My husband's sister-in-law has skin hunger, but her husband works abroad year-round.

"Noelle Ziegler, when my condition flares up, could you lend Mark Johnston to me for one night?"

Was she asking to sleep with my husband?

"Sophie Foster, do you realize what you're saying?

Mark is my husband—your husband's own brother!"

I stared at my husband, dumbfounded.

True to form, he refused his sister-in-law.

I thought he loved me deeply, yet the Johnston Group Johnston family Johnston's villa Johnston family Johnston's villa very next night, I found him in bed with Sophie.

Panting heavily, he asked her:

"Sophie, did I get here fast enough this time?"

I closed my eyes in despair. Fine then. If this is how it is, nobody gets peace.

I turned and dialed his older brother's number.

—

Mark's older brother called him:

"Mark, I'm handling a family traitor and can't return yet.

Sophie's condition isn't cured. Keep an eye on her when it acts up while I'm away."

I looked at Mark and asked:

"What if Sophie's episodes hit while your brother's gone?

This isn't some common cold you can fix with pills."

Flynn Johnston, the firstborn grandson of the, leads their shadow operations.

All the family's dirty work falls to him.

He loved Sophie deeply. If he found out she sought relief from her condition with another man,

both Sophie and that man would face unspeakable consequences.

Sophie, her eyes red, came to my husband:

"Mark, your brother says he won't come back this time. Why is my life so bitter? I'm married yet live like a widow, especially with this wretched condition."

Her voice broke as she sobbed:

"Last time it flared up, I nearly died.

Since your brother cares nothing for me, won't you just let me be?

The agony when it strikes—I can't endure it."

Mark hesitated:

"But Sophie, I can't let you seek other men!"

Sophie fell silent before turning to me:

"Noelle, when my condition worsens, could you lend me Mark for one night?

I swear I won't touch him once I recover."

I wondered if I'd misheard.

Was she asking to sleep with my husband?

"Sophie, are you delirious?

Do you realize what you're saying?

Mark is my husband—your husband's own brother!"

Sophie clutched my hand like a lifeline, pleading:

"Noelle, we're both women—have mercy!

You have a husband; you can't fathom this agony."

"They won't let me find men outside to relieve myself, so turning to Mark should be fine, right?"

I stared at Mark, dumbfounded. What mattered more to me was his attitude.

He gave me a firm look, frowned and refused Sophie:

"Sophie, what nonsense are you talking?

!

How could I face Flynn if I did this?

Besides, I have Noelle. I love her and would never betray her."

Hearing Mark's words, Sophie cried even harder, choking on her sobs. She looked at him with resentful eyes.

Mark resolutely took my hand, stood up to see our guest out:

"Sophie, the nonsense you said today,

Noelle and I will pretend we didn't hear it.

But if you keep spouting nonsense in the future

and upset Noelle,

then don't blame me for turning against you."

My heart settled a bit. Indeed, I hadn't misjudged Mark.

Five years ago, my family faced a financial crisis.

To please a client, my parents

insisted on marrying me off to that pot-bellied old man.

As I stood on the bridge hesitating whether to jump,

Mark appeared before me like a divine soldier descending from heaven.

His gentleness and care ironed out my lonely heart.

Later, he proposed to me,

and I married him without hesitation.

Sophie still refused to give up. She stepped forward and grabbed Mark's collar, pleading:

"Mark, if you don't want to, just turn a blind eye. Stop watching me, okay? Let me make one trip."

I pulled Sophie's hand off Mark's collar:

"Sophie, isn't this putting Mark in a difficult position?

How about this—I'll book your flight and send you to Flynn."

Sophie shook her head frantically. Her father had died in a plane crash, leaving her with an intense fear of flying. That's why she'd stayed behind alone in America.

"My apologies for being inconsiderate and making such an unreasonable request. I'm sorry for troubling you both."

After speaking, she hung her head and shuffled out.

I noticed Mark's brows furrow almost imperceptibly.

Chapter 2

During dinner, Sophie sat there, her lower body fidgeting on the chair, skin flushed—the telltale signs of her condition flaring up.

Before the meal ended, Sophie retreated to her room, her pained moans drifting out intermittently.

I asked Mark:

"Should I check on Sophie?"

Mark pulled me close, placed my favorite dish in my bowl, and said tenderly:

"Don't mind her. Eat while it's hot.

Once the food cools, your stomach will ache again. I'd hate to see you suffer."

Mark brought me a bowl of warm soup from the kitchen:

"Darling, I specially asked the housekeeper to make this comforting soup for you.

Sophie's episode might last all night. I don't want it disturbing your sleep."

My heart melted at his thoughtfulness:

"Thank you, sweetheart. What a blessing to be your wife."

Mark gently kissed my forehead:

"And what a blessing to have you as mine."

As we settled for sleep, Mark wrapped his arms around me from behind, smoothed my hair, and held my hand. I drifted off peacefully in his embrace.

Sometime later, Sophie's cries jolted me awake.

Reaching out, I found the bed empty—Mark was gone.

I called his name, but only silence answered from the bathroom.

His phone was still on the bedside table, so he probably hadn't gone far.

Sophie's cries grew louder and more urgent, though this time they sounded different from when she had episodes before.

Her moans carried a hint of pleasure, each one ending in a soft, drawn-out sigh.

Curious, I walked up to her room on the top floor.

Her bedroom door stood slightly ajar, spilling warm, suggestive yellow light into the hallway.

Just as I opened my mouth to call for her, a man's low grunt cut through the air.

My heart lurched—Sophie was bold to bring a man back to the.

