Chapter 1

My husband, Keith Sullivan, was over 30 years old. One day, the usually serious man suddenly became obsessed with pink. The dark-colored furniture we had owned for ten years was replaced with pink-colored ones. Even the utensils Keith picked up at random were pink. I stared at the pajamas, bow ties, and underwear he hung on the balcony—all pink. It was very strange. "Didn't you always hate pink and say it was a color that only women liked?" I asked. Keith was unpacking a new pink bedding set and didn't even turn to look at me. "Oh, I made a bet with Quentin. If I turn everything in the house pink, he'll give me his seaside villa," he replied. "Pink's pretty nice once you get used to it, right?" I didn't even respond. Instead, I called Keith's friend, Quentin Monroe, to ask about it. Quentin blurted out, "What seaside villa? I don't remember ever buying one." After I hung up, I looked at Keith, who was lost in the sea of pink in our bedroom. My intuition told me he was cheating on me. But after more than ten years together, I thought I knew him well. I didn't want to jump to conclusions. After some hesitation, I decided to ask Quentin again. Maybe he had just placed the bet casually and forgotten about it. The next moment, Quentin seemed to guess my suspicions. He replied just as I expected, "Sorry, my memory slipped. I just remembered what you asked me about. "That did happen. We had a little too much to drink on Keith's birthday. I joked that if he decorated his place pink, I would give him the seaside villa. "It's just been so long ago that I forgot. Sorry about that, Ann. Please don't misunderstand him." I read his weak, flimsy explanation and replied, "It's fine." Keith's birthday had been two months ago, but his sudden obsession with pink started just a month ago. That was just an excuse full of inconsistencies. I looked at the pink couch cover that I was sitting on. After a moment, I finally sent a message to my assistant, Taylor Fisher. "I need you to look into Keith for me." When I was done, I looked around at the pile of pink things scattered throughout the house. From things as small as utensils to large furniture and even the curtains, the color pink seemed to infest everything. I even felt as if it had seeped into my skin. That sent chills through me, leaving me feeling completely uneasy. Just as I was putting away several pink ornaments, Keith walked out of the bedroom. He presented a pink stuffed toy to me as if showing off something precious. "Ann, don't you think it's cute?" Keith asked. Seeing the indifference in my expression, he immediately turned serious. "If you don't like it, I'll just throw it away. It won't be an eyesore for you." Then, he walked to the trash can. When he saw I had already thrown out a pink vase he brought home, he froze for a moment. He said nothing about it and tossed the toy in too. When he turned back to me, he was wearing a gentle smile. "I thought you would like these kinds of things. Since you don't, I'll get rid of all of them once the bet with Quentin is over, okay?" He seemed to forget that I never cared for cute or childish things. I stayed silent until evening, and he had no choice but to change the bedding back. That night, he suddenly pressed down on me. "Are you still mad?" As he spoke, the pink rhinestone stud in his left ear caught the light. He had gotten it only a month ago, too. I felt a surge of irritation and pushed him away, replying that I wasn't. Only then did he stop, as if he had completed a mission. Then, he grabbed his phone and went into the bathroom. After that, he didn't come out for a long time. Something suddenly occurred to me, and I turned his computer on. The password was my birthday, and as soon as I opened WhatsApp, the messages synced and popped up. A woman with a cutesy pink profile picture had sent him a message. "Are you wearing the pink underwear I got you?" My heart lurched, and then I saw Keith's reply. "I am." The woman said she wanted to check. Keith took a photo and sent it without hesitation. She replied in satisfaction, "What a good little puppy." My whole view of Keith collapsed. I kept scrolling up and saw more messages that left me stunned. In my mind, Keith had always been a serious and proper man. I never imagined that one day I would find him calling a strange woman his owner. I found the woman's Instagram and opened it. It was all in pink, and she never showed her face. Her updates were frequent. There were matching pajamas, hotels, slippers, and all sorts of props. Everything was in pink. In the videos, the man was kneeling in some or lying down in others, but he never showed his face. However, I still recognized him from the deep ring mark on his ring finger. It was Keith. My husband of ten years.