My Best Friend's Deadly Secret

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At my engagement party, I became the biggest laughingstock in the city.

My fiance, Christine, threw an HPV test report right in my face in front of everyone. Behind her, the giant LED screen clearly displayed the results:

Test Result: High-Risk Positive.

Ethan, you slept with someone else behind my back. We are over!

The crowd gasped.

Right then, my best friend, Caleb, rushed onto the stage and shielded me.

His eyes were red, and his voice trembled:

"Christine, stop accusing him! Ethan would never do something like this!"

"You must be the one with the problem!"

The guests below whispered in admiration, praising him for being such a loyal, true friend.

But as for me, my blood ran dead cold.

Because the exact moment he opened his mouth, a wicked, sneering voice echoed clearly in my head:

[Keep acting, you idiot. Last night, Christine was still riding me in my bed.]

[This test report is my special engagement surprise for you.]

I stared at his back, and a cold smile slowly formed on my face.

My best friend. What a great friend indeed.

Since you both want so badly to drag me into hell, then fine. Next, its my turn.

That thin sheet of medical report felt like a resounding slap across my face before it drifted slowly onto the expensive Persian carpet.

The once-bustling, luxurious banquet hall fell into a dead silence.

Hundreds of eyes pinned onto me like blinding spotlights.

On the big screen, the slideshow of our romantic memories had been forcefully replaced by a glaring medical document.

HPV Test Result: High-Risk Positive.

The words, highlighted in blood-red, were magnified a hundred times, burning straight into my retinas like a red-hot iron.

Christine stood in front of me. Her exquisite, high-society face, which she usually took so much pride in, was now distorted with disgust and rage.

Holding the microphone, her voice echoed through the high-end sound system to every corner of the hall.

"Ethan, do you have no shame?"

Her voice wasnt loud, but it was dripping with venom, each word aiming to pin me to the wall of shame.

"I trusted you so much, and this is how you repay me?"

"Carrying a disease like that and still dreaming of marrying me? Do you take me for a trash bin?!"

The crowd erupted.

"Oh my god, he looks like such a decent guy. I can't believe he has an STD..."

"How messy must his private life be? That's disgusting!"

"Poor Christine. She almost married a liar."

Countless looks of disdain, ridicule, and malice pierced my back, locking me onto this stage of humiliation.

I clenched my fists, my knuckles turning white. I humiliatedly bent down to pick up the paper.

I didnt understand. I had barely even held another woman's hand. How could I have this disease? There had to be a mistake!

Just as my fingers were about to touch the paper, a hand gripped my shoulder.

It was Caleb.

My college roommate, my best friend, and the man who was supposed to be my best man today.

He shielded me, turning around to yell at Christine:

"Christine, have you lost your mind? You know what kind of guy Ethan is!"

"This report must be fake! How dare you humiliate him like this in public!"

The scent of my newly opened designer cologne wafted off him. Usually, I found the smell refreshing, but right now, it made my chest feel incredibly tight.

"Ethan, don't worry. The hospital must have messed up!"

He turned back and whispered to me. His voice sounded anxious, but beneath it lay a faint, almost imperceptible trace of smugness.

I gripped his shoulder, grinding my teeth in what I thought was gratitude.

Then, a warm breath brushed past my ear.

A wicked, cheerful voiceone that only I could hearexploded in my head.

[What a loser. Look at that pale face.]

[Of course the hospital didnt mess up. I paid a fortune to have my name swapped with yours on that report.]

[Everything that belonged to you, I've already used.]

[Your razor, your glass, and... your high-and-mighty fiance.]

[You'll never get to experience how wild she was in my bed last night.]

[The spot of the Miller family's son-in-law belongs only to me.]

In that single second, my blood froze into solid ice.

I stared daggers at Caleb's hand on my shoulder.

On his wrist was a brand-new mechanical watch.

It was a limited-edition piece Christine had gifted me for my birthday last month.

I had been too careful to even wear it, keeping it locked in my drawer. Caleb had asked to borrow it "just to show off at a party," and he had never returned it.

The engagement ring on my finger pressed hard against my bone, sending a sharp, stinging pain through my hand.

I shoved Caleb away with all my might.

The force caught him completely off guard, and he tumbled onto the stage with a sharp gasp.

"Ethan... what are you doing?" He looked up at me, his face a perfect picture of shock and hurt.

[What is this psycho doing? That hurt like hell!]

The voice in my head chimed in again, crystal clear and brutally sharp.

I wasnt crazy. I had just, finally, woken up.

I coldly swept my gaze across the whispering crowd, before letting my eyes rest on Christine's hypocritical face.

"The wedding is off. Christine, you disgust me."

With that, I ripped the boutonniere off my suit, turned around, and walked out of the hall without looking back.

I don't even remember how I got back to our shared apartment.

It was pouring rain outside. I hadn't used an umbrella, letting the freezing water ruin my styled hair.

