I am deaf. Whenever people gossiped about Declan Cross’s endless affairs, I would just turn off my hearing aids. As long as he told me nothing happened, I believed him. Until I brought him lunch at the office and saw his newly hired assistant straddling his lap. Her body was soft, her eyes seductive: "Declan, isn't it bad if I eat all the food your wife made for you?" His familiar voice was low and hoarse: "It doesn't matter. It's just a meal." Later, he spent twenty million dollars at a charity auction just for the chance to have dinner with me. But I didn't want it anymore. 1 "I'm telling you guys, absolutely no one is allowed into Mr. Cross's office this afternoon." The executive secretary finished speaking and winked at the other assistants in the bullpen. "I don't know what kind of background this new girl, Blair Kensington, has. She just got hired as his personal assistant, and now she’s getting really personal." "You don't know her? She's the heiress to the Kensington Group! Their only daughter. She gets whatever she wants. If you ask me, the current Mrs. Cross is probably going to be..." She made a slashing motion across her neck. "The current Mrs. Cross has no money, no background, and she’s deaf. If it weren't for their shared history, he would have divorced her ages ago, right?" The mocking voices drifted into my ears. This time, I hadn't turned off my hearing aids. Declan and I had our honeymoon phase too. Back then, no one thought we would make it. Accurately speaking, no one thought I would make it. I had no prestigious family background, and I was deaf. Standing next to the golden boy, Declan Cross, I looked completely out of place. But whenever we walked together, Declan would hold me tight, refusing to let go. He wanted to bring me to work with him every single day. His rich friends teased him, his employees catered to me, and everyone respectfully called me Mrs. Cross. Unfortunately, good things never last. I don't know exactly when he changed. Maybe it was the first time he worked late and didn't come home. Maybe it was the first time he went clubbing with his boys and didn't tell me. Or maybe it was the first time he forgot our anniversary. People often maliciously reminded me, dropping hints that Declan’s new mistresses looked a lot like me. Whenever that happened, I would just turn off my hearing aids. When we got married, Declan told me that everyone in his elite circle was driven by hidden agendas. He said I shouldn't believe a word they say. I took that to heart. I smiled and asked him, "Then who can I believe?" He said, "Harper. You can always trust me." So, I would ask him if the rumors were true. He would say, "No." And I believed him. I would ask him, "Do you still love me?" He would say, "Yes." He didn't know there was one sentence I never said out loud: If you ever stop loving me, I will leave. I will never beg you to stay. Declan was a notorious playboy, famous for his wandering eye. I was the only one stupid enough to believe he would never do anything to betray me. But Declan remained exactly who he was. The people around him started treating me worse and worse. His friends joked that I was a desperate cling-on, and his employees stopped giving me any respect. Listening to the secretaries gossip, a dull ache throbbed in my chest. I thought I didn't care anymore. "Ahem! Stop talking!" A sharp-eyed secretary spotted me. She plastered on a fake, corporate smile: "Mrs. Cross, you can just leave the lunchbox here. Mr. Cross is in a meeting right now. It's not a good time." I dodged her outstretched hand. "Is that so? Then I really need to see what kind of crisis is keeping him from eating his lunch." 2 "You can't!" The secretary who had just been trash-talking me blocked the hallway doors. "Mrs. Cross, without Mr. Cross's explicit permission, I cannot let you in." A fleeting look of mockery flashed in her eyes. I smiled, glanced at her name tag, and said firmly: "I am going in." Normally, if a secretary said that, I would just turn around and leave. But today was different. Just as I was leaving the house with the lunchbox, I received a package from Blair Kensington. An envelope containing an ultrasound report that pushed me straight into the abyss. The secretary had no intention of moving. "I'll say it one more time. I am going in." She bit her lip and looked down, refusing to budge. I laughed. It seemed that because Declan no longer loved me, even a secretary felt she could walk all over me. "You're fired." Hearing that, she finally panicked. Her eyes went wide, and she stuttered: "Y-You! I work for Mr. Cross! What gives you the right to fire me?!" I didn't waste my breath. I called the HR Director. The very first time Declan brought me to the company, he stood in front of all the senior executives and said: "My wife's word is my word." I just never used that privilege. Until now. The HR Director acted fast, coming up personally to escort her out. Before she left, the secretary glared at me furiously: "You can't even keep your own husband in check, and you're throwing your weight around with me?!" "Just wait until Miss Kensington becomes the new Mrs. Cross! I'll be back!" The HR Director looked at my face awkwardly. "Mrs. Cross, please