Have you forgotten?"

The man’s composure shattered instantly.

"I... of course I remember. And on your birthday, I held you all night too, right?"

Her birthday a few days ago had indeed been the second time she slept with the substitute.

This man certainly had a clear memory of the schedule.

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 while we slept, I’d really start to wonder if you were impotent."

As expected!

Those two had really done everything behind his back!

Adrian clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white.

Rage had reached his boiling point.

He had explicitly told him—he wasn't allowed to actually touch her.

Vivian leaned in close.

Her small hand toyed with his tie, winding it around her fingers. "You were so frustrated, but you were worried about me because my period was coming, so you forced yourself to take a cold shower instead."

The constant emotional seesaw was driving Adrian toward a total breakdown.

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

He had to see today—he had to know if this woman had actually been with that man.

Vivian rubbed against him in his arms.

Just as the fire was reaching a peak, she pushed her small hands against his chest with a look of grievance.

"Honey, how can you not even remember my cycle? It looks like you'll have to take another cold shower tonight. Once my period is over, we can go back to how things were. I'll do whatever you want."

With that, she stood up and swayed her hips as she walked upstairs.

She left the man alone, trapped in a swirling vortex of doubt over whether he had been betrayed or not.

His chest felt like it was about to explode with rage.

He tried to endure it, but he couldn't.

He pulled out his phone and sent a message to a certain number.

"Did you sleep with Vivian Hale?"

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

It was just a single, cold symbol.

"?"

Adrian furiously typed out several lines, demanding an answer.

But when he went to hit send, he hesitated.

He and Silas Vance were twins. When they were a year old, Silas was suddenly diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Fearing it would bring shame to the family name, Adrian's father had kept him imprisoned at home. He wasn't even registered in the census; the world was told that Adrian was an only child.

Later, their parents divorced.

Silas Vance took his mother’s maiden name and went abroad with her. He had only recently returned.

Adrian had investigated him. Silas moved through both the legal and criminal underworlds abroad; he was ruthless and morose, yet possessed an incredibly high IQ. The wealth he had accumulated surpassed even the Cross Group.

His motives for returning were unknown.

Adrian’s father was planning to use him to take the Cross Group to the next level.

He had specifically warned Adrian not to anger him and to accommodate his every wish.

That day, Adrian had no choice. He had casually mentioned a favor, and to his surprise, Silas had agreed.

Questioning him now was truly a bad idea.

At this thought, Adrian suppressed his anger, deleted the message letter by letter, and re-edited it.

"Sorry, brother. I care about Vivian too much and let my imagination run wild. You don't need to pretend to be me for a while. I’ve finished most of the work on my current project, so I’ll have time to spend with her myself."

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

He sent the two messages in a row.

But they were like stones dropped into the ocean; there was no reply.

He went upstairs in a foul mood. Vivian was already lying down, asleep.

Her breathing was steady, and she was curled up obediently in the soft bed like a well-behaved cat.

Under the amber glow of the bedside lamp, her beautiful face looked even more soft and enchanting.

He suddenly regretted letting Silas be his substitute.

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

Vivian, however, slept soundly.

Since this man was capable of such things, why should she make life easy for him?

He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. There was no such thing as a free lunch.

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

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

Adrian didn't like having many people in the house.

After they got married, he had dismissed all the servants.

For these three years, the laundry, cooking, and cleaning had all been her responsibility.

The man had long since grown accustomed to it, taking it as his due.

Looking at it now, he treated her more like a free maid.

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

As she pulled it up, it dragged the trousers beneath it, and a hair tie rolled out of the pocket.

It was adorned with a bright, colorful pendant—vibrant and youthful.

It wasn't something she would ever use.

Her movements paused, and a flicker of loneliness crossed her eyes, though her face remained impassive.

After washing the clothes and tidying the bed, she went to the walk-in closet.

She didn't go out often and had never accompanied Adrian to a gala.

The closet was filled mostly with casual clothes.

She kept only what she needed for the current season and packed everything else into bags, sending them to a clothing recycling station.

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

It was an unknown number.

She answered. It was the overseas company she had applied to, inviting her to a screening interview at their Capital City branch.

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

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

After checking in at the reception desk, she went straight to the elevators.

As the elevator doors slowly slid open.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a face she knew all too well.

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 hidden behind his long lashes, and he radiated a cold, lonely aura that warned people not to approach.

With just one glance, she knew. This wasn't Adrian. It was Adrian’s substitute!

As the doors opened and the man looked up, she hurriedly lowered her head, pretending not to see him. She stepped inside, pressed the floor button, and began intently scrolling through her phone.

But a burning gaze, one that felt as if it could melt her, slowly settled on the top of her head.