I’d been living in silence for so long, and I thought I’d surprise him. Instead, he gave me a shock. In his home office: “Is what we’re doing wrong? It’s fine, she can’t hear.” Ten years of marriage, just a sick joke. I dug a trap of equity. Watching them fall right in. My stomach churned violently, nausea rising in my throat. I gasped for air until my rigid body slowly unknotted. I raised my hand again, gently knocking on the door, asking in my usual soft voice: “Honey, are you in your office?” The sounds inside abruptly cut off. My upbringing wouldn’t allow me to barge in without an invitation. Marcus Hayes had taken advantage of that, which was why he dared to carry on such a disgusting affair with Brittany Miller right under my nose. It took a good while for Marcus to open the door. My gaze immediately landed on Brittany, who stood by the desk, flashing me a gentle smile, though the blush on her face hadn’t completely faded. Marcus signed to me: “Honey, why did you come down alone? Brittany was just reporting on a tricky issue, that’s why it took a bit longer.” My eyes met Marcus’s, searching for any flicker of evasiveness or hesitation, but there was clearly only concern. It seemed he’d clearly mastered the art of deception. I didn’t bat an eye, simply holding up the documents in my hand. “Honey, I told you before, I had a gift for our anniversary. Look, it’s this.” The bold words “Share Transfer Agreement” made a flicker of raw greed flash in Marcus’s eyes, quickly followed by a touch of guilt: “Honey, you don’t need to transfer them. We’re husband and wife, the company is our shared asset.” When we started the company, my family, the Chen family, had bankrolled it to support the bankrupt Hayes family. We split the shares fifty-fifty. To make the IPO smoother, I thought of directly transferring the shares to Marcus. I had joked about it before, and back then, Marcus would playfully whine that spouses shouldn’t be so formal with finances. Behind him, Brittany stood motionless, staring intently at the Share Transfer Agreement. Seeing Marcus hesitate to take it, she finally spoke up: “Mr. Hayes, aren’t you going to sign this? Don’t forget, the company is at a critical stage for its IPO. All the shares belonging to you will make the listing much smoother.” At this, Marcus frowned, playing the part of the devoted husband. He responded to Brittany with a hint of impatience: “Since when is my business with Chloe yours to interrupt?!” Brittany’s gaze flickered to me. Though a polite smile still lingered on her face, her voice was laced with a hint of grievance: “Don’t forget, you promised me half your shares. I’ve been with you for five years, without any formal title. You have to keep your word, right?” Five years! They’d been doing this right under my nose for five years! Thankfully, the phone in my pocket had already started recording. I used every ounce of my strength to suppress the urge to slap Marcus across the face. Marcus took a ring box from the cabinet. Inside lay a pink diamond. Just a few days ago, flipping through a magazine, I’d casually shared my admiration for that very ring with him. He knelt down like a child presenting a treasure, sliding the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly. “Honey, I bought this gem. Good thing your husband didn’t forget your size. Happy Anniversary, my love. Here’s to a lifetime together.” If I hadn’t accidentally regained my hearing today, perhaps I would have gone to my grave believing Marcus would never betray me. But ten years of shared history still softened my heart a little. I glanced at both of them, deliberately teasing Brittany: “Brittany, you’re not getting any younger, are you? I have a friend around your age. Maybe you two should meet?” If they were smart enough to take the hint and back off, I could at least give Marcus some dignity when we divorced. But at this, Marcus and Brittany simultaneously rushed to refuse me with sign language. Brittany even mumbled: “Don’t try to play matchmaker. If I were to go with another man, how could Mr. Hayes ever want me back?” Hearing that, Marcus clearly relished the compliment. He couldn’t help but respond with a hint of smugness: “Good, you know. Why would I ever share my woman with another man? Just stick with me, and you’ll be well rewarded.” He didn’t want to share his woman with anyone, yet he forced me to share him with another woman. If that’s how it is, then don’t blame me for abandoning all pretense of a loving marriage.
