Chapter 8: Are You Testing Me on Purpose?

Inside the cozy, candlelit restaurant, Adrian Cross and Tiffany Rose sat opposite each other.

The man’s large, well-defined hand was gently wiping a smudge of sauce from the corner of the woman’s mouth.

His posture was intimate, and the doting look in his eyes seemed ready to overflow.

Vivian Hale couldn't help but let out a cold sneer.

As expected, Adrian had gone to dinner with Tiffany.

Yet, gazing at the handsome man in the photo who treated Tiffany like a precious treasure, her mood remained far from pleasant.

Once upon a time, Adrian had treated her as the pearl of his palm as well.

He had cherished her so much he feared she would melt in his mouth or break in his hands.

With just a word from her, the man would drop a hundred-billion-dollar contract to rush home early just to have dinner with her.

Now, things had changed, and the past was dead.

Vivian composed her emotions.

Now was not the time for nostalgia.

She carefully saved the photo and replied to Pearl’s message.

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

...

One o'clock in the morning.

Vivian was still packing her things; she had assumed Adrian wouldn't return tonight.

After all, the waiter from the restaurant had sent her the bill, and both he and Tiffany had drunk quite a bit of wine.

To her surprise, just as she had finished most of her packing, a sudden roar of a car engine sounded outside.

Immediately after, the front door was opened.

Vivian looked over and, with a single glance, knew exactly who it was.

His suit was disheveled, and the strong scent of alcohol was mixed with the cloying sweetness of women's perfume.

Catching sight of Vivian in the middle of the living room, Adrian smiled.

"Wife, I’m back to be with you."

It was the real Adrian Cross.

Suppreing her disgust, Vivian steadied her heart and walked forward with feigned concern to support him.

"Honey, why did you drink so much tonight? Rest for a moment while I go get a hot towel for you."

It seemed she had to move out even sooner.

She could no longer stand being alone with this man for even another second.

She helped Adrian lie down on the sofa and turned to head toward the bathroom.

However, the next second, her wrist was gripped tight, and she was pulled firmly into the man’s embrace.

Nose to nose, their breaths mingled together.

Whether Adrian was truly drunk or simply overcome with emotion, his deep eyes were now filled with infatuation.

He gazed at Vivian’s jade-white face, her trembling eyelashes, and her red lips.

The man’s voice was low and husky: "Wife, you’re so beautiful."

As he spoke, Adrian’s large hand slid beneath Vivian’s nightgown, moving up along her smooth, white thigh.

In truth, it wasn't that he didn't love her.

It was just too difficult to overcome the barrier in his heart.

Sometimes he hated himself for it and wanted to be braver, and these emotions became even harder to control after discovering that someone else might have touched her.

Vivian was pinned in his arms.

Pushing Adrian away slightly, she spotted a scarlet lipstick mark on his shirt collar, along with a strand of long, chestnut hair.

This was Tiffany’s habitual way of marking her territory.

Only Adrian himself remained oblivious.

She sneered inwardly, but an idea formed.

Vivian lowered her gaze, acting pitiful: "Honey, your shirt is stained with someone else's lipstick."

Adrian’s movements froze instantly.

He sat up while still holding Vivian, masking the flash of panic in his eyes.

"It was probably from tonight when I was discussing work; Tiffany leaned in to talk to me and accidentally touched it. I’ll tell her to be more careful next time."

As he spoke, he watched Vivian’s expression.

Vivian remained silent.

Instead, Adrian’s gaze darkened. She didn't care? She wasn't even suspicious?

He nibbled provocatively on her earlobe, his breath burning hot.

"Didn't you arrange for me to have dinner with her? What, are you jealous now?"

Vivian endured the internal revulsion, but her voice carried a hint of grievance: "No, I'm not."

Seeing her like this made Adrian find her both pitiful and adorable.

Clearly jealous, yet pretending to be sensible.

A hint of satisfaction touched his lips, and his hands became restless again: "Don't worry, there's nothing between Tiffany and me. At most, we are just superior and subordinate. I don't even like her type."

Vivian asked intentionally: "Then what type do you like?"

Adrian laughed: "You, of course! Don't you know my heart best? You even brought Tiffany in front of me—are you intentionally using her to test your husband? Are you trying to provoke me?"

Seeing him use this "offense as defense" strategy and treating her like a fool, Vivian didn't expose him.

After all, this wasn't the first time, though at least this time she was no longer kept in the dark.

She pushed Adrian away with force and stood up, acting offended.

"What are you saying? I just didn't want you to be too exhausted. Tiffany seems sensible and capable at work. I was just afraid you wouldn't take care of your body and would forget to eat while coordinating with her."

Seeing her heart and mind so focused on his well-being, Adrian felt a sense of comfort.

Perhaps he really should be a bit braver.

He reached out again for Vivian’s hand: "Let’s not talk about that now. Vivian, we..."

Before he could finish, a beeping sound suddenly came from the kitchen.

Vivian snapped back to reality.

She let out a feigned "Ah!" of surprise and said hurriedly: "I forgot I was boiling porridge for you. Drink some first. Besides, have you forgotten that my period isn't over yet?"

With that, she hurried into the kitchen.

After being interrupted several times, a wave of irritability rose in Adrian.

He took off his suit jacket, looked at the smudge of crimson lipstick on it, and inexplicably thought of Tiffany’s water-like submissiveness.

The man’s eyes grew dark, and he eventually stood up.

As he walked toward the door, Vivian happened to come out carrying a bowl.

Seeing Adrian’s movements, she knew instantly where he was going.

Even though everything was within her expectations, Adrian had even less patience than she had imagined.

Vivian masked her emotions and called out anxiously: "Honey, it's so late. Where are you going?"

Adrian didn't look back: "There’s an emergency with the project. I have to go to the office to handle it."

He then slammed the door and left.

Vivian stood there holding the bowl, her eyes half-lidded, feeling nothing but irony.

The current Adrian Cross couldn't even be bothered to find a plausible excuse anymore.

It must be hard on him, running back and forth between the villa and Tiffany’s place.

But this was exactly what she wanted. Since his mind and eyes were full of that woman, he naturally wouldn't notice the changes at home. Moving out under the guise of a vacation was perfect; she could shake off that substitute as well.

Vivian placed the bowl on the table and savored the contents—it was actually Tremella and Lotus Seed beauty porridge she had made for herself.

The sweet taste stimulated her taste buds.

The show was finally about to begin.

Early the next morning.

After breakfast, Vivian contacted a moving company.

Within half an hour, the crew had arrived. She didn't actually have that many things to move.

Vivian directed the movers to box up her original game design manuscripts, then packed her important documents and a few sets of clothes to be transported.

She hadn't just been idly moping at home these past few years.

Only upon clearing things out did she realize how much of her life's work she had accumulated. Every manuscript carried her dreams and hard work.

The documents and drafts alone occupied two large boxes.

Two workers were carrying a box out.

However, with so many things on the floor, the worker on the left accidentally tripped and bumped into a bookshelf.

Vivian cried out: "Watch out!"

As soon as she spoke, the shelf shook, and a picture frame hit the floor with a loud clatter.

A yellowed photograph slid out from behind the backing.