don't be angry..." I wasn't angry. I just felt pathetic. "Mrs. Cross" was just a title, and Declan had made it clear it was no longer exclusive to me. Since when had I become so worthless in the eyes of a secretary? I looked her dead in the eye: "She's right. So, while I still have a little power left, get the hell out." That was the first time I ever lost my temper in front of the staff. No one dared to breathe. No one dared to stop me. Declan’s office was massive. As I walked down the corridor, a wave of melancholy washed over me. I had designed and decorated this place with him. Declan had insisted on installing a hidden, private rest suite with a shower in the back. He had rested his chin on my shoulder, biting my earlobe: "Harper, I want to leave traces of our love in every single corner of this room..." He spoke shamelessly, and he delivered. To the point where every time I visited the office, he would drag me into that hidden room. Now, I stood in front of that very door, listening to the murmurs inside. "Ah~ Declan..." The girl's voice was coquettish. "Declan, isn't it bad if I eat all the food your wife made for you?" His familiar voice was low and hoarse: "It doesn't matter. It's just a meal." Just a meal. I didn't have many talents, but my one skill was cooking. Declan loved my food. He begged me to make him lunches. He knew I always dreamed of opening my own high-end restaurant. But he always told me to wait a little longer. My heart felt like it had been beaten with a baseball bat. My icy hand pressed the door handle. The door opened. Blair Kensington was straddling his lap. Hearing the sound, she shrieked and buried her face in Declan's chest. A guilty, unnatural flush spread across Declan's face. "Who told you to come in?!" The moment he saw it was me, the frown on his face froze. His eyes went wide. 3 In a split second, he grabbed his suit jacket and wrapped it tightly around the girl, covering her completely. It was a deeply protective gesture. A storm of uncontrollable emotions raged in his eyes. The heavy, sickeningly sweet scent of perfume solidified in the air. The atmosphere was suffocating. After a long silence, he gritted his teeth and spat out two words: "Get out!" I didn't know how I managed to control my body, but I took a step forward. I walked over to the mahogany desk. I set the lunchbox down. "Do you have anything else you want to say, Declan?" The veins on his forehead bulged. He bit his lip. His beautiful eyes looked like they were covered in a layer of fog. Declan bit his lip until it bled, finally regaining a shred of clarity. The scene was incredibly ugly. When had Declan ever looked this pathetic in front of me? His voice was laced with fury. He enunciated every word: "Get. Out. Now." I didn't linger. "Okay. Whenever you're free, Mr. Cross, we can have a proper talk." I closed the door behind me. My crushed heart shattered into a million pieces on the floor. I could never pick it back up. From inside, I heard a loud CRASH. Declan had smashed a glass against the wall. Before I left, I caught Blair shooting me a triumphant, mocking look. But I didn't care anymore. I was tired. I just wanted to leave this place. Fast. As far away as possible. Unable to wait for the elevator, I ran down the stairs like a madwoman. My heart was in agony, tears blinding my vision. I missed a step and tumbled forward. "Are you alright?" A deep voice came from above me. A strong, firm hand gripped my waist. "I'm fine. Thank you." I quickly stood up, turning my head to wipe away my tears so I wouldn't look completely humiliated. I took a deep breath to compose myself. I looked up to see a man in a bespoke black suit, bending down to pick up my purse. His long legs bent slightly, the fabric pulling taut over his lean, muscular waist. His proportions were perfect, incredibly striking. It was Asher Pierce, currently the biggest corporate partner of Cross Industries. "Declan... he's a bit tied up right now. You might want to reschedule, Mr. Pierce." He smirked, raising a slashed eyebrow: "Who said I was here to see him?" 4 Seeing my confusion, Asher leaned forward and handed me my purse. The ultrasound report Blair had sent me had spilled out onto the floor along with it. A family scandal is meant to be kept private, yet he had seen everything. I was so embarrassed I didn't know what to say. "Miss Harper, it seems you've run into a bit of a problem. My firm just happens to have an excellent legal department. Would you do me the honor of letting me help?" I really did need a specialized divorce attorney, and Asher Pierce’s firm was one of the top in the country. I just hesitated because of his business partnership with Declan. And the sheer awkwardness of the moment. Seeing my hesitation, Asher let out a soft chuckle. It was short, but it contained no mockery or negativity. "My dad was hospitalized a few days ago. The doctors said his diet has been fantastic lately thanks to your meal plans. "When you have time, I was hoping you could customize a new menu for him based on his current condition. "You don't need to worry about my relationship with Declan. In my eyes, my father's health is worth a hell of a lot more than money. So, Miss