Under the combined pressure of Brittany and me, Marcus finally signed the Share Transfer Agreement. A pink diamond, in the end, couldn’t outweigh the lure of company equity. The moment his signature fell, Marcus pulled me tightly into his embrace. His guilt was palpable, and I seized the opportunity: “Honey, you don’t have to feel so guilty. If it’s too much, just transfer your investments and properties into my name. That way, you’ll feel more at ease.” A flicker of doubt crossed Marcus’s eyes, but I didn’t give him time to think: “My family is in real estate anyway, so managing investments would be easy for me. I’ll just be your capable wife.” Perhaps afraid that Marcus wouldn’t agree and I’d react drastically, Brittany quickly added: “The real estate market isn’t great right now, these investments will only lose money if you hold onto them. It’s better to let her manage them, so you can relax.” Marcus’s company was a leader in the tech industry. Once listed, these investments would be a drop in the ocean compared to the equity. He had always kept me out of the company’s operations, likely to prevent me from getting too involved. Marcus sighed, finally agreeing. Brittany lowered her head, triumph and disdain mingling in her eyes. I suppressed the chill in my heart. We’d see who the fool was in the end. As night fell, Marcus prepared to take me out to celebrate our anniversary, first dismissing Brittany: “Tonight’s Chloe and my anniversary. I’ve booked a restaurant, so you should leave now. Don’t bother me with texts tonight.” Brittany seemed resentful about me trying to set her up with a boyfriend. She closed her eyes, gathering her courage before speaking: “Mr. Hayes, this villa is so remote, I don’t want to take a taxi alone. You’ve had so many anniversaries, what’s one more? You’ve given her a gift; just spend tonight with me.” A flash of anger was just starting to cross Marcus’s face when I suddenly patted my head, feigning a realization: “Honey, I think I’ve been home too long. I completely forgot I have an appointment with my physical therapist tonight. He’s incredibly hard to book, so how about we celebrate our anniversary tomorrow instead?” Marcus froze. Brittany pressed on: “Didn’t you really like those new positions we tried in bed last night? Should we try them again tonight? I even bought that uniform you like.” Hearing that, I nearly gagged. With me, Marcus had always been polite and reserved in bed. I thought he was naturally disinterested, but it turns out he was just disinterested in *me*. As expected, Marcus apologized to me: “Alright, honey, I’ll drop you off. I also have some company matters to finish up. As long as we’re together, every day is a holiday.” I forced out a smile, my desire to get away from this disgusting man reaching its peak. So I excused myself, saying I didn’t want to delay him, and had the driver take me out. Half an hour later, Marcus’s car’s dashcam showed he indeed went to the company. Immediately after, my phone buzzed with his message: “Honey, things are a bit busy today. I’ll get everything done tonight so I can spend tomorrow with you. Get some rest, I might be back late.” As if to cover his guilt, Marcus even sent photos of the cash and investment transfer agreements. It seemed when I joked about it earlier, he had already taken it seriously. I sent the transfer agreements and the earlier recording to my lawyer. After the lawyer confirmed everything was in order, the moment Marcus signed his name, my lawyer called: “Congratulations, Ms. Hayes. All the pieces are in place, we just need that last piece of evidence. Once you get that, you’ll have everything you want.”
Late that night, Marcus quietly returned home. Though he was extra careful, I, having a purpose, still caught the faint scent of jasmine. That floral scent, which I might have overlooked before, now felt like needles piercing my skull. I pressed a hand to my throat, forcing down the urge to vomit. My mind, however, was coldly calculating: I still lacked direct, irrefutable evidence of Marcus and Brittany’s affair. In the following days, perhaps due to his guilt, Marcus began to play the part of the devoted husband. To gather evidence, I decided, for the first time in ages, to cook him a meal and personally take it to his company. You see, to avoid causing Marcus any trouble, my appearances at his company were rare. So, when I showed up at the front desk, the receptionist visibly flinched. On my way to Marcus’s office, I heard hushed whispers: “Has the boss’s wife found out something? Why is she suddenly here?” “Hard to say. Mr. Hayes has been quite reckless a few times. There was even a time he made Brittany hide in the inner office while his wife was right outside!” Though my hand, holding the chicken soup, was pale from tension, I managed to maintain a smile as I entered Marcus’s office. At that exact moment, Brittany opened the inner office door. She saw me, startled, and instinctively pulled her collar up. I pretended not to notice the faint red marks on her neck, setting down the soup. I casually