Chapter 1

When I brought homemade chicken noodle soup to my husband, he was still in surgery.

He was one of the most famous cosmetic dentists in the city, but he had a severe case of gynophobia.

His private clinic was staffed exclusively by men.

He once told me with tears of joy that he was lucky to have found me, or his phobia would have forced him to stay single forever.

Yet today, at the bottom of the trash bin in his private lounge, lay a crumpled tissue stained with bright pink lipstick.

It was a fresh trash bag, completely empty except for that glaring smear of bubblegum pink.

Just as I leaned in to get a closer look, the doorknob turned.

My husband walked in, smelling of crisp disinfectant, and wrapped his arms around me naturally.

“You’re the best, honey. Bringing me soup during a busy day.”

I froze in his embrace, a wave of nausea washing over my stomach.

“I missed you, so I came by.”

Walking out to the parking lot and sitting in my car, I texted my best friend, who worked as a private investigator.

“I need all security footage from the clinic over the past three months. Every single backup.”

01

Preston’s fear of women was legendary in his circle.

Just how bad was it?

When we first got married, we hired a fifty-year-old cleaning lady.

She accidentally brushed against his sleeve while passing by, and his face instantly turned pale.

He locked himself in the shower for an hour, scrubbing his skin until it turned raw and bled.

From that day on, I was the only woman allowed in his world.

His dental practice was named Haven Dental, a sanctuary of pure cleanliness.

From his partners down to the janitor, every employee was male.

I used to feel touched and even took secret pride in it.

After all, I was his only exception.

Now, that crumpled tissue smeared with pink lipstick was like a thorn jammed into my eye.

Preston rested his chin in the crook of my neck, nuzzling softly.

“Honey, why are you so quiet today?”

His voice was gentle, carrying the sweet vulnerability of a tired husband.

In the past, I would have melted, rubbing his temples to ease his headache.

Right now, beneath the sharp scent of hospital sanitizer, I caught a faint trace of sickly sweet vanilla perfume.

I pushed him away smoothly, swallowing the bile rising in my throat.

“You look exhausted, so I didn't want to distract you.”

I walked to the coffee table, opened the thermos, and poured a warm bowl of soup.

“Drink it while it’s hot. I have a board meeting at the office, so I have to run.”

Preston took the bowl, his eyes brimming with adoration.

“Thank you, babe. Once I finish this batch of surgeries, I’ll take you on a tropical vacation to Maui.”

Looking at his handsome face, I let out a cold sneer in my mind.

Maui?

Are we going there to celebrate your Academy Award performance?

I turned to grab my purse and noticed a white lab coat hanging by the coat rack.

Near the collar clung a single strand of hair.

It was chestnut brown and slightly wavy.

Preston had straight black hair, and mine was long, straight, and jet black.

None of the male doctors or male nurses in this clinic had wavy chestnut hair.

Pretending to adjust my scarf, I flicked my fingers across the collar and caught the strand in my palm.

“I’m heading out.”

I didn't let him walk me to the elevator and hurried to my car.

Inside the vehicle, I opened my hand.

The brown curl glistened mockingly under the midday sun.

My phone buzzed with an incoming text from my friend Lois.

“Their surveillance system is encrypted. It will take a bit to crack, but you’ll have it by tomorrow.”

“In the meantime, I dug up something fascinating.”

“That all-male clinic of your husband’s hired a new assistant last month.”

“Name is Andy Hayes, listed as male, twenty-two years old.”

“I checked the official records and college database. Andy Hayes is legally female.”