Harper, treat it as a favor to me, okay?" When Declan and I first got married, his startup was struggling. Because I loved cooking and dreamed of opening a restaurant, I got certified as a professional chef and a licensed nutritionist. I won over many of his early clients meal by meal. Especially the wealthy ones, who value their health above all else. My connection with Asher Pierce started because I designed a specialized diet plan for his parents. Asher was impeccable. His eyes were sincere, and I had no reason to refuse. "Then, thank you." When I returned to our penthouse, Declan wasn't home. I started packing my things. The apartment was new, all the furniture was new. I was the only thing that was old. I hadn't noticed before, but I actually owned very little here. Two suitcases were enough to pack my entire life. While cleaning out a drawer, I found the "Couples Journal" Declan and I used to keep. My half of the journal was much thicker than his. He had stopped writing in it shortly after we got married, while I had kept it going until recently. I remembered back in high school, I was always stuck on the final, hardest math problem. I would write the word "Solution" and then just stare blankly at the equation. Declan had smiled, his face radiant: "Let me guess whose little idiot doesn't know how to solve this and is too stubborn to ask me?" I flipped to the very last page and picked up a pen: [Declan Cross is a math problem I can never solve. No matter how many times I write 'Solution', I will never get any points.] Declan didn't come home that night. I sat on the floor, flipping through his old journal entries. The further back I read, the more he loved me. 5 Declan was angry. I didn't return his calls or texts. I moved back to the old, small house my mother had left me. I asked his secretary and found out he had flown to Paris for a "business trip." A notification popped up on my phone. It was an Instagram post from Blair. A picture of her and Declan feeding pigeons in front of the Eiffel Tower. Compared to explicit photos, this kind of sweet, domestic intimacy was a dull knife carving out my heart. I understood what she was trying to do, but she wasn't a very smart player. Because in my relationship with Declan, she was too low-class to even register. She wanted to win, she wanted the prize, but I didn't want to play anymore. So, I easily tapped the 'Like' button. I refreshed the page, and the post was gone. I don't know if Declan saw my 'Like' and made her delete it. It didn't matter anymore. Asher's efficiency was terrifying. We finalized the divorce settlement terms that very day. The documents were delivered to me the next morning. Declan called me, his voice accusatory: "Where are you? Why aren't you home?" "I moved out. I'm never going back. Let me know when you return to the States so we can meet up." The line went quiet for a moment. Suddenly, Declan scoffed. "Harper, you're making a massive deal out of nothing." "Now, get your ass home immediately, or don't bother coming back ever!" He hung up, just like he did every time we fought. Waiting for me to go coax him back. I didn't go back that night. Declan blocked my number and my social media. Then, he posted a picture of himself at a club, with an arm around two different models. I saw it on my burner account. Declan was always like this. If he didn't want to communicate, he would force me to go find him over and over again. To prevent completely losing track of him, I had added his friends on burner accounts. [Hahaha! Tonight's tab is on Mr. Cross!] [Declan, fighting with the wife again?] [Place your bets! Let's see how many days Harper can last before she comes crawling back to Declan!] [I give her one day!] The group chat was buzzing. Declan's best friend even set up a literal betting pool. I clicked into it and placed my bet on: [Breakup/Divorce]. After all, they had made money off me for years with these bets. It was time I won some of it back. The VIP Club was owned by Declan’s best friend. Members only. Hearing I was there, he immediately alerted the VIP room. Before I even opened the door, I could hear the voices inside. "Hahahaha, I told you! She couldn't even last a day!" "Knew she'd rush over the second she heard you were at the club." "Pay up, pay up!" I pushed the door open, ignoring their mocking gazes. I walked straight up to Declan. He raised his whiskey glass, smiling smugly, and patted the empty seat next to him. "Finish this drink, and I'll take you home." "Ooooh~" The crowd jeered. "No need." I pulled the divorce papers from my bag and handed them to him. "Read this over. Make sure there are no issues. Sign it, and I'll leave." Declan's eyes swept over the words 'Divorce Agreement'. His voice dripped with ice. He slammed the papers onto the table: "Harper, what the hell is this?" 6 Everyone in the room was a socialite shark. Seeing the tension, the guy singing put down the mic, and the loudmouths shut up. Even the thumping background music was muted. Everyone sat frozen, terrified to make a sound. Except for Asher Pierce, sitting in the shadowy corner, leisurely taking a sip of his red wine. The atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. I stared at the