My Fiancé's Laptop Became His Downfall

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I bought a secondhand laptop online. When I opened it, the wallpaper was a full nude photo of my fianc, Lachlan.

I was stunned. Was this fate bringing something that belonged to him back to me?

Just as I was about to call Lachlan to ask what was going on, the seller frantically started calling me:

"I made a mistake! I sent you my boyfriend's laptop by mistake!"

"There are really important work files on that computerdon't touch anything! I'll send you the correct laptop right away. I'll cover the shipping!"

Listening to the sweet, delicate voice on the other end of the line, my heart instantly sank.

When did Lachlan get another girlfriend besides me?

After hanging up, I forced myself to calm down, my fingers trembling as I moved the mouse.

Apart from that wallpaper, the desktop was suspiciously cleanjust one folder labeled "My Treasure."

Lachlan had once created a folder with that exact name for me, filled with photos of us from childhood to now.

My heart pounded wildly as an absurd thought exploded in my mind.

Was Lachlan cheating on me?

The thought only lingered for a second before I crushed it.

Because I knew perfectly well that even if every man in the world cheated, Lachlan would be the exception.

After all, we were childhood sweethearts who grew up together in the same neighborhood, watched over by everyone.

He loved meloved me enough to remember my period every month and have hot milk ready in advance.

Loved me enough that the passwords to his phone, computer, and all his social media accounts were my birthday.

Besides, our wedding was only two weeks away. This had to be a misunderstanding.

I took a deep breath, as if trying to suppress the inexplicable panic rising in my chest.

Double-click. The folder opened.

What appeared before my eyes were intimate photos of Lachlan with an unfamiliar girl.

All the blood in my body seemed to freeze instantly, like lightning striking me, the shock making every organ in my body ache.

I looked through them one by one. Every single photo mocked my self-deception.

Lachlan really was cheating.

And I had been lost in the joy of soon becoming his bride. How ridiculous.

I don't know how long I sat there in a daze before I finally calmed down.

The first thing I did was open my phone and book a flight to Paris in seven days.

That was the dream destination I had once given up to be with Lachlan.

Now, I was going to pick up my paintbrush again and pursue the artistic dream that had been shelved by love for too long.

Next, I packaged all those disgraceful photos from the computer and sent them to my best friend, Zoey.

Zoey's call came through immediately, her voice full of shock and fury:

"Harper! That bastard! Just waitI'm getting people together right now to destroy him!"

I interrupted her, my voice terrifyingly calm:

"No need. Saturday, at our families' engagement party, I'll handle it myself. I need your help with something. I'm going to give Lachlan a big gift."

Just as I finished speaking, Lachlan's voice suddenly sounded behind me, his tone light and tender:

"Harper, guess what I brought you?"

He was carrying cream puffs from my favorite shop. When he saw my face, the smile on his face instantly froze.

"Harper? What's wrong? Why are your eyes so red?"

He dropped the bags and quickly walked over, reaching out to hug me. I instinctively dodged.

I opened my mouth, my voice sounding dry and unlike my own:

"Lachlan, you..."

Just as I was about to tear away this layer of false warmth, his phone rang abruptly.

Lachlan instinctively glanced at the caller ID, and his expression changed instantly.

He quickly pressed silent and flipped the phone face-down on the table, his movements so fast it seemed like he was hiding something.

"A... telemarketer," he explained, his tone somewhat unnatural.

But I had seen it. The moment the screen lit up, the caller ID showed "Quinn."

Watching him panic while trying to maintain composure, I found it unbearably ironic.

I looked up at him and asked softly, "Lachlan, do you love me?"

He looked stunned by my question, then laughed and affectionately tapped my nose.

"Silly girl, why ask that? If I don't love you, who would I love?"

I stared into his eyes, asking word by word:

"What about Tara Quinn? Do you love her too?"

Tara Quinnthat was the seller's name.

The doting smile on Lachlan's face crumbled inch by inch.

He stared at me blankly. After a few seconds, he finally found his voice, tinged with disbelief.

"Harper, what are you talking about? Where did you hear that name?"

Within just one second, that familiar face had taken on an expression of hurt and helplessness.

He reached out to touch my face, his voice low and aggrieved:

"Harper, Tara Quinn is a new intern in my department. There was a problem with a project today, and I just helped her out."

The wounded look of being falsely accused was perfectly calibrated.

If I hadn't seen those photos with my own eyes, I would have thought I was being unreasonable.

He tried to pull me into his arms, his voice softening even more, as if coaxing a child throwing a tantrum.

