My Client's Crazy Wife

At three in the morning, the mobile phone vibrated wildly on the bedside table. I blindly reached for my mobile phone; the moment the screen lit up, it pierced my eyes and made me squint. The caller ID read "Mandy Lincoln," my client, a woman who had just given birth. I took a deep breath and swiped to answer, trying to keep my voice steady: "Mrs. Lincoln, it's quite late. Is something the matter?" Immediately, a sharp scream burst through the line: "Linda Johnson! Don't play innocent! My husband's phone has your goodnight message! Are you seducing him?" A sharp buzz rang in my head, and I was instantly alert. York Scott is Mandy's husband and also a partner of our company. My contact with him is strictly limited to work. "Mrs. Lincoln, you're mistaken. I have never sent Mr. Scott a goodnight message. Perhaps you misunderstood a work-related text." I explained patiently. "Misunderstood?" Mandy sneered coldly, "I saw it with my own eyes! He had you saved as 'Linda' in his phone—what other proof do you need? Do you think I'm an easy target just because I recently gave birth?" "Mrs. Lincoln, please calm down. We can check the chat records face to face. I have no improper intentions." "Calm down? How can I calm down!" Her voice suddenly rose, quivering with sobs. "If you don't admit it, I'll jump out the window of the New Mother Care Center! Let everyone see how you drove me to this!" My heart tightened as I stood up and walked to the window, staring at the deserted street below. "Don't be impulsive, Mrs. Lincoln. Let's talk calmly. Can I come to see you now?" "Don't come! I don't want to see you!" she yelled, then began to cry again. "Does York like you too? He hasn't been paying much attention to me lately..." I stood by the window, listening to her intermittent sobbing, feeling both weary and helpless. I don't know how long had passed when York's voice suddenly came through the phone: "Mandy, who are you talking to? It's the middle of the night—why aren't you asleep?" Mandy's sobs faltered for a moment, followed by a faint, indistinct argument. After a few seconds, York's voice came through the receiver, laced with apology: "Miss Johnson, I'm sorry, my wife just gave birth and her emotions are unstable, disturbing your rest. I will talk to her properly." I exhaled in relief, my voice softening: "It's alright, Mr. Scott. Please spend more time with your wife Mrs. Lincoln. We can discuss work matters tomorrow." After hanging up, I leaned against the wall, feeling utterly drained of strength. I picked up my mobile phone and scrolled through my chat history with York. The latest message was a work file sent yesterday afternoon, annotated, "Mr. Scott, please review the project proposal." Where did the "good night" come from?