The day Miss Wen opened the door to my office, she brought a manila folder—in it were the men she wanted to destroy and two dead women. She offered me three million to make Zhou Jibai lose cleanly in court. I answered.
A month later I discovered that Ms. Wen's evidence was forged and she knew that Zhou Jibai was my husband half a year ago. As for the policy I pried out from the secret compartment of my husband's closet, my name was written in the beneficiary column.
Behind Miss Wen is a gang that kills his wife and defrauds her of her insurance. Zhou Jibai is not a murderer, but an investigative reporter who has been undercover for two years.
On the day of the trial, I defected in court and reported my client. The price was my law license—conflict of interest, private acceptance of promissory notes, and two-year suspension from practicing law.
After the trial, he drove to pick me up. We looked at each other across the street. In three years of marriage, we have told many lies, stalked each other, and hidden secrets. But for the first time today, we had nothing to hide.
A story about marriage: You think you don't interfere with each other, but in fact you care about each other.
Purpose: Sometimes the deepest secret in a marriage is not betrayal, but that the other person has been carrying it alone for too long.