"Is the wedding stress getting to you?"

"Don't overthink it. After fifteen years together, don't you trust me?"

I looked at his face, so close to mine, yet instinctively pushed him away.

This action made the hurt in his eyes deepen. His voice carried a barely perceptible tremor:

"Harper, what's wrong with you? Did someone say something to you?"

Just as I was about to pull out that laptop and throw all the sordid evidence in his face, his phonestill face-down on the tablevibrated again.

This time it wasn't a call, but a message.

He instinctively reached for it, but I was faster, catching a glimpse of the calendar reminder that popped up on the screen.

[Today at 5 PM: Pick up Devotion.]

My heart clenched suddenly.

Devotion was the name of the first painting I'd ever sold.

That year, when I had just started college, my work was hung in the school gallery with no buyers.

Finally, a mysterious buyer purchased it.

Much later, I learned that buyer was Lachlan.

He hung the painting in our future marital home, pointing at my messy signature on it and saying:

"For the rest of my life, I'll marry no one but you."

That painting was the beginning of our love, the unique, devoted love he promised me.

Seeing that I'd noticed the reminder, a flash of annoyance crossed Lachlan's face, which then softened into helpless tenderness.

He handed me his phone and opened the note for that reminder.

It read: Harper's wedding ringinspired by the painting, named with love.

He sighed and gently hugged me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder.

"I wanted to surprise you the day before the wedding, but you discovered it early."

"I found a designer in France and had the compositional elements of Devotion made into a ring. Harper, our rings are one-of-a-kind in the whole world."

His voice carried a smile, warm breath falling on my ear.

"Don't be angry anymore, okay? I admit, that Tara Quinn pestered me with some talk, but I rejected her."

"In my world, besides you, there's no room for anyone else."

He paused and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"I'm going out to pick up the ring. It's too cold outsidestay home and wait for me. I'll be back soon to keep you company."

I pulled my hand back, my voice eerily calm: "Go ahead."

As soon as Lachlan left, I grabbed my phone to check the transaction records on the secondhand platform.

The seller's name was Tara Quinn, and the address was a high-end apartment complex in the western part of the city.

Once, Lachlan had pointed at a billboard for that place and said to me:

"Harper, I bought you a small place there. You can paint there in peace from now on!"

I had been so happy then, thinking it was another testament to our love.

Now, it had become the cruelest irony.

I opened a rideshare app and entered the address.

Half an hour later, the car stopped at the entrance to the complex.

I immediately spotted Lachlan's familiar black Range Rover.

I didn't go in, just stood in the shadows across the street.

Before long, the building door opened.

Lachlan walked out with a petite figure.

I recognized her immediately as the girl from the photosTara Quinn.

Tara clung intimately to his arm, practically hanging on him.

She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

And Lachlan looked down at her with a hint of indulgent affection at the corner of his mouththe same way he'd looked at me for the past fifteen years.

My hands and feet went ice cold, yet I instinctively raised my phone's camera and pointed it at them.

My stomach churned violently, worse than when I'd first seen those photos.

Tara tilted her face up, seeking a kiss. Lachlan didn't push her awayhe just smiled helplessly and tapped her forehead with his finger.

"Stop it. What if someone sees?"

Tara shook his arm insistently, her voice coquettish:

"So what if they see? Your fiance loves you so much that even if she found out, she'd just assume I seduced you."

Lachlan's face hardened, his voice cold with warning:

"I told you clearly before we got togetherI have my responsibilities and my boundaries. Harper is the person I'm going to marry. That will never change."

Tara pouted and pulled an exquisite velvet box from her purse, holding it out to Lachlan.

"Okay, okay, don't be mad. I promise I won't make a scene in front of her. Look what I got you!"

"Can we call our rings Devotion too?"

Lachlan's expression stiffened for a moment. He looked at Tara, and finally smiled:

"You little vixen."

I watched him accept that ring and slide it onto his ring finger.

The design of that ring was seventy to eighty percent similar to the wedding ring he'd just described to methe one supposedly inspired by my painting.

The last trace of warmth I'd felt for these fifteen years completely dissipated.

I recorded this final scene, put away my phone, turned around, and hailed a cab.

Back home, I didn't turn on the lights.

In the darkness, I sat on the sofa, replaying that video over and over.

Watching the hesitation that flashed across Lachlan's face when he put on that ring, followed by his eventual surrender.

None of it was an accident.

That laptop, that wallpaperall of it was a trap Tara had carefully designed.