large, bold word "DIVORCE" on the document. I spoke calmly: "Exactly what it says." "Declan, we're getting a divorce." You could hear a pin drop in the room. My voice was crystal clear. I heard someone gasp. In the past, Declan was always the one using breakups or divorce to manipulate me. Every single time, I was the one who bowed my head, apologized, and begged for reconciliation. This was the first time I had ever initiated a divorce. Declan's face was terrifyingly dark, his jaw clenched, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. "Declan, it must be because I ate the food Harper made for you. She's mad." Blair Kensington leaned in close to him, her eyes downcast, looking incredibly pitiful: "Let me apologize to her for you, okay?" Blair was wearing a very loose, flowing dress, clearly to accommodate her pregnancy. She deflected the main issue, playing the victim perfectly. She calculated that because I was a dignified woman, I wouldn't publicly air out her dirty laundry and humiliate everyone in the room. Declan’s best friend jumped in to smooth things over: "Come on, Harper. You two have been through hell and back for years. Are you really going to throw a fit over a lunchbox?" "Yeah, just take the papers back..." I laughed. It had been like this for years. They were all Declan's friends. They always spoke up for him. They covered for him, and they told me that since I was Mrs. Cross, I needed to be "magnanimous" and "forgiving." "Don't try to talk her out of it." Declan leaned back aggressively into the leather sofa. "I want to see what kind of stunt she thinks she's pulling!" He glared at me intensely: "Harper, this trick doesn't work on me." "Take these papers and leave right now, and I can pretend none of this happened." 7 I took a deep breath: "Declan, I'm not pulling a stunt." "I'm completely serious. Let's get a divorce." Declan stared at me, his eyes burning into mine, but he didn't move. Dark emotions swirled in his eyes. After a long pause, a low chuckle came from the corner of the room: "Mr. Cross really is just like the rumors say—deeply in love with his wife!" "You act like a playboy on the outside, but deep down, you're terrified she'll actually leave you, aren't you?" Asher Pierce swirled the wine in his glass with his long, pale fingers. He stepped out of the shadows, looking like a noble, centuries-old vampire. "What a wonderful, devoted husband!" The moment the words left his mouth, Declan exploded: "Bullshit!" Declan yanked the cap off a pen, ready to sign. His best friend grabbed his arm. "Declan! Wake up! Don't do something stupid!" Declan had a volatile temper. In moments like this, the more people tried to stop him, the more rebellious he became. With a swift stroke of the pen, his signature was on the paper. "Harper, don't you dare come crying to me begging to get back together!" Seeing him sign, Blair couldn't suppress the triumphant smirk on her face. Only after signing did Declan remember to actually read the terms. He fully expected me to be greedy and demand half his empire. When he saw that I only asked for the profits from the specific projects I had personally secured for him, he frowned. He felt uncomfortable, but he didn't know why. Soon, that fleeting emotion was replaced by arrogance. He scoffed: "Harper, you're really taking this act all the way, aren't you?" "Trying to draw a clean line with me?" "If you walk away with this little money after being Mrs. Cross for years, people will say I'm cheap." "Tell you what, I'll throw in the villa we lived in." Anyone could hear the heavy mockery in his voice. I curled my lips into a smile and gave him a slow clap: "Since Mr. Cross is feeling so generous, I have a big gift for you too." 8 I pulled Blair’s ultrasound report from my bag and slapped it right onto his chest. "Fuck!" Caught completely off guard, Declan couldn't react in time. The paper smacked against him with a sharp thwack. His immediate reflex was to stand up and strike back. But when he saw the contents of the ultrasound report, his raised hand froze in mid-air. His eyes bulged. His face was a mix of sheer disbelief and panic. He instinctively reached for the signed divorce papers on the table. But a pair of long, elegant hands snatched them away a fraction of a second faster. Asher Pierce handed the agreement to me: "Hold onto these." Asher was a veteran of the corporate battlefield, famous for never showing emotion. Strangely, why did I get the feeling he was actually... happy right now? He looked at Declan with a distinct air of triumph: "Thank you, Mr. Cross, for contributing to my law firm's win rate." Declan was clearly still in shock from the revelation that he was about to be a father. Before leaving the VIP room, I shook my phone: "By the way, don't forget to Venmo me your bets. I've already sent a group payment request." "I let you guys treat me like a joke for years. Consider this my appearance fee for playing the clown." Before walking out the door, I couldn't resist a final piece of self-promotion: "If anyone has any healthy catering or diet needs, feel free to contact me." After sending the payment request in the group, I saw Asher instantly send his portion. Wow. Truly a born