My Deafness Was His Cruelest Secret

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Married for five years, Rhys Blackwood never mentioned me publicly.

Everyone in our elite circle whispered that he'd married a deaf woman, but he'd only offer a faint smile, never confirming or denying.

I told myself he loved me, he just wasn't good at expressing it.

Until that night, when I saw an anonymous post:

"When you're doing it, take off her hearing aids and call out your ex-girlfriend's name. She won't hear you, she'll just think you're telling her you love her."

The account's profile picture was a stray cat I'd personally photographed.

I'd only ever sent it to him.

Turns out, I was just his chosen stand-in.

Elara POV

A silent world is profoundly quiet.

Beyond the world I could only access with my hearing aids, all that remained was a vast, expansive white, and boundless emptiness.

It was two in the morning, and the light from my phone screen felt harsh in the dark. An anonymous trending post on a social media app had been pushed to the top.

The topic: "What's it like to have a hearing-impaired girlfriend?"

The top-voted answer stung my eyes. It was just a single, short line, dripping with casual indifference:

"When you're doing it, take off her hearing aids and call out your ex-girlfriend's name. She won't hear you, she'll just think you're telling her you love her."

Countless replies followed.

Some cursed: "Scumbag. Aren't you afraid of karma?"

Some asked: "What if she finds out?"

The original poster replied: "She won't. Besides, she's my wife now. She can't survive without me."

My finger hovered over the screen for a long time, my fingertip white.

The profile picture for that account was a stray cat, the same one I'd fed in the rich neighborhood's backyard two years ago. I'd taken that photo, and I'd only ever sent it to one person.

Rhys Blackwood.

My heart felt like it was being brutally squeezed by an invisible hand, blood flowing backward, freezing into ice.

Two years ago, Rhys had changed all his social media profile pictures to this cat. Back then, I thought he loved everything connected to me.

Now I knew, it was because the cat looked exactly like Seraphina, the woman he'd gone abroad to study with.

The cat's eyes were amber too, arrogant, dignified, and aloof.

I clicked on his profile.

He never posted photos of us on social media, and his bio was blank.

But his latest post was just ten minutes old, only one picture.

Under dim light, a long, slender, bony hand held another delicate hand. The caption: "Long time no see."

Flashback five years, to the day of our unremarkable wedding.

It was pouring rain. Our car was parked outside the church. Rhys held my hand just like that, not looking at me, but at the curtain of rain.

He said flatly, "Elara, from now on, this is your home."

I thought it was a promise.

Now, it seemed it was nothing more than a slow, insidious torture that had lasted five years.

The sound of an engine shutting off came from downstairs.

Followed by the beeping of the keypad lock unlocking.

Each sound was like a spike driven into my heart.

The bedroom door opened, bringing in the chill of a late autumn night, mixed with a faint tobacco smell, and... a subtle, unfamiliar scent of iris.

That was Seraphina's favorite perfume.

"Still awake?"

Rhys's voice was low and magnetic. It was a frequency I could barely discern even with my hearing aids, yet it was etched into my bones.

He casually draped his suit jacket over the chair, his long fingers loosening his tie, and walked towards the bed.

Under the lamplight, his features were chiseled and deep, his eyes carrying an innate aloofness. He was the most powerful billionaire in this district, accustomed to controlling everything.

He leaned over, his shadow enveloping me.

I instinctively flinched.

Rhys's movements paused slightly, his deep-set eyes narrowed, as if he sensed my unease, but quickly returned to his usual indifference.

"What's wrong?"

He reached out, his fingertips tracing my pale cheek, which felt cold.

"Had a nightmare?"

I looked at him.

I looked at the face I'd loved for seven whole years.

From admiring him from afar in college, to our accidental encounters, and then to this marriage certificate. I was like a humble scavenger, picking up the small crumbs of affection that slipped through his fingers.

"No."

I spoke, my voice a little hoarse from long silence.

I couldn't hear my own voice very well, so I usually spoke very little, always afraid of mispronouncing words and being laughed at. But in front of Rhys, I always tried hard to respond.

Rhys didn't seem to care about my answer.

He pulled a velvet box from his pocket and casually tossed it onto the nightstand.

"Brought it back from my business trip. See if you like it."

The box sprang open to reveal an intricately crafted diamond necklace.

