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"In elite circles, there was a saying: every man on earth was capable of cheating except Lucian Draewyn. He was restrained, self-disciplined, distant yet refined. The kind of man who placed virtue above all, the kind who only had eyes for the woman he loved, the one who had gone from school uniforms to a wedding dress. But in the fifth year of their marriage, Elara Wynn received news that Lucian was keeping another woman in secret. When the photos reached her, Elara froze. Because the woman he was hiding wasn't some bright-eyed eighteen-year-old or a successful, capable professional. She was a divorced woman who ran a breakfast stand. Ordinary background, average looks, and even three years older than Lucian. But the way he looked at her in those photos was filled with love. Deep, tender, soul-aching love. At 9 p.m., Lucian came home, looking as immaculate as ever. The same cool, aloof demeanor. Sharp suit. Every line precise. Elara sat on the sofa in the dark. No lights on. When he got close, she suddenly hurled the stack of photos at him. The paper flew into the air and scattered all across the floor. ""Lucian Draewyn, explain this."" Lucian stood still for a moment. Then he slowly bent down and began picking up the photos, one by one. For someone with his obsession with cleanliness, he didn't even flinch as he gently wiped a bit of dust off the woman's face in the photo. He looked up at Elara, his eyes calm. ""There's nothing to explain. You're right. I'm in love with her."" Elara felt like a hand had clamped around her throat. She couldn't breathe. Her mind went blank. ""You're in love with her?"" Her voice shook. ""Lucian, when you confessed to me at sixteen, you stood under the moonlight with your ears bur//ning red, and you told me you'd only ever love me. That no one else even registered in your eyes."" Lucian looked at her. No emotion in his gaze. Just deep, tired weariness. ""I did say that,"" he replied. His voice was steady, almost detached. ""But Elara,
