[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":10},["ShallowReactive",2],{"viewer-data-2603220ECDF1-559":3},{"id":4,"number":5,"name":6,"content":7,"isLocked":8,"price":9,"hasRead":8},559,1,"Chapter 1: \"Who Is Coming Back?\"","\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The Azure Club: a playground where the city's elite burned through money like it was going out of style.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Everyone who frequented this place was either filthy rich or absurdly well-connected. In one of the private suites, the usual routine was simple: a few men, a deck of cards, and business deals whispered over scotch. As they played, a message pinged on their phones. In perfect synchronization, every man at the table dismissed the female companions lounging by their sides.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">One of them sighed, shaking his head. \"Good thing we got the heads-up. If Roman saw us like this, he’d lecture us on 'husbandly conduct' for the rest of the night.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Another laughed. \"Yeah, he’s basically the president of the 'Perfect Husband' support group. Expects us all to be his star pupils.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Don't act like you don't get it,\" the third guy quipped. \"That’s exactly why Roman has a wife and we don’t.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">At eight o'clock sharp, the wall-mounted television in the corner switched to the evening news. Someone caught a glimpse and paused.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Wait, isn't that Roman’s wife?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">On the screen, the woman spoke with effortless elegance. She didn’t have the typical, soft-around-the-edges look of a standard news anchor; there was something sharper, more ethereal about her. To land a spot in the prime-time chair, you had to be one in a million, and she was exactly that. Every expression, every smile—it was magnetic.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I thought she stepped back from the front line?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Maybe the station shifted things around? Who knows. Anchors are hard to come by; she’s probably just covering a shift.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The men continued their game, though their eyes kept drifting back to the screen.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Speaking of which, did you guys hear?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Yeah, I heard.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Something like that.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The one guy out of the loop scratched his head. \"What are you all whispering about? When did you start a group chat without me?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The three of them exchanged hesitant glances. Under the weight of his pestering, someone finally cracked. \"It’s about Violette’s ex-boyfriend. Word is, he’s moving back to the country.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The words had barely left his lips when the door to the suite swung open.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The man who had been out for a drink five minutes ago stood in the doorway. He was dressed in a dark, high-neck sweater that emphasized the sharp line of his throat. His expression was ice-cold. He stepped inside, his voice clipped and freezing: \"Who’s coming back?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Nobody, nobody. We were just gossiping.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman’s gaze sharpened, and the man immediately caved. \"Fine. It’s… the tennis pro.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">In Roman’s world, \"the tennis pro\" was a special designation. His friends had learned long ago to avoid the guy’s actual name, and eventually, the title became his permanent, derogatory nickname.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman tossed his coat onto the sofa, showing no outward reaction to the name. He sat down. \"How many rounds have you played?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Third one is almost up. You want to watch the news? It’s your wife. I doubt you’re interested in cards right now anyway.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Not playing today.\" Roman checked his watch. \"I have to pick her up later.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The Azure Club was only a five-minute drive from the TV station. That was the real reason Roman was here tonight. Picking up his wife was the priority; the drinks were just a way to kill time.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The guys at the table shared a knowing, suggestive laugh, telling him not to show off in front of the single men.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman didn't respond. He and Violette had only been married for a few months—the \"honeymoon phase,\" as everyone called it. When Violette worked late or overslept, he was the one making breakfast. When she wanted to browse art galleries on the weekend, he was the one tagging along, despite his usual preference for cold, hard economic data.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Looking at it that way, they were definitely still in the honeymoon phase.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">His gaze returned to the television. He could hear Violette practicing the script at the breakfast table that morning. There was a segment he hadn't heard before—breaking news—but she handled it with the same cool, unflappable grace. It had been a while since he’d seen her like this: vibrant and commanding.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He reached up to adjust his tie, only to realize he was dressed casually. His hand dropped, and he felt a sudden, inexplicable itch of irritation, fueled by the gossip he’d heard at the door.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Before he knew what he was doing, he’d lit a cigarette.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The men at the table stared at the rising blue smoke, stunned. \"Since when do you smoke?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman pressed two fingers to his temples, his pulse thumping behind his eyes. He stubbed the cigarette out. \"Just deal the cards.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">At 9:45 PM, Roman left the club.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The roads were empty, and the drive took barely three minutes. He cut the engine in the parking lot and reached for his pack of cigarettes, but after a moment of hesitation, he tossed them into the glove box instead.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette had told him she had two segments to review; she wouldn't be out until after ten. He’d said it was fine, but found himself checking his phone every few minutes, hoping for a message.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">At 10:25 PM, her notification finally popped up. She said she was finishing up but that it was too late, so he didn’t need to come. She would catch a cab.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman typed back: No. I’m already downstairs.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She sent a surprised emoji, then followed it up with a quick: Okay.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Ten minutes later, Violette appeared. She was walking with a group of colleagues, but under the harsh streetlights, Roman only had eyes for her. She looked a little thin in the night air, her hair falling naturally over her shoulders. She’d wiped off her makeup, making her look entirely different from the woman on screen—less aggressive, more like a spring of clear water.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman liked her this way, clean and unadorned. It was the same way she looked when she was sleeping beside him, or when she was struggling to catch her breath beneath him.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Perhaps even more beautiful.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He pushed the stray thoughts aside and waved her over.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette said a quick goodbye to her colleagues and hurried over. A few strands of hair were stuck to her face by the wind, and she impatiently tied them back into a messy ponytail.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman reached out, smoothing the hair at the base of her neck. \"Ready to go home?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Yeah. Have you been waiting long?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Just got here,\" he lied, his voice warm.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">They climbed into the car together. As soon as the door clicked shut, Roman frowned. He hadn't noticed while sitting in the club, but the faint, lingering scent of cigarette smoke clung to his wool coat.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette was sensitive to smells. She turned, eyeing him.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Did you smoke?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman let out a soft sound of acknowledgment. \"Couldn't help it during the business meeting,\" he said, his tone unruffled.\u003C/p>",false,0,1774272916857]