businessman. He knew I was going to divorce, and he was the only other person in the chat who voted [Divorce]. He really never missed an opportunity to make a buck. "Congratulations." Asher congratulated me. I wanted to smile, but my facial muscles refused to cooperate. It probably looked worse than crying. I turned around, letting the cool night breeze hit my face. I whispered, "What's there to congratulate..." Using the excuse of "post-sale customer service," Asher insisted on driving me home. We didn't say a word the entire ride. "Thank you, Mr. Pierce. I'm going upstairs now." I tried to pull the car handle, but it wouldn't budge. Asher got out of the car and opened the door for me personally: "Miss Harper, it takes courage to walk away from a toxic relationship. You are very brave." "And leaving the wrong person is absolutely something worth congratulating." 9 Good news stays indoors; bad news travels a thousand miles. According to the high-society gossip mill, Declan lost his mind that night. He dragged Blair straight to a clinic to get an abortion. In the end, it was Arthur Kensington, Blair's powerful father, who rushed to the scene to stop the madness. The rumor mill quickly connected the dots: my divorce request and Declan dragging Blair to an abortion clinic. The verdict was unanimous: Blair was the mistress, and Declan was the cheating bastard. Many high-society wives sympathized with me, outraged on my behalf. Blair called me several times, screaming and cursing. Her tone had lost all its soft, "green tea" sweetness. She sounded like a feral banshee. I listened for a while and then laughed out loud: "Wow. So even wealthy heiresses can't curse without resorting to genitals and bodily fluids?" "I just forwarded a recording of this to Declan. I wonder what he'll think of his sweet little angel now?" Blair instantly shut up. The Blair Kensington who didn't know me in high school only knew the "Mrs. Cross" version of me. Elegant, poised, gentle, and understanding. But back in high school, I was notoriously untouchable. Even the school bullies called me "Boss." Because I had no family to back me up, I had nothing to lose. If anyone bullied me, I fought back with everything I had. I didn't care if I got hurt. By messing with me, she had kicked a steel plate. I cleaned out the villa, handed the keys to a realtor, and told him to sell it as fast as possible. That same day, I moved back into the old house. I never knew my father. My mom had me out of wedlock, and she never spoke a word about him. But that didn't stop her from loving me. She was the best mom in the world. When I was little, surrounded by my mom and grandparents' love, I thought I was the luckiest kid alive. Later, my grandparents passed away. Then, my mom left me too. While cleaning out my mom's belongings, I found a stash of heavy anti-depressants. 10 That was when I realized she had been battling severe depression for years. The neighbors always whispered that I was an illegitimate child. They called my mom a shameless homewrecker who got knocked up by a rich old man and abandoned. When I was little, I didn't understand what they meant. My mom would just cover my ears, take me home, and make me my favorite clam chowder. "Bastard" and "homewrecker" didn't sound like good words. I asked my mom, "Am I a bad kid?" She gently wiped my face: "Our Harper is the best, best, best kid in the whole world!" When she was alive, she shielded me from every storm. Knowing how much pain she endured before she died, I actually felt a strange sense of relief at her passing. She was free, wasn't she? Thankfully, I had a little savings. The house my grandparents left and my mom's house were both under my name. They bought them early when prices were low, and they were in prime downtown locations, perfect for renting. That was how I ended up renting a unit to Declan and his mother, which started this whole story. I shook my head. Ever since the divorce, this was the first time I had actively thought about him. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. Maybe when you accumulate enough disappointment, you just go numb. I cleaned up both properties. I didn't hire a cleaner. I just wanted to do physical labor to empty my mind. I wanted to open a high-end restaurant, and there were a lot of places I needed to spend money. I planned to rent one of the units out. I checked online and saw that rent in this downtown area had gone up significantly. That was the first piece of good news I'd had in a while. When your body is exhausted, your brain doesn't have the energy to dwell on unhappy things. I slept from 2:00 PM straight through to 8:00 AM the next day. When I checked my phone, I saw a text from Asher: [Do you have time tomorrow to come to the hospital and check on my dad?] I smacked my forehead. Crap. I promised him I'd help, and I completely forgot. I quickly replied: [I'm free.] I went online and ordered some premium beef ribs and wild rice. The old man loved my beef and wild rice soup. I decided to make him a batch. Once it was done, I texted Asher, asking which hospital his dad was in. He called me directly, saying two words: "Come downstairs."
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