Just waiting for me, the legitimate fiance, to personally uncover my husband's other face.

She'd succeeded. My world, along with those fifteen years of love, shattered completely.

After sending this video to Zoey as well, I acted as if nothing had happened, quietly waiting for the day of the engagement party.

Lachlan was probably feeling guiltyhe became even more attentive and considerate toward me.

The more he acted this way, the more disgusted I felt.

The night before the engagement party, Lachlan excitedly brought over an exquisite gift box, his face wearing a tender smile.

"Harper, come quick! Look at the dress I had custom-made for you. You'll look absolutely beautiful wearing it at tomorrow's engagement."

He opened the box like presenting a treasure. Inside was a champagne-colored mermaid gown.

The hem was studded with tiny crystals that sparkled gently under the light.

Then he knelt on one knee and opened a velvet box.

Inside lay a diamond ring with an intricate design. The lines winding around the band were the composition from my painting Devotion.

He looked up at me, his eyes brimming with love:

"Harper, this is our Devotion. It will be like my love for youeternal and unchanging."

"After tomorrow, you'll be my wife. Harper, I've waited so long for this day."

His voice carried a barely perceptible nervousness, his fingertips trembling slightly.

I looked at myself reflected in his eyesthe girl who had once been full of joy and hope for the future now felt only a barren coldness.

I didn't extend my hand. I just quietly watched him, watched the anticipation in his eyes gradually freeze and finally turn into unease.

He asked tentatively, "Harper? Don't you like it?"

I slowly shook my head, my voice flat: "I like it. It's beautiful."

He visibly relaxed and tried to take my hand to put the ring on me.

But I gently moved away, taking the ring box from his hand. Looking at those winding lines, I suddenly smiled.

"What if tomorrow... I ran away from the wedding? What would you do?"

"What are you talking about, silly?"

Lachlan laughed and ruffled my hair:

"If you ran, I'd turn the whole earth upside down to find you and lock you by my side."

I lowered my eyelids, hiding the mockery in my eyes:

"Lachlan, if... if I did something to hurt you, would you forgive me?"

The smile faded from Lachlan's face.

He cupped my face, forcing me to meet his eyes, his expression frighteningly serious.

"Don't say things like that."

His thumb caressed my cheek, his voice low:

"Harper, between us, there's no 'hurting' and no 'forgiving.'"

"You would never do anything to hurt me, just like I would never betray you."

He said it with such certainty, such apparent sincerity.

I almost laughed out loud.

Was this certainty based on his trust in me, or his confidence in his own acting skills?

I said nothing more, letting him hold me in his arms, feeling that false yet familiar warmth.

On the day of the engagement, before leaving, I took out my phone and sent Zoey a final message:

"Proceed as planned."

The banquet hall was lively and warm.

Both our parents and several close elders were there.

Lachlan's mother held my hand, beaming:

"Harper is getting more beautiful every day. Our Lachlan marrying you is a blessing from eight lifetimes of good karma."

I smiled, playing the role of a bride-to-be immersed in happiness.

Lachlan sat beside me, considerately serving me food, occasionally whispering sweet nothings in my ear. We looked so intimate that everyone envied us.

Halfway through the dinner, Lachlan's father cleared his throat and stood up, preparing to announce our official wedding date.

Just as everyone's attention focused on him, Lachlan's phone vibrated.

He picked it up, glanced at it, and his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. Then he gave me a reassuring smile and lowered his voice:

"Something urgent at the office. I'll step out to take this call. Be right back."

He got up and hurried out.

The moment the private room door closed, I stood up.

Under everyone's bewildered gazes, I walked to the front of the room and connected my phone to the huge screen that had been prepared to show our sweet memories.

Zoey's carefully edited video began to play.

The entire room fell deathly silent.

I heard Lachlan's mother gasp, saw the shock drain all color from my parents' faces.

I picked up the microphone, my voice ringing clearly through the room:

"I'm sorry, everyone. This engagement party is canceled."

With that, I put down the microphone and, under everyone's stares, turned and walked out of that suffocating banquet hall.

Lachlan was leaning against the window at the end of the corridor, softly coaxing Tara on the phone.

"Okay, okay, it's just a stomachache. As soon as the engagement party ends, I'll come keep you company. Don't cry, my baby."

Before he could hang up, a resounding slap landed hard across his face.

Lachlan was stunned. He covered his face, looking up in disbelief.

The next second, his father pointed at him, trembling with rage:

"You disgraceful bastard! Get in there right now and see what you've done!"