remarked to Marcus: “Honey, there’s a gala tonight. My dad’s hosting. Will you come with me?” I paused slightly, then turned to Brittany: “Brittany, you should come too. Didn’t you always say Marcus needed to train Brittany more? Many people will be there tonight, it could be a good chance for Brittany to network.” Brittany’s eyes immediately lit up. Marcus feigned hesitation but eventually agreed. At the gala that evening, seeing how effortlessly Brittany navigated the room, I knew Marcus frequently brought her to these events. Then, Mr. Campbell approached us with a female companion I hadn’t met before. Suddenly, the woman spoke: “Mr. Hayes, Mrs. Reed’s necklace is truly beautiful tonight. I love diamonds too.” I froze. The one wearing the diamond necklace was Brittany, not me. In that moment, my anger flared, but I maintained my smile, though behind it lay endless coldness and resolve. Mr. Campbell’s face showed a flicker of embarrassment, quickly replaced by pity. Marcus’s expression remained unchanged, and Brittany puffed out her chest, the diamonds seemingly sparkling brighter under the lights. Marcus offered no explanation. I excused myself, feigning illness, leaving the stage to Brittany and him. Among the guests invited that day were Marcus’s and my high school classmates. I had prepared a private room specifically for them. Those high school classmates who had ceased contact after the Hayes family’s bankruptcy were now fawning over the latest tech darling. Perhaps my unassuming demeanor and my father’s turning a blind eye had made Marcus drop his guard. Fueled by alcohol, Marcus, while toasting me, began to rant wildly in the private room I had arranged: “Honestly, I love Chloe, but living with someone disabled for so long… it’s just… so ridiculous having video calls and signing. It’s too much.” He swirled his glass, continuing: “And, whenever Chloe appears before me, I’m reminded that she lost her hearing saving me. Do you understand? It’s a huge debt, too heavy to bear.” I had never used it against him. In fact, when Marcus decided to marry me, I had solemnly asked him: “If it’s out of guilt, then don’t. I want a husband, not someone repaying a debt.” Back then, Marcus had knelt before me, tears in his eyes, signing with trembling hands: “I’ve only ever loved you. It’s only because I love you that I want to be with you. Chloe, please, marry me?” My mind flashed back to him staying up for months, eyes heavy with dark circles, to quickly learn sign language. I had sealed my answer with a kiss. But things were different now. Hearing his words, even though I had emotionally detached myself from Marcus, I instinctively clenched my hands. Marcus didn’t notice, but this scene didn’t escape another person’s eyes. Marcus’s cronies were about to continue their teasing, but suddenly a voice I never expected interrupted everything: “Then what about your secretary? Before Chloe arrived, you two were kissing passionately.”
The one who spoke was Adrian Knight, the mysterious intellectual from high school. When my dad sent out invitations, he had only symbolically given Adrian an invitation. Yet, to my surprise, Adrian Knight, heir to the city’s most prominent Knight Group, was attending this gala. Adrian continued, his gaze falling on me without avoidance: “Do you think you’d be where you are today without Chloe, without the Chen family?” Perhaps unprepared for Adrian’s intervention, everyone who had been stirring immediately quieted down. Marcus instantly sobered up. He spoke with a slight tremor, his tone filled with forced composure and an inexplicable hostility towards Adrian: “Mr. Knight, this is my private matter. Besides, I’ve given Chloe the title of Mrs. Hayes. Isn’t that enough?” Adrian chuckled softly, still staring at me, asking teasingly: “Do you think she cares for the title of Mrs. Hayes?” Marcus was stumped. I felt uncomfortable under Adrian’s intense gaze. A quick-witted guest swiftly broke the ice between us. The lively atmosphere in the private room returned. Adrian looked at me, said nothing more, just grabbed his jacket and left. Marcus drank until he was half-drunk. I made an excuse about my physical therapy and left again, leaving Marcus in a room I had booked beforehand. I subtly gave Brittany the information, leading her to the hotel half an hour later. I sat behind the camera, staring unblinkingly at the two intertwined, naked bodies in the room. Fueled by alcohol, Marcus was sweating profusely on top of Brittany, lamenting: “If only Chloe could be like you. Why would I ever need to find someone else?” Perhaps it was the impending freedom from a suffocating marriage, but hearing that, I felt no nausea, only a detachment, as if watching a stranger. The next day, I threw the video at Marcus, along with the ready-made divorce papers. After Marcus saw the video, he made countless continuous calls until, half an hour later, he finally realized that, to him, I was still the wife who couldn’t hear. A text message popped up on my phone:
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