My custom suit was soaked, heavy and clinging to my skin, matching the weight of my heart sinking into the abyss.

My keys scraped against the lock for a long time before the door finally clicked open.

The apartment was dead silent.

Caleb and I had rented this place together for three whole years.

After graduation, to save money and look out for each other, we got this apartment.

I used to think we were each other's strongest support in this cold city.

When he had a fever, I stayed up all night taking care of him.

When I worked late, he would leave a warm meal on the stove.

When I first introduced Christine to him, he had solemnly sworn to vet her for me, promising he wouldn't let any bad woman trick his best bro.

Looking back, every ounce of that trust had turned into barbed wire, wrapping around my throat, drawing blood with every breath.

Barefoot, I walked slowly into the bathroom.

On the wall, two towels hung side by sideone blue, one gray. The gray one was mine.

I remembered folding it perfectly before leaving this morning.

Now, one corner was draped messily, damp with a lingering, suspicious moisture.

On the sink, inside my gray rinsing cup, there was a faint, smudged streak of dark red on the rim.

It was lipstick. The exact shade Christine loved to wear.

I rushed to the toilet, my stomach violently churning, and dry-heaved until tears blurred my eyes.

All the signs had been there. I had just been blind.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed frantically in my pocket, like the dying spasms of a heart.

The screen lit up with 'Jennifer.'

Christine's mother.

I numbly swiped to answer.

There was a heavy, suffocating silence on the other end for several seconds.

"The Miller family cannot have any stain on our name."

Jennifers voice finally came through, cold and hard like iron.

"What happened at the engagement party made us the laughingstock of the city."

"We only agreed to this marriage because we thought you were a decent, honest man. Who knew you were such trash?"

"Youve read the prenup. Cheating on Christine makes you the sole guilty party."

"You are leaving with absolutely nothing. Christines money, the cost of the party, and all the designer jewelryI will have her retrieve them tomorrow."

"You better have every single item ready. If even one thing is missing, we will see you in court."

The line went dead.

The world fell back into silence.

I held my phone. The screen lit up again with a new text from Christine.

It was just five words: "Give me back the ring."

I didn't reply to Christine.

All my raging emotions seemed to have evaporated in the storm, leaving behind a hollow shell filled with icy, calculating hatred.

I walked into my bedroom and pulled open the wardrobe.

My clothes hung inside, and at the very end was my most prized possessiona custom designer suit jacket.

It was my reward to myself after winning Top Sales of the Year last year.

I remembered it disappearing last week.

I had turned the room upside down, sweating and anxious, while Caleb had simply said, "Haven't seen it. Maybe you misplaced it somewhere."

Now, it hung there, pristine and spotless.

Except for the collar, which carried a very faint, yet incredibly familiar scent.

It was the luxury car diffuser scent Christine always used.

My fingers turned white as I opened Instagram on my phone.

I clicked on a mutual friends profile. Three days ago, they had posted a carousel of photos with the caption: "Yacht party this weekend, so much fun!"

In one of the group photos, Christine and Caleb stood shoulder to shoulder.

Caleb was grinning, wearing my missing custom suit jacket.

Christine's hand was casually resting on the railing behind him, wrapping around him in an incredibly possessive stance.

I zoomed in on the photo. Closer. Closer. Until the pixels became blurry.

On Caleb's wrist, there was a black braided leather cord.

Hanging from it was a small, simple silver signet ring.

It was the only heirloom my father had left me. I treasured it like life itself, keeping it locked at the very bottom of my jewelry box, never daring to wear it.

"Ha..." A cold laugh escaped my lips, sounding echoing and creepy in the empty room.

Using my towel. Wearing my clothes. Wearing my dad's ring. Sleeping with my fiance.

Caleb, you really are a piece of work.

Around ten in the evening, the lock clicked.

Caleb was back.

He carried two large bags of my favorite snacks, his face painted with the perfect amount of worry and exhaustion, as if he were a hero who had rushed back just to save me.

"Ethan, look what I got you! Your favorite beef jerky and cheese crackers."

He tossed the bags onto the coffee table. The loud rustle aggressively shattered the silence of the room.

"Don't take today's stuff to heart," he said, walking over and reaching out to pat my shoulder. "That bitch Christine didn't deserve you anyway! I already chewed her out for you!"

I sat on the sofa and casually leaned aside, dodging his touch.

His hand froze awkwardly in mid-air, a crack appearing on his perfect mask of 'concern.'

"Ethan, what's wrong? Are you still hurting?"

I didn't answer. I just looked up, slowly studying him.

I looked at his face, his eyes, and the watch on his wrist that belonged to me.

This was a face I had looked at for seven years, yet right now, it made me physically sick.

He quickly adjusted his expression, continuing his sickening act with a voice full of fake sympathy.

