Serena Weston had that dream again.

Ever since her husband started sleeping in a separate room, the dream showed up every single night the moment she drifted off, like clockwork.

In the dream, a man clung to her like a shadow, tangling with her in endless intimacy. But the worst part—the guy was not her husband.

Her body was pressed deep into the soft mattress beneath the weight of a strong male frame. His breathing burned against her ear, dragging her whole being into his scent, and in one instant, every sense she had was swallowed by pleasure.

Serena bit down hard on her lower lip, stubbornly refusing to make a sound.

"Don’t bite it. Let me hear you," the man murmured by her ear, his low, rich voice rough with heat. The large hand gripping her waist suddenly tightened and hauled her hard toward him.

His scorching breath brushed her lips before he kissed her with a force that felt almost tyrannical, pulling her straight into a tide of pleasure with no end in sight.

The rush kept building, wave after wave, flooding every last nerve she had.

"Mm..." Serena finally let out a broken sound. Her fingers curled tight, digging into the back of the man above her.

Right before her mind slipped under completely, she asked in a daze, "Who are you?"

The man gave a quiet, unreadable laugh. "I am..."

...

"Dr. Weston, wake up!"

The concerned voice exploded beside her, and Serena snapped her eyes open.

Her chest rose and fell sharply, her breathing unsteady.

A flush still lingered across her cheeks, warm and suspiciously intimate. The scene from the dream was still vivid in her mind, so real it felt insane. She could even still sense that strange sticky heat left on her body.

It had already been a whole month.

Ever since that time she accidentally drank the spiked wine and ended up spending one tangled, feverish night with that man in her dream, he had started appearing every time she fell asleep.

She had never been able to see his face clearly, but she could feel the warmth of his body.

The path of his burning lips across her skin had felt so real it was honestly terrifying.

And those ambiguous marks he left behind on her body—

even after she woke up, they were still there.

Serena Weston suddenly found the whole thing kind of ironic.

She was an internationally known psychological counselor, held top-tier certifications like BACP and ACI, and was even the first scientific sleep researcher in the field.

And yet, when it came to her own mess, she was completely stuck.

"Dr. Weston, your brain waves just showed a sharp spike in a very short time. Up until the moment you woke up, they stayed unusually active."

"What exactly did you dream about? If you're willing to say it out loud, we can break it down together."

Serena looked away at once, her ears heating up. How was she supposed to say something like that?

Was she really meant to admit she'd been having an erotic dream?

Buzz—

Her phone suddenly vibrated. Serena pulled it out and glanced at the screen. It was her mother.

She got off the bed and stepped outside to answer. "Xiaoling, tomorrow is your dad's fifty-fifth birthday. You and Nathan should come home for dinner. Your dad keeps saying he hasn't seen Nathan in ages..."

Serena was quiet for a moment before saying softly, "I'll ask him. He's been pretty busy lately."

After hanging up, she let out a helpless sigh.

Then she called Nathan Whitmore.

The call rang twice before he finally picked up. His voice was low and flat. "What is it?"

"Nathan, tomorrow..."

Serena had barely started when he cut her off. "I was just about to tell you, I'm going to An'an's parent-child sports day tomorrow."

Serena's brows tightened. "Tomorrow is my dad's birthday dinner."

"Xiaoling, if I don't go, An'an will get laughed at."

"I'll have my assistant send a gift to your father."

Nathan's tone was calm, almost detached, exactly like every other time he informed her of his decision.

An'an was his late elder brother's posthumous son.

After his brother died, Nathan had taken on that responsibility without hesitation. He had practically raised the boy as his own son.

This kind of choice had happened more than once.

And every single time, she was the one who got left behind.

From their student days to marriage, they had looked like the kind of couple other people envied.

But marriage was like drinking water. Only the one holding the cup knew whether it was warm or cold.

At first, Serena Weston had truly felt sorry for Vivian Whitmore, raising her son alone with no one to lean on. So she had agreed that Nathan Whitmore should help when he could.

She had even nodded when Nathan said he would attend An’an’s school parent meeting in place of the boy’s father.

But when Nathan broke his promises again and again, and kept shifting all his attention onto An’an—

everything changed.

"Don’t be mad. Next time, I’ll apologize properly to your dad, okay?"

Serena’s voice sounded drained. "My dad hasn’t seen you in over a year."

In her heart, she added quietly: I haven’t seen you for more than half a month either.

Nathan fell silent for a moment, then said, "Serena, An’an lost his dad the moment he was born."

"I already promised him I’d be there for his parent-child sports day. If I don’t go, he’ll be really upset."

And what about me? Don’t I get upset too?

In the end, Serena still didn’t say it out loud. She didn’t want to fight a child for attention. That would only make her look unreasonable, needy, even a little pathetic.

"I got it."

She hung up, disappointment settling over her like a layer of cold fog.

After that, Serena called her mother back and smoothed things over for Nathan.

She said he had been away on a business trip lately and probably had no way to come. Her mother muttered a few complaints, but didn’t press the matter any further.

Only after the call ended did Serena finally let out a quiet breath.

The next day, she asked her assistant to drive her home. She had not gone back to her parents’ house for several months.

The car stopped at a red light. From the campus beside the road came bursts of laughter and children’s voices, bright and lively.

Almost instinctively, she turned her head to look.

Only then did she realize this was An’an’s school.

Through the iron fence, Serena Weston saw her husband carrying Vivian Whitmore on his back, competing with the others.

Vivian had her head resting on his shoulder, the two of them so close it was honestly hard to look at.

Nathan Whitmore, the man who usually called the shots in the business world like he owned the whole game, was laughing out loud right now, bright and carefree, looking every bit like a real husband. And Vivian, lying against his back, kept cheering him on.

They looked exactly like a loving mom and dad fighting for their child.

They were the first to cross the finish line. When Vivian got down, her ankle twisted slightly. Nathan dropped to one knee at once to check on her, his eyes full of softness and concern.

Serena turned her face away and stopped looking at that scene. It was way too glaring.

Nathan always said she was overthinking, said she was being petty. He always said Vivian was his sister-in-law, that there was no way anything could ever happen between them.

But Vivian had always been like a thorn lodged in Serena’s heart, not fatal, just enough to stab her out of nowhere every now and then.

She wanted to be generous too. Wanted to act like none of this mattered.

Serena took a slow breath. Lately, an overseas organization had invited her to attend an international psychology seminar, and her mentor had been strongly urging her to go.

She had hesitated before. Didn’t really want to leave.

But at that moment, she made up her mind.

She needed time to calm down. And honestly, out of sight, out of mind.

Her assistant’s phone suddenly rang. After answering it, the assistant’s expression changed, and she blurted out, "What? That’s impossible. Okay, let me confirm first. I’ll call you back in a bit."

Serena snapped back to herself. "What happened?"

"Dr. Weston, the documents we submitted yesterday were rejected. They said the system can’t find your marriage registration, and they even said the marriage certificate is fake. Haven’t you and Mr. Whitmore been legally married for five years?"

Serena froze. "What did you just say?"

This training program required a review of marital status. A notarized marriage certificate had to be provided. She had personally sorted out the certificate and handed it over herself. How could there be any problem?

She immediately turned around and rushed to the Civil Affairs Bureau. The staff there had not gotten off work yet. After Serena pulled some strings, someone finally, rather reluctantly, helped her check.

"Sorry, Ms. Weston. There is no marriage registration information for you in the system."

"And the Mr. Nathan Whitmore you asked us to check..." The staff member looked up at her. "His legal spouse is Vivian Whitmore."