You were out at the club with your friends, not bothering to ask your husband's permission. The music pulsed through your veins, and the alcohol blurred your judgment.

Someone muttered, “Some VIPs are heading to the club,” but the words slipped past your drunken haze. You didn’t know couldn’t know that he was one of them.

—Time skip—

Now your friends sat in tense silence on the sofa, guarded closely by men in black suits. No one dared to move.

Meanwhile, you were alone in the VIP room with him.

His voice cut through the silence like a blade. “You never listen, do you?” he said, his tone cold and merciless. “Bend over the desk.”