I recognized it.

Seraphina had worn the exact same one on the cover of a fashion magazine last month.

The design of that necklace was perfect for covering a small mole Seraphina had on her neck.

My neck, however, was clean, with nothing there.

"Thank you." I lowered my gaze, hiding the desolation in my eyes.

Rhys smiled, but the warmth didn't reach his eyes.

He leaned in and kissed my forehead, his tone as gentle as if coaxing a disobedient pet. "Good girl. I'm going to take a shower."

The sound of rushing water filled the bathroom.

I stared at the blue velvet box, my stomach churning violently, a wave of nausea washing over me.

Elara POV

The water stopped in the bathroom.

Rhys emerged, wrapped in a bathrobe, his hair still dripping.

He had an excellent physique: broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and muscles that were defined but not overly bulky. The typical "looks lean in clothes, toned without."

His phone vibrated on the nightstand.

The screen lit up, displaying an unsaved number.

I was close enough that one glance was all it took for me to see the digits.

I knew that number by heart.

I'd heard it countless times in Rhys's drunken ramblings.

Rhys stopped drying his hair, his gaze sweeping across the screen. His previously languid expression instantly sharpened.

He picked up the phone and looked at me.

His eyes held a warning, or perhaps a sense of indifferent entitlement.

He didn't avoid me; he simply swiped to answer.

"Rhys."

The voice from the receiver was distorted but still revealed a woman's sobs and grievances.

"I'm back."

"I heard you got married? That mute... does she really look that much like me?"

My hand, tucked under the covers, clenched tightly.

My nails dug into my palm, a piercing pain.

So, in their eyes, I was not only deaf but also mute.

Rhys didn't speak, just listened quietly.

The woman on the other end said something else. His brow furrowed slightly, but his tone softened, filled with a patience I'd never heard before. "Stop it. Go to bed early."

After he hung up, the room fell into a deathly silence.

I looked up at him.

Rhys casually tossed his phone back onto the nightstand, his face composed, as if the call had been an insignificant interlude.

"Work stuff," he explained blandly.

He couldn't even bother to craft a convincing lie.

Because he was sure I couldn't hear what was said on the other end.

And he was just as sure I couldn't leave him.

"Go to sleep."

The lights went out.

Darkness instantly swallowed everything.

Rhys's presence drew near, carrying the dampness from his shower and that persistent iris scent.

An arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into his embrace.

My body was rigid, like stone.

I wanted to push him away, to demand answers, to scream hysterically.

But what right did I have?

The prenuptial agreement stated it clearly: a mutually beneficial arrangement.

He gave me the status of Mrs. Blackwood, a life of unparalleled luxury, and a hefty donation to the orphanage.

And all I had to do was be a quiet, obedient, and trouble-free wife.

"Relax."

Rhys's voice brushed my ear, his hot breath on my neck.

The next second, a warm, large hand gently touched my ear.

Skillfully, without question, he removed my hearing aid.

The world instantly went silent.

All sounds were stripped away, leaving only the thunderous pounding of my own heart.

My pupils contracted violently.

It was true.

What the post said, it was true.

Before this, I thought it was just his peculiar habit.

He liked to see my lost, helpless expression during intimacy, liked to see me clinging tightly to him because I couldn't hear, like a drowning person grasping at a final piece of driftwood.

I thought it was a game, a possessive desire.

Turns out, it was just so he could whisper another woman's name in my ear.

Rhys kissed me.

His movements were savage, like a release, a primal taking.

My eyes were open, and in the faint moonlight streaming through the window, I stared fixedly at his face.

He was aroused.

His eyes, usually so cold and distant, were now stained with scarlet lust.

What was he saying?

I'd learned some lip-reading. Though not an expert, at such close range, I saw it clearly.

His lips parted and closed, unmistakably forming another woman's name.

Seraphina.

A crushing wave of humiliation drowned me.

Tears silently streamed from the corners of my eyes, disappearing into my hairline.

Rhys didn't notice my tears.

Or rather, even if he did, he wouldn't care.

In his eyes, I was nothing more than a useful, obedient replacement with a somewhat similar face.

That night, I felt like I died.

In that silent world, I heard the sound of my heart breaking.

Elara POV

Morning.

