My Movie Star Wife's Male Friend

I sat at my desk streaming live, a copy of the Civil Code spread out before me, the desk lamp casting a bright light on the pages. Occasionally, viewers in the bullet screen asked about Viola Scott. My fingers paused briefly as I smiled and explained, "She just won Best Actress, has had a lot of social engagements lately, and went out for dinner with her friends tonight." No sooner had I said that than the bullet screen exploded. Countless comments scrolled faster than I could flip through a book. "Lawyer Lincoln, stop giving legal talk! Check the trending searches quickly!" "Viola Scott isn't having dinner with her friends! She just checked into a couple's hotel with a man!" "'Star Paparazzi' posted it, with photos and videos. It's already ranked third on the trending list!" "You're still here covering up for her lies, but she is cheating on you!" I stared at the screen, my first thought was that some haters were stirring up trouble. Just yesterday, Viola Scott told me she would stay home and have a family dinner with me. But the comments in the bullet screen insisted more and more that it was true, and someone even posted a screenshot of the trending search. My hands trembled slightly as I opened the trending search list on my phone. The hashtag #ViolaScottCheatingDuringMarriage# was glaring right at me. Clicking on it, the first photo showed her linking arms with a man, smiling radiantly as they walked into a hotel. I recognized the man's profile instantly—Jason Luke, her so-called 'male friend,' and also the owner of Star Paparazzi. The live stream was still on, so I quickly told the viewers, "Logging off for now," then abruptly ended the connection. My finger hovered over Viola Scott's number, pressing it three times before the call went through. "Where are you?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but it still trembled at the end. Music and laughter came through the phone. Viola's voice was tinged with impatience: "Didn't I tell you? I'm at dinner with my close friends." "Dinner?" I gripped my phone tightly, my knuckles turning white. "You were caught going into a hotel with Jason Luke — it's all over the Trending Search!" She was silent for two seconds, but instead of panicking, she became even more impatient: "It's no big deal. Jason Luke and I just fake it to catch attention." "His account needs traffic, and I just won an award—I have to keep people’s eyes on me. It's a win-win, don't you understand?" I wanted to say more, but then Jason Luke's voice came through the phone, sounding like he was urging her. Viola Scott quickly added, "I'll tell you later," then hung up. I called back again, but the phone indicated it was powered off. The screen went dark, and at that moment a message popped up from Jason Luke. I opened it—it was a photo. Jason Luke lay on the hotel bed in a bathrobe, clutching a woman's hand—I recognized that bracelet; it was the birthday gift I gave Viola Scott last year. A voice message followed, his tone dripping with a provocative laugh: "Lawyer Lincoln, guess whose hand this is?" I stared at the hand in the photo, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. It was like carrying a soaked cotton ball—heavy and suffocating. This wasn't the first time Viola Scott had lied to me. Last time, she went to a neighboring city with Jason Luke to 'discuss work,' but returned with an unfamiliar perfume scent on her collar, saying it was just a gift from a client. The time before last, she was on the phone with Jason Luke late at night. When I asked her about it, she said they were just discussing the promotional plan for her new drama. I kept telling myself to be understanding; it's not easy for her in the Entertainment Industry. But this is what I got in return. The wall clock struck twelve, and the door opened. Viola Scott was brought in by Jason Luke, reeking of alcohol, barely able to keep her eyes open. Jason Luke pushed her into the bedroom, and when he turned around, he saw me sitting on the sofa, a mocking smile tugging at his lips: "Lawyer Lincoln. Guess who it is?" As he spoke, he deliberately lifted his chin toward the bedroom. I ignored him, focusing my gaze on Viola Scott—she wasn't wearing the dress from earlier but a black men's shirt. Jason Luke seemed to read my mind, tossing a tote bag in front of me with a forced, insincere smile: "Viola drank too much and threw up. I had spare clothes in my car, so I just grabbed them." "You probably won't mind, right?" Every word he said stabbed straight into my heart.