Genevieve POV:   Three hours ago, a fringe roster player who had been riding the bench since his knee injury named Crawford Hayden sent me a location pin and a text saying my husband was sleeping with his wife.  At the moment, I'm sitting in this shabby Ford pickup, looking through the rain-soaked windshield at the brightly lit luxury VIP cabin ahead. The whole carriage was filled with the breath of depression. "Ready to face reality?"   Crawford pulled the key from the ignition with a sharp metallic click. He turned his head, his ice-blue eyes cutting through the dark cab with a faint, amused gleam. I turned my head and studied him—the relaxed set of his shoulders, the way he sat utterly at ease in the tense silence. "You don't look like the kind of poor man whose wife cheated. More like a person who likes to watch two marriages break up. " Crawford's lips curved into a lazy smirk. "I just hope you'll still be this composed when you see exactly who your husband is sleeping with." I let out a cold laugh, turned my head to look at him, and then I pushed open the heavy door. In an instant, the cold sleet hit my face, and the tingling was as unbearable as my husband's betrayal. But the next moment Crawford's six-foot-four body suddenly came around the front of the car, blocking most of the wind. We walked across the muddy flagstones toward the cabin. The roar of rain hitting the pines drowned out our footsteps. As we rounded the side woods, a low pine branch snagged my trench coat. My heel slipped in the mud, and I pitched forward. Crawford caught my wrist before my knees hit the dirt. The rough calluses on his palm burned through my soaked sleeve as he hauled me upright. I found my footing."Thank you."   I tried to pull my wrist back. His grip only tightened. A moment ago in the truck he had acted as if none of this mattered, and now that we were actually about to see it, he was tense enough to forget to let go. He kept his grip tight and pulled me low into the dark shadows of the cabin's back deck. Warm yellow light spilled from the floor-to-ceiling windows ahead. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn, except for a two-inch gap right in the center. Rainwater dripped from my hair into my eyes, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand to focus on the room inside. The first thing I saw on the Persian rug was a custom charcoal suit jacket. I had steamed that exact jacket for my husband, Dedric Waller, before he left for his away game schedule last week. A high, syrupy laugh cut through the glass. "Dedric, baby, when are you finally going to dump that boring researcher?" When this sweet and greasy female voice came out, I froze in place. I dug my fingernails into the wet wooden railing until the splinters bit into my skin. Through the gap, two half-naked bodies twisted together on the leather sofa. It belonged to Kamryn Mccormick, my best friend of ten years. Dedric, my husband, the star forward the media worshiped as a devoted family man, had his face buried in Kamryn's neck. For me, this is a bigger blow than my husband's infidelity, the knowledge that I was betrayed by the closest and most trusted people around me made my knees weak. Crawford stepped up silently behind me, pressing his broad chest against my back and gripping my shoulder with one large hand to hold me up. Inside, Dedric lifted his head. The small puck scar above his eyebrow gleamed under the chandelier as he pinched Kamryn's chin. "What's the rush? I still need her pathetic Vanguard Institute salary to balance the books for my charity foundation." Blood roared in my ears. I lunged forward to smash the glass, but Crawford locked his arm around my waist and pinned me against his chest. He bent his head, his hot breath brushing my wet neck. "Go in there now, and all you get is an ugly screaming match." My chest heaved as I fought for air. Suddenly, the phone inside my coat pocket buzzed violently against my hip. I pulled it out. Dedric's name flashed on the screen. Two feet away through the glass, my husband leaned back against the sofa cushions, one arm wrapped around Kamryn's bare waist while his other hand held his phone to his ear. I swiped to answer and pressed the icy screen to my ear. My throat closed up completely. Dedric's smooth, practiced voice came through the speaker. "Goodnight, sweetheart. Coach kept us on the ice late for extra drills. I'm already in bed at the team hotel, so don't wait up." As he spoke to me, he tilted his head down and kissed Kamryn right on the mouth. I bit down hard on my knuckles and forced out a single word. "Okay."   The second the call ended, the strength drained from my fingers. My phone slipped and hit the wooden deck with a loud thud. Inside, Dedric jerked his head toward the window. "What was that?" Crawford clapped a hand over my mouth, lifted me off my feet, and dragged me backward into the deepest corner of the deck shadows. Dedric walked to the glass and peered out into the storm, standing less than two feet away from where we stood. After a few agonizing seconds, he sneered and yanked the velvet curtains shut. Crawford slowly lowered his hand from my mouth, his ice-blue eyes locking onto mine in the dark. "Now, how do you want to hit back?"

