Gabriel stared at the sheet for a long time.

Then he laughed.

Not because anything was funny.

Because that was what he always did when he felt cornered.

“What is this supposed to mean?”

I closed the folder.

“Exactly what it says.”

“You’re going to abandon my father because you’re angry with me?”

“No.”

I looked directly at him.

“I’m going to stop doing your job for you.”

His face hardened.

“He’s your father-in-law.”

“And your father.”

The room went silent.

For nine years, that sentence had somehow never mattered.

Gabriel picked up the phone from the table and scrolled through the call history.

One missed call.

Three.

Seven.

Twelve.

Eighteen.

His thumb slowed.

Then he opened the recordings.

The first was short.

My voice trembling in the emergency room.

“His father is having a heart attack. I need Gabriel now.”

Then Felicity.

“Director Zhou is with the client.”

Gabriel stopped the audio.

His face changed.

“Why was she answering my phone?”

I almost smiled.

“You tell me.”

“She wasn’t.”

“You just heard her.”

“I mean… she didn’t have my phone.”

I leaned back.

“Then how did she reject three of my calls?”

He didn’t answer.

That question had clearly never occurred to him.

I opened another recording.

This one was from the second night.

Felicity sounded irritated.

“I already told you he’s resting. The negotiations were exhausting.”

My voice:

“His father is in intensive care.”

Then Felicity said something I had not forgotten.

“Naomi, Director Zhou finally has a chance to secure this account. Family problems can wait until he returns.”

Gabriel’s hand tightened around the phone.

“Play that again.”

I did.

His face went white.

“Family problems can wait.”

For the first time since he came home, Gabriel stopped looking angry at me.

Now he looked confused.

Then afraid.

He grabbed his own phone from his pocket.

He started scrolling.

Messages.

Call logs.

Notifications.

His breathing became uneven.

“What?”

I asked.

He didn’t answer.

He opened his settings.

Then his blocked contacts.

My number was there.

Blocked.

Gabriel froze.

I stared at the screen.

So did he.

“I didn’t block you.”

I said nothing.

“I swear to you, Naomi.”

“You rejected my calls.”

“No.”

“Somebody did.”

His eyes slowly moved toward the suitcase near the wall.

For several seconds he didn’t speak.

Then he whispered:

“Felicity used my phone.”

Of course she had.

But hearing him finally say it did not bring the satisfaction I expected.

Instead, I felt tired.

“So ask her.”

Gabriel called immediately.

Felicity answered on the second ring.

Her voice was warm.

“Gabriel? Did you arrive safely?”

His expression became colder than I had ever seen it.

“Why was Naomi’s number blocked on my phone?”

Silence.

I could hear it from across the table.

Then Felicity laughed softly.

“What are you talking about?”

“My wife called eighteen times while my father was having a heart attack.”

Another pause.

“I told you your father wasn’t feeling well.”

Gabriel’s jaw tightened.

“You told me he had a stomach problem.”

“He usually does.”

“He had two stents placed.”

Nothing.

Gabriel stood.

“And why were you answering my calls?”

“Because you asked me to handle interruptions during meetings.”

“Not calls from my wife.”

“You said you didn’t want family drama interfering with the contract.”

Gabriel stopped.

That sentence landed exactly where it needed to.

Because it was true.

Maybe not in the way Felicity was using it.

But true enough.

He had created the door.

She had only walked through it.

“I never told you to hide a heart attack from me.”

Felicity’s voice changed.

“Gabriel, don’t blame me because Naomi is making this dramatic.”

I looked away.

There it was.

Even now.

Gabriel slowly lowered the phone.

Then said:

“Don’t come to the office Monday.”

“What?”

“You’re suspended until I review everything.”

“Gabriel—”

He ended the call.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he looked at me.

“I’m going to the hospital.”

“I assumed you would.”

“Come with me.”

“No.”

His expression cracked.

“Naomi.”

“You know the room number.”

He stepped closer.

“I don’t know what medication he’s taking.”

“The list is in the folder.”

“I don’t know what the doctor said.”

“The discharge plan is clipped behind it.”

“I don’t know what he can eat.”

“There’s a nutrition sheet.”

Every answer made him look smaller.

Because every answer proved how completely I had been carrying a life that belonged to him.

Finally, he whispered:

“You really prepared everything.”

“Yes.”

“For me?”

“No.”

I picked up the last envelope.

“For myself.”

His eyes dropped to it.

“What’s that?”

I placed it on the table.

A consultation receipt from a lawyer.

Gabriel stared at the name at the top.

Then at me.

His voice became very quiet.

“Naomi…”

I stood.

“For years, you told me marriage meant not keeping accounts.”

I pushed the eight-year expense folder toward him.

“So I stopped keeping emotional ones.”

Then I tapped the lawyer’s envelope.

“But financial ones are easier.”

He swallowed.

“Are you divorcing me?”

I picked up my bag.

“I haven’t decided.”

That frightened him more than a yes would have.

Because Gabriel had always believed that no matter how angry I became, I would stay.

I would manage the crisis.

Fix the paperwork.

Call the doctor.

Remember the medication.

Wait.

That evening, he went to the hospital alone.

At 11:43 p.m., my phone rang.

It was not Gabriel.

It was my father-in-law.

His voice was weak.

“Naomi.”

“Dad?”

There was a pause.

Then he said something that made me sit upright.

“Gabriel and Felicity weren’t in Sanya only for work.”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“What do you mean?”

“I found something in his bag.”

My heartbeat slowed.

“A receipt.”

He took a breath.

“Two people. Same hotel room.”

And before I could ask another question, I heard Gabriel’s voice in the background.

“Dad, who are you calling?”

The line immediately went dead.