The night was still and silent. I finally got Sophia to sleep and let out a long exhale. Leaning against the headboard, I mindlessly scrolled through my phone. Suddenly, a local livestream caught my eye. My body jerked upright, fingers tightening around the device. A familiar figure flashed across the screen. My heart pounded violently as cold sweat dampened my palms. With trembling hands, I checked the timestamp—it was live footage from our city. Closing TikTok, I immediately video-called Nathan Kingsley. He'd been on a business trip to Riverside for three days, yet that livestream clearly showed him embracing another woman. The call rang endlessly before connecting. "Sweetheart?" Nathan's refined face appeared on screen, the restaurant hallway visible behind him. He wore a crisp white shirt and tie. But the man in the livestream had been wearing a gray trench coat—the one I'd personally ironed. "Where are you?" I stared intently at the screen. "At Riverside, having dinner with clients." His expression remained calm. "Is Sophia asleep?" "You're really in Riverside?" I pressed. "Of course. What's wrong?" His brows furrowed in confusion. "Nothing..." I forced a smile. "When are you coming home?" "Soon. Miss me?" He winked. "Get some rest. I've got work to finish." After the call ended, I sat frozen on the bed. Nathan was universally regarded as the perfect husband. When we first met, he had nothing but talent that drew me in. We built our business together from a small building materials storefront—I'd even worked myself to the point of stomach bleeding during those early days. Now our company thrived, and four-year-old Sophia was our joy. Though we never had a proper wedding, he always promised to make it up to me. How could such a man possibly... I shook my head. It must have been mistaken identity. That trench coat was popular—plenty of men owned the same one. The next morning, Nathan returned unexpectedly early. "Daddy!" Sophia launched herself into his arms. He held her with one arm while pulling me close with the other, planting kisses on both our cheeks. The kitchen smelled of braised pork ribs—his favorite dish. "Smells greasy in here," he commented, wrinkling his nose. "That's the smell of home," I laughed, popping a rib into his mouth. After dinner, I put Sophia to bed early and took special care with my shower preparations. "How about now?" I whispered, moving closer. He pulled me into his arms, his breathing growing ragged... Later, as he showered, I lay languidly in bed when his phone pinged. A WeChat notification flashed on the screen: "Last night was amazing. Should I wear that trench coat again next time?" My blood turned to ice.