Chloe's marriage was a perfect work of art.

At least, that's what everyone believed.


Two years ago, she married Daniel. Handsome, cultured, from a prestigious family, he ran a thriving architectural design firm. He gave her a fairy-tale wedding, a penthouse overlooking Central Park, and the kind of flawless adoration everyone envied.

He would rent out entire Michelin-starred restaurants for their anniversaries. If she casually mentioned liking a piece by some obscure artist, he'd quietly purchase it and hang it in their bedroom.

He never spoke harshly, never stayed out all night, and was always gentle and considerate in bed, respecting her every need.


He treated her like precious porcelain, enshrined in a climate-controlled display case, sheltered from all the world's storms and dust.

Today is their second wedding anniversary. Chloe sits at her vanity, fastening her pearl earrings—a coming-of-age gift from her late mother, vintage and elegant, reserved for only the most precious occasions. In the mirror, her skin emanates a soft glow, her features exquisite in a champagne-colored gown that makes her look like a night-blooming flower under moonlight.


She is beautiful. Daniel always says so.

Beautiful… like a work of art. The thought emerges without warning, causing a slight pang in her heart.

She chuckles and shakes her head. Just being sentimental.

Daniel's laptop sits on the nearby couch, screen still on. He's just finished a video conference and gone to shower. In the bottom right corner, a messaging app icon flashes.

Chloe's gaze sweeps past unintentionally, then freezes.

It's a profile picture she hasn't seen before—a young man with blonde hair and sharp features. The preview message reads:

[Last night, I dreamed about you.]

Followed by a purple devil emoji.

Chloe's heart skips a beat.

Probably just spam, she thinks, or some new client behaving inappropriately. Daniel is so charming that people are always trying to get close to him without respecting boundaries.

She forces herself to look away, picking up the gift box containing the Patek Philippe watch Daniel had mentioned once. She should trust him, just as she has every day for the past two years.

The shower stops.

Daniel emerges wrapped in a towel, water droplets sliding down his well-defined abs. He embraces her from behind and gives her a lingering kiss.

"So beautiful," he whispers in admiration, his voice gentle as always. "I can't wait anymore."

Chloe's heart settles. She was overthinking.

Smiling, she's about to hand him the gift.

Just then, the laptop chimes with a "ding," and that purple devil reappears in the corner of the screen.

Daniel's body freezes for a millisecond.

He lets go of her, walking over casually. "Just spam," he mutters, closing the laptop too quickly—as if hiding something.

Chloe's hand stops midair, the gift suspended between them.

Looking at her husband's handsome profile, she suddenly remembers finding a man's earring in his suit pocket last week—one that didn't belong to either of them. He'd smiled it away, claiming it belonged to a client who'd had too much to drink and dropped it in his car.

Those small cracks she'd deliberately ignored are now rapidly spreading across her perfect crystal palace.

"Daniel." Her voice sounds eerily calm to her own ears.

"Hmm?"

"Do you love me?"

Daniel turns around, as if finding her question amusing. He cups her face and gazes at her tenderly. "What nonsense are you talking, silly? If I don't love you, who would I love?"

As he speaks, he lowers his head to kiss her.

Chloe turns her head slightly, avoiding his lips.

She points toward the master bedroom and says softly, "I'm a bit tired. I want to lie down for a while. Could you… go tidy up Leo's room? He's coming back to stay this weekend."

"Alright." Daniel doesn't suspect a thing and pinches her cheek. "I'll go to the study to handle some work first."

Chloe smiles and nods, watching him leave.

The moment the study door clicks shut, all color drains from her face.

She doesn't go to the master bedroom but moves like a sleepwalker toward the secondary bedroom at the end of the hallway—Leo's room. Since starting college, Leo rarely comes home. Daniel always complains that keeping the room empty is a waste, suggesting they convert it into his home gym. She's insisted on keeping it, saying she wants to leave her brother a place to return to anytime.

Her hand rests on the doorknob, the cold metal making her tremble uncontrollably.

She isn't really sure what she's looking for. She just has a wild, animal-like intuition that something is wrong.

Slowly, she pushes open the door.

No lights are on, only a faint glimmer of daylight penetrates through the gap in the heavy curtains. In the air lingers a familiar scent—Leo's youthful cologne.

And… something else.

That sweet, cloying cologne she'd smelled on Daniel, mixed with the unmistakable musk of sex.

Here is the source of the smell.

Chloe walks in slowly, feeling as if she's walking on cotton. Her gaze is drawn to a small, dimly glowing object on the bed.

It's a phone, casually tossed beside Leo's pillow. The screen isn't locked and remains open to a chat app.

The profile picture is Daniel's—the silhouette she'd taken of him by the Seine on their first wedding anniversary.

The chat history is filled with obscene, explicit sexual photos and videos. Various positions, various settings—some in a car, some in an office, and some… in her and Daniel's master bedroom.

The most recent one was just sent by Leo.

It's an uncensored close-up of his lower body. The caption reads:

[Brother-in-law, it misses you.]

Chloe's stomach churns violently. She leans against the wall, retching, but nothing comes out.

Her marriage, her love, everything she's been proud of—in this second, it all becomes a massive joke.

She is not Daniel's wife.

She's just… a front. A pathetic human shield used to cover up his relationship with her own brother.

Light footsteps sound from behind.

Daniel appears in the doorway. He looks at her pale face and the phone with its lit screen at her feet, the gentle mask on his face finally slipping away.

He doesn't apologize or explain—just impatiently furrows his brow.

"Since you've seen everything," he begins coldly, as if discussing something that has nothing to do with him, "I have nothing more to say."

As he speaks, he steps past her, picks up the phone from the bed, glances at it, then slips it into his pocket.

"Chloe, let's make a deal." He looks at her with no trace of love in his eyes, only a merchant's shrewdness. "You keep playing your role as Mrs. Reed. In return, everything you currently have stays unchanged. I can even give you more."

He pauses, then adds, as if granting a favor:

"For you, there's no loss, is there? After all… you don't like doing that sort of thing anyway."

Boom—

In Chloe's mind, the last thread snaps.

She raises her head, looking at the stranger before her, and suddenly laughs. The laughter begins softly, then grows louder, carrying a kind of madness and despair, echoing in this tainted room.

"Daniel," she laughs, tears pouring down like a broken dam, "guess what would happen if my father knew you were sleeping with both his daughter and his son…?"

Daniel's expression finally changes.

This is his only weakness. Half of the startup funds for his company came from Chloe's father.

He looks at her face, tear-stained yet smiling brilliantly, and for the first time, he sees in the eyes of this canary he's kept in a cage… a hint of destructive madness he's never seen before.