He Confessed His Affair in a Game, Unaware I’m a Lie Detector

Chapter 3

The doctor cut away the sleeve sticking to my wound and treated the blisters. Every touch felt like salt being rubbed into an open burn. After the bandaging, I dragged my aching arm back to the apartment. I was there to grab my laptop and technical files—to move out for good.

But when I pushed open the door, I found Charlotte sitting on the sofa in Harvey's white dress shirt, bare-legged, her feet propped up on the coffee table. She offered a half-hearted explanation. "The AC at my place broke down. Harvey was afraid I'd get heatstroke, so he told me to stay here for a few days. Don't read into it."

Harvey came out of the kitchen carrying two bowls of dessert. He caught sight of me and a flicker of impatience crossed his eyes, but his voice remained soft. "Charlotte's not well. She's just staying a few days. We're all going to be family soon—don't be so petty."

Charlotte stretched lazily and asked with deliberate nonchalance. "Which controller are we using for the game tonight?"

Harvey looked at her and answered without missing a beat, "Whichever you like. This bed is yours sooner or later anyway."

Charlotte smiled in triumph. And there, on the rug beside the sofa, lay a torn condom wrapper. They'd done disgusting things in the house I was supposed to marry into—and turned every detail into a game, taunting me right to my face.

I gripped the doorframe and retched. Harvey strode over and grabbed my wrist. "Is it wedding jitters again? I'm swamped with work—can you please not make things harder for me?"

He pulled me to the table and pushed a bowl of dessert toward me.

"Cheer up. Have something sweet."

I hadn't eaten all day, and the pain in my arm had left me dazed. Without thinking, I picked up the spoon and took a few bites. Minutes later, my throat tightened. A searing sting spread across my mouth. Red rashes erupted from my neck and raced across my entire body in seconds.

I looked down into the bowl.

Mango.

I had a severe allergy to it—even a trace amount could send me into anaphylactic shock. Three years together, and Harvey had completely forgotten.

I clutched my throat, my face turning purple, unable to make a sound.

Charlotte watched me coldly and asked in a light, airy voice. "How much did that dessert cost?"

Harvey answered with undisguised annoyance, "Doesn't matter. A poor, bookish bore like her doesn't deserve good food anyway."

Then he finally noticed I couldn't stand. I collapsed to the floor. His expression shifted, and he reached out to pick me up. But right then, Charlotte clutched her chest. "Harvey... my heart... I can't breathe..."

His hand stopped midair. In the next second, he turned without hesitation and lifted Charlotte into his arms. "Charlotte! Do you have your nitro pills on you?"

Charlotte shook her head weakly, squeezing out two tears from the corners of her eyes.

Harvey carried her and rushed toward the door. As he passed me, he glanced at my twitching, oxygen-starved body and threw me one last line. "Call 911 yourself. A little allergy won't kill you. Charlotte has a heart condition—I can't let her die!"

The door slammed shut. I lay on the floor, my vision fading fast. With the last shred of survival instinct, I fumbled for my phone, hit the emergency call button, and banged the device against the floor to make a sound.

The screen lit up.

Another message from Director Smith.

Director Smith: Join me for tomorrow afternoon's bidding reception. I want you to meet the heads of the key contenders."