"With my foot still hurting, you're really going to let me walk on my own?" Crizza frowned.
Spencer's muscles tensed.
The next second, he swept Crizza up into his arms and shot me a provocative glance as he always did.
Crizza looked over to gauge my reaction—seeing I gave none, she told him, “Kick the door shut.”
Bang!
The loud slam echoed through the office.
I stood still, and clenched my fist.
I had always believed that just because I was the one who had been by her side the longest, our relationship, no matter how strained, could still be salvaged. That if we ever veered off track, we could correct our course together.
But this time... I'd made up my mind.
I wasn't giving her any more chances.
—
Back at the company, I went to retrieve some documents and noticed a small crowd huddled around their phones, whispering and reacting with excitement.
Curious, I leaned in for a look.
It was Spencer's Instagram story—a series of selfies from a diving trip.
At first glance, it was just him posing with the ocean behind. But even the slowest person could catch the subtle clues—a woman's elegant figure appearing in every photo.
In the top left corner was Crizza's distinctive bracelet. In the top right was a glaring wedding ring, and in the lower left, the faint outline of her profile seemed to have "accidentally" slipped into frame.
Everyone in the company knew she had a deep fear of the ocean. She would never go diving unless she had a very good reason.
Her appearance in his social media said everything without needing to say a word.
I was just about to like the post when it suddenly disappeared.
When I got to the door of her office, I overheard her scolding Spencer.
“I was just upset after a fight with my husband. Going diving with you was a one-time thing. That doesn't mean I'm making it official with you!"
“Who told you to take those ridiculous photos and post them?”
“But Ms. Snyder, I thought...”
His tone was filled with grievance, but she cut him off sharply.
“Enough! Delete them. All of them! Not a single one stays. You're my assistant. Don't you know I don't appear in any other man's posts?”
The words ‘other man' clearly struck a nerve.
Jaw clenched, Spencer reluctantly pulled out his phone and began deleting everything.
Then he looked up—and saw me.
"Hub—"
Crizza caught herself just in time. What was supposed to be ‘husband' became instead, “Dalton...”
I kept my expression cold. “I'm here for the documents.”
She glanced at Spencer, silently telling him to leave, but he didn't budge.
“Get out.” Her tone turned sharp.
Only then did he turn and walk out, dragging his feet. As he passed me, he gave me a glare so sharp even his eyebrows seemed to twist together.
"Dalton, you saw it just now," Crizza said, her voice softening. "There's nothing between me and him."
“Where are the files?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
She reached for my hand, trying to guide me to her office chair.
“Dalton... darling... I admit it was wrong of me to go diving with him, but I was just upset, not thinking straight."
“I don't want a divorce. I acted out in the heat of the moment. But I swear to you—there's nothing between me and him...”
“Where. Are. My. Documents?” I pulled my hand away, raising my voice.
She froze.
“Darling... I only scolded him just now because we're innocent. If I had feelings for him, why would I get angry? I just...”
“Whether or not you two are ‘innocent' has nothing to do with me.”
Her breath hitched.
She stared at me in disbelief, brows drawing together.
“Darling, you're my husband. What are you even saying?”
“You two can keep playing your ambiguous little game. Even if you really did sleep together, I wouldn't say a word,” I replied flatly.
Her expression darkened.
I looked past her and repeated, “The documents?”