"I know you must be feeling terrible right now. It's okay, I'm here for you."

"Once this all blows over, I promise I'll introduce you to someone way better. Someone a hundred times better than Christine!"

[Ugh, what a loser, sitting there like a corpse.]

[The Miller family's wealth is finally mine.]

[Christine was so worried about me when I fell on the stage. She spent hours comforting me in her car just now.]

[Once you pack your bags and get lost, the first thing I'm doing is throwing all your trash out. Such an eyesore.]

[And that cheap silver ring his dead dad left him? So tacky. I'm sick of wearing it anyway. Tomorrow, I'll have Christine buy me a Rolex.]

The voice in his head grew louder, more vicious, and more arrogant.

But with every word, my mind became terrifyingly clear.

I picked up the bag of beef jerky from the coffee table and slowly tore it open.

With oily fingers, I pulled out a piece and held it up right before his startled eyes.

"Don't you love this?" My voice was gentle, like a casual chat, showing no emotion.

Caleb froze. He clearly hadn't expected this reaction from me.

[What is he doing? Trying to poison me?]

[Hmph, like he has the balls. He's probably just traumatized and trying to please me.]

He hid the suspicion in his eyes and forced a smile. "Thanks, Ethan. You always know me best."

He opened his mouth to take the jerky.

But a second before his lips could touch it, I flipped my wrist.

The jerky brushed past his cheek and fell onto the floor.

Then, I raised my greasy hand.

And using the back of my fingers, I slowly, humiliatingly tapped his smooth, expensive-skincare-coated cheek.

"Caleb," I whispered, watching his pupils shrink in shock, "You're dirty."

The fake smile on his face shattered completely.

[Does he... know?]

[Impossible! I did everything perfectly. Even the hospital report was swapped by someone I paid off. He's too stupid to find out!]

[He must be driven crazy by today's shock. Yes, he's lost his mind!]

I coldly retracted my hand, as if I had touched garbage. I walked over to the balcony and picked up the tub of dirty cat litter I was planning to throw away.

Coming back to the living room, right under his furious gaze, I dumped the entire tub of dirty litter right into the bags of "comfort snacks" he brought.

The gray clumps and smelly yellow bits rained down, burying the neatly packaged snacks.

A pungent stench of ammonia and decay instantly filled the room.

Calebs face turned from pale to green, and then to a furious, bright red.

"Ethan! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

He finally ripped off his mask, screaming as he jumped back to protect his limited-edition sneakers.

I tossed the empty tub at his feet. It hit the hardwood floor with a loud, hollow clatter.

"What's wrong with me?" I finally smiled, but the smile was ice-cold.

Ignoring his screaming, I walked straight into his bedroom and threw his wardrobe open.

I was greeted by the scent of expensive cologne, along with several luxury brand clothes and shoe boxes I had never seen before.

I reached in and pulled out a designer hoodie that still had the tag on.

[How dare he touch my things?!]

[Christine just bought me that last week!]

[It's a limited edition! I was going to wear it to our date tomorrow!]

Deaf to the screaming in his head, I gripped the hoodie and walked back to the living room.

"Caleb, you make three grand a month. After rent, you can barely afford to eat. How did you buy this?"

I threw the hoodie hard at his face. The price tag showing "0-0,800" hit him like a physical slap.

"Without eating or drinking, you'd have to save for two months for this."

He stumbled back, desperately catching the hoodie as if it were a lifesaver.

"I... I used a personal shopper! It was on sale! Super cheap!"

His eyes darted around wildly as he stammered, his voice lacking any real confidence.

[He can't find out. He absolutely cannot!]

[If he finds out I'm using Christine's money and makes a scene at the Miller estate, Jennifer will destroy me!]

"Is that so?" I nodded, pretending to believe his terrible lie.

I unlocked my phone and opened my banking app right in front of him.

"What a coincidence. I wanted to buy some things too. Give me your personal shopper's contact."

"I recall that after graduation, to make utility bills easier, we set up a joint credit card account under your name."

"And every month, the bank sends the statements to my email."

My finger slid slowly across the screen, my gaze cutting like a knife across his pale face.

"Let's see your statement for this month..."

Caleb stopped breathing. He stared at my phone as if it were a live bomb.

The screen lit up. The statement was long, and every large expense was clearly documented.

Not a single one was from a "personal shopper."

But there was a charge for 0-0,800 at a high-end department store, and another for 0-0,200 at a luxury suite.

The merchant was the Sky Hotela five-star luxury hotel famous in the city.

The date of the transaction: last Friday night.

The exact night my custom suit went missing.

I zoomed in on the hotel charge and took a screenshot.

The sharp camera click sounded like a death knell, ending our seven-year friendship.

"Sky Hotel, Presidential Suite. Caleb, does your personal shopper also provide bedroom services?" I sneered.

Calebs lips trembled violently, but he couldn't squeeze out a single word.