Marcus Shaw was still lost in thought when Dr. Maren Frost burst out of an office and nearly collided with him. He tried to compose himself and greet her normally, but she glared and spat out: "You're despicable."
Marcus Shaw was taken aback. Seeing her furious expression, he asked: "How did I offend you?"
Dr. Maren Frost flicked her ponytail and pointed at his nose: "Acting, keep acting. You know full well what you did—do I need to remind you? Shameless!"
Her voice rose. Marcus Shaw glanced outside and at the other colleagues, quickly gestured for her to stop, and guided her into the conference room.
He barely closed the glass door before Dr. Maren Frost pulled out her phone and slapped it on the table.
Marcus Shaw picked it up, and his eyes went wide.
Starting two days ago, every evening around eight or nine, his WeChat had sent her messages:
"I still can't forget you."
"I'm happy every time I see you."
"I want to kiss you so badly."
"I want us to be together."
...
Getting more rhyming—and more nauseating—with each line.
Unbelievable.
Marcus Shaw's face burned. He almost threw the phone—then remembered it was hers—and slapped it back on the table: "Impossible! I never sent these. They have nothing to do with me." He pulled out his own phone, opened his chat with her—completely empty, nothing there.
"Right, you deleted them fast enough. Now you can deny everything."
Marcus Shaw paced, nearly shouting: "I never sent those! If I'm lying, I'm a dog!"
They glared at each other for a long time. Finally, Dr. Maren Frost looked away and said: "Then... then maybe someone hacked your phone?"
"Impossible. I slept alone last night—the phone was under my pillow. Nobody could've touched it. And the night before that, I was the only one on duty at the station. What, is it a ghost?"
Both fell silent. The conclusion was that his WeChat had been hacked.
Marcus Shaw smacked his forehead: "No wonder it kept logging me out these past two days. Captain Reed sent me a weird message too—I didn't think much of it, didn't follow up."
Realizing she'd wronged him, Dr. Maren Frost quickly changed the subject: "Vik said you're actually married? I can let it go, but he says he's been your partner for three years and only found out today. I don't understand—what's the point of hiding it?"
Marcus Shaw stammered, mouth malfunctioning, and finally blurted: "It was an arranged marriage. We have no feelings for each other." His face felt hot, like his pores were on fire. He immediately wished he hadn't said it that way.
Before he could correct himself, Dr. Maren Frost said: "Arranged marriages—still? In this day and age? I don't buy it. And 'no feelings'—I think you're just using me as an excuse. I made myself clear back then: you and I aren't compatible. Now that you're married, be a proper husband."
Marcus Shaw's face was tomato-red. His throat felt like it was filled with wet cement—he couldn't squeeze out a single word. He hammered his fist against his thigh in frustration.
But his senior wasn't done. She raised an eyebrow: "Don't think I didn't see your wife just now. She's not bad-looking. Nice temperament. That long braid—I'm jealous. The way she cowers around you tells me everything about how you treat her."
Marcus Shaw's whole body trembled: "That's nonsense! What do you know? Who says I treat her badly? This is between my wife and me—who are you to judge?"
Dr. Maren Frost's face flushed, then she laughed: "Now that's better. That's the right attitude."
Marcus Shaw had had enough. He turned to leave.
At the door, she called after him: "Oh, by the way—since it comes up, I might as well tell you. Lucas Lutz and I are together. I pursued him. That seriousness of his reminds me of my father."
Marcus Shaw turned, half-smiling: "Aren't you full of yourself. Date whoever you want—what's that got to do with me?"
Back in the office, Marcus Shaw felt strange. Not sad—just irritated.
Not because she'd chosen Lucas Lutz instead of him. Different strokes for different folks—he'd made his peace with that long ago.
What angered him was her presumption about his family. You're not me. You're not Nora. How can you declare that I treat my wife poorly?
But the annoyance gradually lost steam, and doubt crept in. Was Nora's demeanor really that obvious? Could any random person tell she was afraid of him?
His thoughts churning, Silas from the mail room appeared and tossed him an envelope.
Another anonymous letter.
Only then did Marcus Shaw remember—it was Wednesday.
He'd been so busy lately his head was spinning, he'd lost track of the days. He tore it open: another news clipping about a car accident, this time in Guangzhou.
His head ached. Too tired to investigate, he tossed it in the drawer.
Viktor Dunn, oblivious to moods, sidled up grinning: "Bro, you really are something. Got married and didn't tell me? Thought I couldn't afford the wedding gift?"
Marcus Shaw said nothing, kept typing his review report.
Viktor Dunn persisted, propping himself on the desk: "Sister-in-law is pretty fine. That beauty mark on her face—no wonder you kept her hidden. Come on, tell me—when are you having kids?"
Still no response. Marcus Shaw's keyboard clattered.
Just then, Viktor Dunn's phone rang. He tilted against the desk, chatted loudly, laughed heartily. After hanging up, he grabbed both sides of Marcus Shaw's monitor and said: "If nothing's up, I'm heading out. Neighbor set me up with another girl—time to work it."
Marcus Shaw pushed the keyboard away. "Go, go. Always acting like you're in heat. Blind dates are your real calling. When's the last time one actually worked out? Go look in a mirror."
The room went silent.
He expected Viktor Dunn to laugh it off like always, crack a joke, play the clown.
But this time, he was wrong.
Viktor Dunn jumped to his feet, kicked his chair aside, and fired off: "Yeah, I'm in heat! You get to be married, but I'm not allowed to date? Your happiness counts, but mine doesn't? It's always about you. Right—I'm just your sidekick. I owe you from way back. Still haven't paid it off, apparently. Fine, I'll keep paying. I'll go work my ass off on cases so Your Highness can be satisfied!"
He snatched a stack of case files off the desk, kicked the door open, and left.
Marcus Shaw sat frozen. Something was poking his thigh—he reached into his pocket and found the medicine Nora had brought.