Sunlight streamed through a gap in the curtains, casting a harsh glare on the carpet.

The spot beside me on the bed was already cold.

Rhys was always disciplined, his body clock frighteningly precise.

I sat up in bed, my entire body aching as if I'd been run over by a truck.

I fumbled for my hearing aids and put them on.

The world became noisy again.

Downstairs, I could faintly hear the clinking of dishes and the low murmur of house staff.

I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror.

My face was pale, with faint dark circles under my eyes, and there were still marks from last night's frenzy on my neck.

My face, indeed, bore a resemblance to Seraphina's.

Especially my eyes.

Seraphina was a vibrant rose; I was a cool, pristine lily.

Rhys loved roses but, to save trouble, cultivated a lily that didn't require meticulous care.

I splashed cold water on my face, the chill stinging my nerves, clearing my head somewhat.

I changed and went downstairs.

In the dining room, Rhys was already seated at the head of the table, eating breakfast.

He wore a tailored dark suit, his hair neatly combed-once again the aloof CEO.

Last night's wildness and loss of control seemed to have never happened.

"Morning."

When he saw me descend, he didn't even look up, just gave a faint acknowledgment.

His tablet displayed stock market trends.

Breakfast on the table was lavish.

But there was no hot milk, which I loved.

Only Seraphina's preferred items: whole wheat toast and black coffee.

Rhys suffered from severe stomach problems, yet he forced himself to eat these non-stomach-friendly foods with Seraphina, and this habit had continued into our marriage.

"I'm not eating."

I stood by the table, my voice very soft.

Rhys finally looked up, his brow furrowed, seemingly displeased by my unusual behavior.

"What's with the tantrum?"

He set his coffee cup down, the ceramic clinking against the table.

"Did I hurt you last night?"

His tone held a hint of casual teasing, yet it sent shivers down my spine.

"Rhys."

It was the first time I'd called him by his full name.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, watching me with an amused expression, as if observing a cat that had suddenly bared its claws.

"Let's get a divorce."

The air froze for three seconds.

Rhys scoffed, as if he'd heard the most ridiculous joke.

"Elara, that's not funny at all."

He stood up and walked over to me, looking down.

The oppressive pressure was overwhelming.

"Divorce? Without me, how will you survive?"

"Who will pay the exorbitant medical bills for your brother, the vegetable in the private hospital? Who will sort out your messy debts?"

With each sentence he spoke, my face grew paler.

He was right.

He held my lifeline in his hand.

For five years, he had been my god, my sky, my only refuge in this cruel world.

That's why he was so reckless.

I took a deep breath, pulled a document from my bag, and placed it on the table.

"I've already signed the agreement."

"I'll find a way to pay for Liam's medical expenses myself. As for those debts, I don't care about them anymore."

I looked up, my eyes, which were always docile and gentle, now held a desolate resolve.

"Rhys, I don't love you anymore."

Rhys's face instantly darkened.

The pressure in the air became suffocating.

He didn't like hearing that.

Even a dog kept for five years, if it suddenly tried to run away, its owner would be displeased.

Let alone a woman who, no matter how much he neglected her, would always wait obediently at home.

"Are you sure?"

His voice was as cold as ice shards.

"Once you walk out that door, don't even think about coming back."

"Elara, you'd better not regret this."

I didn't speak.

I turned, without a hint of reluctance.

No luggage, no jewelry he'd given me, not even the expensive hearing aids. I took them off and placed them next to the divorce agreement on the table.

They held too many of his fake affections and cruel murmurs.

I didn't want them anymore.

The world returned to silence.

I pushed open the heavy villa door.

The late autumn wind, carrying fallen leaves, blew into my face. It was cold, but I felt an unprecedented sense of freedom.

This time, I didn't look back.

Rhys POV

I stared at the signed divorce agreement on the table, and the pair of lonely hearing aids beside it.

An inexplicable irritation welled up inside me.

It felt like a puppet I'd always controlled suddenly cutting its strings and collapsing to the ground.

"Throw these away," I coldly instructed my assistant.

The assistant cautiously asked, "Mr. Blackwood, Mrs. Blackwood, she..."

"Don't bother with her," I tugged at my tie, my eyes dark. "No money, no power, and deaf. She won't last three days out there."

I knew Elara too well.

