The blue light cast by the smartphone lying against the thick carpet felt blinding amidst the dim shadows of Rehan’s study. Aileen knelt in absolute stillness, her slender fingers trembling violently as she read the string of text messages illuminated on the screen. Her heart pounded erratically, threatening to tear right through her ribcage.

She entered the passcode using their wedding anniversary—a numerical combination she had always held sacred. The screen unlocked instantly. At that very moment, the entire world she had trusted for years shattered into irreparable pieces.

It wasn't just a few flirtatious texts. The chat history within the messaging app stretched far back, spanning years of their marriage. There were intimate photos, sickening love confessions, and corporate documents secretly forwarded back and forth. Clara—the woman everyone knew as Rehan's professional, competent personal secretary—was actually a mistress who had shared her husband's bed for nearly four years.

"Darling, just be patient a little longer. Soon enough, all the assets of that old geezer's company will completely fall into our hands. Once that foolish Aileen is out of this world, no one will ever stand in our way again," read one of Clara's messages sent just last week.

Aileen covered her mouth with a trembling hand. The tears she had fought to hold back suddenly spilled over, flowing silently down her cheeks. Her throat tightened so severely she could barely breathe. So all this time, Rehan's gentleness, his warm kisses on her forehead every morning, and his sweet promises of building a future together were nothing more than a foul, rotten act? Her marriage was a stage play, and she was the only fool treating this tragedy as true happiness.

Before Aileen could even begin to process the agonizing pain stabbing at her core, the phone in her hand vibrated violently. An incoming voice call lit up the screen from a contact saved as ‘Clara My Queen’.

Driven by a surge of courage born from profound heartbreak, Aileen instinctively tapped the green icon and pressed the slim device to her ear, sliding down to crouch hidden behind the large executive desk.

"Rehan? What took you so long to pick up?! You know I hate waiting!" a spoiled yet sharp voice immediately greeted her from the other end.

Aileen held her breath tightly, biting down on her lip until it nearly bled to stifle the desperate sob clawing at her throat.

"What is it, Clara? I just got home," Rehan's voice drifted faintly from the direction of the master bedroom door, which connected directly to the study. He must have been standing right in the threshold, talking through his wireless earphones.

"I'm bored to death in this apartment! Besides, when is our plan going to be executed? I'm sick of seeing your wife's holier-than-thou face wandering around her family's mansion. If she keeps staying there, when will her inheritance ever truly belong to us?" Clara's voice dripped with raw ambition and malice.

Behind the desk, Aileen’s body went completely rigid. The agony in her chest instantly transformed into a deadly, freezing chill.

Rehan’s voice let out a cold chuckle—a sneering laugh Aileen had never once heard throughout their five years of marriage. "Calm down, my love. Don't be impatient. Everything has been neatly arranged. Tonight, I’ll ask her to drive out of town alone through the deserted northern mountain route. The brakes on her car have already been tampered with by my trusted mechanic. Once her car plunges off the cliff, the police will rule it a fatal accident caused by driver negligence."

Aileen's heartbeat felt as though it had completely stopped.

"Brilliant!" Clara cheered from the other end with a delighted lilt. "Make sure her body leaves no trace behind, darling. Once she's dead, the entire Hartono corporate empire will belong to us unconditionally, and we can live in immense wealth forever, far away from that stupid woman's shadow."

"Of course, my love. Wait for me in your arms tomorrow morning."

Click. The call disconnected.

Aileen slumped limply against the cold floor. Every single joint in her body felt paralyzed. This marriage wasn't merely a betrayal; it was a premeditated murder plot fueled by the sheer greed for her late father's fortune. They didn't just want to shatter her heart—they wanted to strip away her life without an ounce of mercy. Physical pain paled in comparison to the total destruction of Aileen's soul as she realized how worthless her existence was in the eyes of the man she had loved to the ends of the earth.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached from outside the study door.

Creak...

The study door swung wide open. The overhead lights flashed on abruptly, casting a harsh glare that stung Aileen's tear-streaked eyes.

Aileen slowly raised her gaze. Standing in the doorway was Rehan. He had already changed into casual clothes, yet the smile on his face was horrifying—a mask of deceit that now looked utterly rotting in Aileen's eyes.

"Aileen? What are you doing down on the floor this late at night?" Rehan asked, softening his tone deliberately, though his sharp gaze betrayed a simmering suspicion.

Aileen hastily wiped away her tears, forcing her violently shaking body to straighten up. She concealed the phone within the folds of her silk nightgown, then glared up at Rehan with whatever remaining strength she possessed. It was a look entirely unlike her usual self—a hollow gaze harboring a smoldering fire of rage.

Rehan froze for a brief second upon seeing the sudden shift in his wife's expression, but he quickly brushed off the doubt and forced on his most sickeningly sweet smile.

"You look terribly pale, honey," Rehan said, stepping closer and extending a hand as though to caress Aileen's cheek. "Ah, it's actually a good thing you're still awake. There's something very important I need you to do tonight."

Aileen held her breath, staring at the fingers of the man who, just moments ago, had plotted her execution. "What task, Rehan?" Her voice came out raspy, though she forced it to remain eerily calm.

Rehan smiled broadly, giving Aileen's shoulder a light, hypocritical pat. "Crucial documents for our branch office in the neighboring city need to be signed by the managing director first thing tomorrow morning. Since I'm exhausted and have to lead a major board meeting tomorrow afternoon, would you mind driving them over there right now by yourself?"

Rehan pointed toward a thick brown envelope resting on top of the desk. The route Rehan was referring to was the northern mountain pass—steep, dark, and notoriously devoid of cellular reception. It was the exact same path he had just discussed on the phone to send Aileen plummeting into a watery, fatal abyss.

"The papers are extremely urgent, Aileen. You don't mind making this sacrifice for the sake of our family company, do you?" Rehan coaxed, his voice dripping with honeyed sweetness, thinly veiling an eager, desperate push.

Aileen stared at the brown envelope, then slowly lifted her eyes to meet the gaze of the husband who had transformed into her executioner. Deep within her chest, the love that had once burned so brightly was now entirely dead, leaving behind only a single, blazing, pitch-black resolve.