Genevieve POV: My back hit the freezing wooden wall of the deck as rainwater poured down my face, washing away two years of playing the obedient hockey wife. I did not answer Crawford. I shoved his chest with both hands, spun around, and bolted down the deck stairs into the blinding rain. Mud sucked at my heels as I ran down the dark resort path. Every time I blinked, I saw Dedric's mouth on Kamryn's skin, the betrayal cut through me like a blade. Heavy footsteps splashed behind me. Crawford caught up in three long strides, though he did not grab me again. He stayed half a step to my left, using his forearm to sweep low-hanging pine branches out of my path. When I reached a dim streetlamp near the edge of the resort grounds, my lungs gave out. My knees hit a deep puddle, splashing icy water over my coat, and I stood in the rain, chest heaving, and pressed my palms against my thighs until the shaking turned into something steady. A heavy waterproof jacket landed over my head and shoulders, wrapping me in the warm scent of cedarwood and men's aftershave. Crawford dropped to one knee in the mud in front of me. He gripped my chin with his rough fingers and forced my head up. "Done crying? If you're done, get up." I stared at the wet black hair plastered to his forehead and the hard set of his jaw. The hysteria choking my chest slowly receded, leaving a cold, hollow calm in its wake. I met his eyes. "I'm not crying.This is just rainwater.I never cry for people who don't deserve it." For a moment, something flickered in his ice-blue stare—surprise, maybe, or pleasure. Then he stood and held out his hand. I gripped his forearm and let him pull me to my feet. He turned his hand over, locked his warm fingers around my freezing ones, and led me off the main road toward the service entrance of the resort's West Wing. We slipped past two patrolling security guards near the loading dock. Crawford moved like he owned the place, pulling a matte-black, unmarked keycard from his pocket to unlock a hidden side door. We stepped into a heated hallway lined with thick carpet that led straight to the VIP suites. Crawford stopped in front of a pair of double walnut doors, tapped the black card against the sensor, and pushed the door open. I followed him inside. Real logs crackled in a massive stone fireplace, lighting up a living room that cost more per night than my monthly lab budget. Looking down at my mud-caked heels, I took half a step back toward the door. Crawford tossed his wet shirt onto a leather bench, walked to the wall panel to turn up the heat, and rolled up the sleeves of his thermal undershirt. "Get in the shower. Don't make me repeat myself." He turned around, his gaze dropping to where my soaked blouse clung to my collarbone. His jaw tightened for half a second before he looked away and walked toward the wet bar. Pulling his oversized jacket tighter around myself, I walked into the marble bathroom and locked the door. I stood under the scalding spray until my fingers stopped trembling and the mud washed down the drain. When I turned off the water, I realized I had nothing dry to put on. I wrapped a thick white bath sheet around my chest, tucked the corner in tight, and opened the door. Out in the living room, Crawford sat in an armchair facing the fire with a glass of neat whiskey in his hand. At the sound of the door, he looked over. His eyes tracked from my wet hair down to my bare calves below the towel. The air in the room grew thick and heavy. Setting his glass on the table, he stood up, pulled a crisp black dress shirt from the closet, and tossed it onto the sofa. "Put that on. I had room service bring it up." I picked up the shirt, turned my back to him right there by the sofa, and slipped it on over the towel before dropping the terrycloth to the floor. The hem hung down to mid-thigh. Crawford walked over to the hearth and handed me a mug of steaming black tea. His knuckles brushed the back of my hand, sending a sharp jolt straight up my arm. I sat on the edge of the sofa, holding the hot ceramic between my palms as I stared into the flames. Two years of swallowing Dedric's insults and shrinking my career for his ego crashed over me all at once. Crawford did not say a word. He walked over and sat down on the thick rug right beside my knees, leaning his broad back against the sofa frame like a solid wall between me and the door. His silence steadied my breathing. Ten minutes passed before I set the mug down and looked at him. "Why are you helping me?" Crawford tilted his head back, the firelight cutting sharp shadows across his cheekbones. "Because the woman inside that cabin is my wife. On paper, at least.They took us for fools. I don't plan on letting them walk away clean." He stood up, towering over me with his hands in his pockets, looking less like a benched hockey player and more like an executioner. "Anyone could see how brilliant you were before you married him," he said quietly, his eyes on the flames. "Top of your class. Publishable research. Then you married Dedric Waller and your career went downhill from there." His fingers tightened around the glass. "He's like a vampire. He drained the best years of your life and the best work you'll ever do." I turned to stare at him. There was a fire burning in his ice-blue eyes—real, raw anger. "Why does my miserable life make you so angry?"