Weak, dependent, like a helpless vine that needs to cling to a strong tree to survive.

This was just a ploy, trying to play hard to get.

Was she jealous because of that call last night?

Women always resorted to such tricks to get attention.

I picked up my car keys and strode out of the villa.

But that empty room seemed even colder than usual.

On my way to the office, I received a call from Seraphina.

"Rhys, I'm waiting for you at the club."

Her voice was soft and sweet, with a hint of a playful whine.

My brow smoothed out, and that inexplicable irritation deep inside me was suppressed.

This was the life our social class was supposed to have.

A vibrant, radiant woman who could stand beside me.

Not Elara, who only knew how to be silent, who would only look at me with innocent eyes.

The luxury private club in the city center.

Seraphina was wearing a seasonal haute couture trench coat, her makeup impeccable, just as she had been years ago.

When she saw me enter, she immediately stood up and fluttered into my arms like a butterfly.

"Rhys, I missed you so much."

My body stiffened slightly, then I raised my arms and hugged her back.

The familiar scent of her perfume, the familiar touch.

But for some reason, what flashed through my mind was Elara's desolate eyes this morning.

And that sentence: "I don't love you anymore."

"What's wrong?" Seraphina noticed my distraction, looking up, a hint of curiosity in her cat-like eyes. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"No," I collected my thoughts, a faint smile playing on my lips. "Why did you suddenly come back?"

"I got bored over there," Seraphina linked her arm through mine and sat down, mentioning casually, "I heard your little mute wife ran away?"

My movements froze, and I looked at her.

Seraphina stuck out her tongue. "Don't look at me like that, everyone in the circle is talking about it. They say Mr. Blackwood is charming, and as soon as he reconciled with his first love, his wife stepped aside."

She chuckled, somewhat triumphantly.

"But she does have self-awareness. She knew I was coming back, so she made way."

I frowned.

For some reason, hearing Seraphina refer to Elara with such disdain made me deeply uncomfortable.

"She's not mute," I corrected coldly.

Seraphina was startled, then whined, "I just said it casually. She's just a stand-in, are you feeling bad for her?"

Stand-in.

Those two words felt like thorns pricking my heart.

I used to think that too.

Elara was just Seraphina's shadow.

But now, the shadow was gone, and something felt profoundly wrong.

The waiter brought coffee.

I picked up the cup and took a sip, my brows tightly knit.

It's bitter.

At home, Elara always remembered to add half a sugar cube to my coffee-my preferred sweetness.

Not too much, not too little, just right.

"Why is this coffee so bad?" I impatiently set the cup down.

Seraphina looked a little bewildered. "But this is the espresso you used to love the most. It hasn't changed."

She was right, it hadn't changed.

The person had.

My phone suddenly rang.

It was my assistant.

"Mr. Blackwood, it's bad," the assistant's voice was anxious. "The hospital just called. Elara just took her brother away."

My eyelids twitched. "Took him where?"

"We don't know. She completed the discharge procedures, paid all the fees, and left directly with him. We can't track her whereabouts."

Paid all the fees?

Where did she get the money?

The veins on the back of my hand, clutching the phone, bulged.

Elara didn't have money.

She had never touched the card I gave her.

She only used a small amount of living expenses each month; the rest she saved...

No, wait.

I suddenly remembered that two years ago, Elara had apparently sold a painting.

She was a graduate of a prestigious art academy. Although not famous, her painting skills were excellent.

How much did that painting sell for?

I hadn't cared at all at the time.

"Find them," my voice was terribly dark, like the sea before a storm.

"Search the entire city! Find her!"

I hung up, my face ashen.

Seraphina was startled by my appearance, cautiously tugging at my sleeve. "Rhys, what's wrong? Is that mute... is that woman important to you?"

I shook off her hand, stood up, and looked down at the woman I had yearned for five years.

Suddenly, I felt utterly indifferent.

"I have to go."

With that, I strode away, ignoring Seraphina's stunned expression.

My car sped down the highway.

I gripped the steering wheel tightly, pressing the accelerator to the floor.

Elara.

Good for you.

You'd better pray I don't catch you.

Otherwise...

I didn't even know what "otherwise" would entail.

All I knew was that the hollow space in my chest was filled with cold wind, a sharp, aching pain.