Peering through the crack, I saw a man working hard on top of her.

That familiar silhouette belonged to my husband, Mark!

The rhythmic thumping against her headboard and wall mingled with Mark's ragged breaths.

Snapping back to reality, I realized my chest tightened with pain—Mark had deceived me.

The man I loved most, the one I believed was my salvation, was now inflicting the deepest wound.

I crept back to the bedroom, my face already drenched in tears.

Lying in bed, I listened to the alternating cries upstairs until dawn silenced them.

Just before work, Mark returned to the bedroom, changed clothes, and left without a word.

Those few minutes in our room were enough for me to catch that distinct scent clinging to him.

The nauseating stench made me gag. I flung windows and doors open to purge it.

Sophie descended the stairs radiant, humming a cheerful tune.

Her glow starkly contrasted my haggard face and dark-circled eyes.

Spotting my open bedroom door, she had the audacity to stroll in and chirp:

"Noelle, darling, my condition had me moaning all night. Didn't disturb you, did I?

Mark even specially brewed you comforting.

He's so attentive to you—I'm actually jealous."

In the past, I'd have glowed at her flattery and praised Mark in return.

But now, knowing the truth, I only see this hypocritical couple as utterly disgusting.

No wonder Mark would make me comforting every time Sophie had an episode.

I truly thought he was being considerate, but he was actually afraid I'd wake up at night and discover their filthy affair.

With a darkened expression, I told her to leave:

"The comforting worked too well. I still feel drowsy and need more sleep."

A faint trace of smugness flickered across Sophie's face:

"Good. I was worried you heard me tossing all night."

Mark texted me:

"Honey, did you sleep well last night?

I ordered cake for you. Share it with Sophie.

She had a rough time with her episode yesterday."

Reading his message, I thought what a pity he wasn't an actor.

This cake was clearly meant for Sophie, yet he pretended to do me a favor.

Seems he'd been sleeping with Sophie for ages—only I remained oblivious until now.

Tonight, all the foolishness in my brain flowed out with my tears.

Since they treat me like a fool, I'll play along with their charade for now.

Chapter 3

Sophie's episodes grew more frequent. Each time she drank the comforting, I'd pour it out unnoticed.

Believing I remained unconscious, they grew bolder with their "treatment."

This time, Mark audaciously brought Sophie into our bedroom's bathroom.

He shamelessly coaxed:

"Sophie, you've said it's not thrilling enough lately—that the treatment feels dull.

Now Noelle's sleeping right outside. Exciting enough?"

Sophie pulled the bathroom door open:

"That's even better."

I glanced up—their reflections glared back from the mirror. I grabbed my phone, zoomed in, and captured every detail through the glass.

Lost in their recklessness, they never noticed I was awake.

Once opened, Pandora's box of human depravity won't easily shut.

They seemed unsatisfied limiting their "treatment" to Sophie's episodes alone.

They schemed to send me away for their indulgence.

Mark coaxed me:

"Honey, didn't you always want to visit Koh Samui?

Perfect season now. Let me book your tickets."

I calmly replied:

"Sure. It's been ages since we traveled. I'd love to go with you."

Mark smiled apologetically:

"This time I can't go with you, the company's been swamped lately.

Ask your girlfriends to join you, I'll cover all expenses."

I pretended to sulk:

"What's the point of traveling without you?"

Probably too eager to ship me off abroad, he whipped out a card:

"Two hundred thousand dollars here to make up for your husband skipping the trip. Buy whatever catches your eye – your happiness comes first."

I unceremoniously snatched his card:

"Then this belongs to me now."

Mark didn't mind, beaming as he hugged me:

"Pack all your prettiest dresses and extend your vacation."

I immediately bought miniature surveillance cameras and hid them in inconspicuous corners throughout the.

When I landed in Koh and checked the surveillance footage, the scenes were too explicit to watch.

Anyone stumbling upon this would think they'd entered an adult film site.

Mark had stopped going to work, indulging in whatever they pleased with Sophie throughout the vast villa.

Bedrooms, balconies, living rooms, kitchens, even stairwells—every corner bore traces of their frenzied activities.

Holding Sophie while thrusting, Mark murmured:

"Flynn called yesterday saying he's returning to America soon. Won't need my help with Sophie's episodes anymore."

Sophie's voice came weakly:

"Your treatments work better on me, Mark. Give me a few more sessions before Flynn comes back."

I saved every second of their recordings.

This evidence was enough to ruin Mark's reputation completely.

Now that Flynn's returning—what would happen when he discovers this?

I called Flynn:

"Flynn, heard you're coming back to America?

When?"

Flynn said:

"Haven't booked tickets yet. Was planning next week, but things wrapped up unexpectedly. Still considering returning now."

"Flynn, I'm vacationing in Koh too. How about this: we fly back together day after tomorrow. Keep it quiet. Surprise Mark and Sophie?"

Flynn readily agreed. Could hardly wait to see this show unfold.

We booked flights arriving simultaneously, planning to meet at the airport.

Two days later, I saw Flynn at the airport.

Greeted him warmly, then deliberately mentioned:

"Flynn, you really owe Mark thanks this time!

Sophie's episodes have been frequent lately. Mark sent me to Koh so I could rest while he cares for her alone at home."

Flynn's brow furrowed, just as expected:

"But when I called Sophie, she said she'd been much better lately. No episodes for ages. Told me not to rush back."

I sighed:

"Flynn, that's clearly Sophie comforting you!

Before, her episodes mostly came at night. Now they happen daytime too. See for yourself when you get back."

I just opened the villa door, and Sophie's cheerful shout came down from upstairs.

Time to show