Genevieve POV: Crawford looked at me for a long, silent moment. Then he sighed, his voice filled with a sense of resignation and sorrow. "My wife is in your husband's bed right now. Shouldn't I be angry? " He leaned closer, his voice dropping low."I think you're probably quite upset too. The best way to retaliate against a cheating husband is to reclaim your own life and make him witness your happiness with another man. This is undoubtedly a profound insult to a man's dignity. " I frowned. "This is why you decided to inform me today?But why should I do this your way?" Crawford crouched down in front of me，then took my hand and pressed my palm flat against his chest. "Because you won't find a better partner for revenge than me. We share a common goal of revenge.Trust me. You won't lose anything." Through the thin fabric of his shirt, I could feel the heat of his skin, the hard wall of muscle beneath. "You don't look like you're just taking revenge. It seems to have ulterior motives." Then I pulled my hand back and stood up. "Sorry, I'm going to bed first," I said, and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind me. When I got up the next morning, and the suite was empty, save for my dried clothes folded on the armchair and a handwritten note under a room key on the coffee table: Parking lot. The beat-up truck. Ten minutes later, dressed in my own clothes, I walked out of the resort's side exit and spotted the rusted Ford pickup parked between a Porsche and a Range Rover. Crawford leaned against the driver's door with a cigarette between his fingers. When he saw me approaching, he crushed the stub under his boot heel, walked around to pull open the passenger door, and jerked his chin for me to get in. We drove down the mountain highway in silence, the cab smelling faintly of tobacco and pine. Three hours later, he pulled into a roadside gas station outside Denver. While Crawford pumped gas, I walked over to the convenience store awning and called Darcy, my closest friend and the head of PR at Vanguard Sports Science Institute. "Darcy, I need to take a few personal days. Can you cover my lab schedule until Friday?" Darcy's sharp, no-nonsense voice came through the line immediately. "Genevieve, you sound terrible. Did Dedric pull another stunt? Say the word and I'll have media contacts bury him before lunch." I pressed my thumb and forefinger against the bridge of my nose to stop the ache behind my eyes. "I'm fine, just exhausted. I'll explain everything when I'm back in the office." I hung up before she could press me, walked back to the truck, and climbed into the passenger seat. Crawford started the engine and merged back onto the interstate, driving straight toward the gated Cherry Hills neighborhood where Dedric and I lived. I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes, letting the hum of the road drown out the noise in my head.I didn't open them again until the truck stopped. The first thing I saw was the wrought-iron back gate of my own villa. I had only told him the general area. But he directly drove me home. I turned on him, fury rising fast."Did you follow me before? How do you know where I live?" Crawford reached into the backseat and pulled out a faded navy baseball cap with a local plumbing company logo, along with a worn toolbox. He set the box on his lap, eyes wide and innocent. "Relax. I fix pipes on the side. You fell asleep, so I got a head start. My job's just around the corner—didn't expect it to be your place." I stared at him, half-convinced. When I punched my code into the back gate keypad and led him across the manicured lawn. As soon as I opened the foyer door, our housekeeper, Brenda Kowalski, stepped out of the dining room holding a feather duster. Dedric had hired her himself, and she reported my every move to him like a paid warden. Brenda's beady eyes raked over Crawford's broad shoulders and muddy boots. "Mrs. Waller, Mr. Waller didn't mention any maintenance scheduled for today before he left for his road trip." I turned my head and looked at Crawford.He had played me. Again. But I finally didn't expose him. I straightened my spine and cut her off in a flat, icy tone. "The master bath drain is backed up, Brenda. Or would you prefer I wait until Dedric gets home so he can plunge it himself?" Brenda blinked, clearly thrown off by my sharp tone. She pursed her lips and stepped aside, though her gaze stayed glued to Crawford's back as we walked past. I led Crawford up the curved staircase, pushed open the double doors to the master suite, and turned the deadbolt with a loud click. The room smelled heavily of Dedric's designer cologne. His framed magazine covers lined the wall, and his custom suits hung in the open dressing room. My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. I marched across the carpet and yanked the heavy curtains wide open to let the sunlight in. When I spun around, I nearly collided with Crawford, who had followed me silently to the window. He stood inches away, his massive frame blocking the room behind him, wrapping me in the heat radiating off his skin. "This whole house reeks of his fake life," Crawford said, his voice dropping to a low gravel as he looked down at me. "Are you really going to keep swallowing it?" I backed up half a step until the cold marble windowsill pressed against my spine, then lifted my chin and looked him straight in the eye. "Whether I can stomach it is my business. But that doesn't give you the right to lie to me again and walk into my private life." Crawford raised his right hand and laid his rough palm against the side of my neck, his thumb pressing lightly over my pulse. "But you didn't say no, did you? You got in my truck. You didn't call me out on my lie. You let me in here. Your answer is already pretty clear, isn't it?" His thumb against my pulse sent a shudder through me. My brain was screaming at me to walk away, but something dark and hungry stirred deep inside me, working against every sane thought I had. I reached up and grabbed his wrist, my knuckles going white, my breathing shallow. "You're right," I whispered, my voice trembling with sudden resolve. "Then take it. Right now. Right here." Crawford's ice-blue eyes darkened instantly. He flipped his wrist, locked his fingers around mine, and pulled me flush against his chest. "Do you have any idea what kind of fire you're playing with, Genevieve?" His chest vibrated against mine as he spoke. "I'm no gentleman." "Isn't this exactly what you wanted? Why play the decent man now?" I rose on my toes until my nose almost brushed his. "And I'm done playing the good wife."