My husband, Cameron Miller, had a strange, specific ritual. Every time we made love, he would first take off his hearing aids. He said he needed to see my expression clearly. To watch the truth in my eyes. And then, just as he was about to come, he would always slip them back on. He said he needed to hear my voice clearly. To listen to the confession of my pleasure. For seven years, this was our nightly script. Everyone called us the perfect couple, a seven-year marriage where the passion only deepened. On the day of our seventh anniversary, I secretly took that old hearing aid to a specialist. I wanted to have an identical one custom-made—a surprise gift for him. The doctor, a kind older man, informed me. “Mrs. Miller, this old unit has a stored voice memo. Would you like me to sync it to the new device?” Before I could answer, the doctor played the recording for me right there. The sound instantly plunged me into an ice-cold horror. I recognized it immediately: The voice of The Myth he worshiped—his unattainable first love. She was trembling, breathless, whispering at the height of her passion: “Cam, I love you…” … 1. The moment I heard that voice memo, the blood in my veins seemed to turn to solid stone. The doctor was fumbling with apologies. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Miller, I didn’t realize it was a… I’ll turn it off immediately!” But the woman’s breathless moans and declaration of love were already looping in my brain, a permanent, agonizing echo. I stumbled out of the clinic, numb and disoriented. The next second, my phone vibrated. It was Cam. I swiped to answer, and his voice, that familiar blend of possessive affection and urgent concern, came through. “Alisa, where did you disappear to? I came home and didn’t see you. You scared the hell out of me.” I opened my mouth, but my throat was too dry to form a sound. He instantly noticed my silence. “Why aren’t you talking? Your voice sounds tight. Who upset you? Tell me. If the sky falls, your husband is holding it up.” The sky falling? My sky had already collapsed. And the man who pushed it over was him. “I’m fine,” It took all the strength I had to squeeze the words out. “Just running an errand. I’m heading back now.” “Running what errand? The sun is blazing out there, you’ll burn. Stay put, I’m coming to get you.” He hung up. In less than ten minutes, his car pulled up beside me. Cam rushed out, opened the passenger door, and pulled me into a fierce hug, his hand immediately checking my forehead. “No fever, but why is your face so pale? Are you feeling unwell?” He retrieved an elegant paper bag from the passenger seat, presenting it to me with a proprietary grin, like a boy showing off a prized possession. “Look, that triple-layer mousse cake you mentioned yesterday. I drove all the way to the West Side for it.” I stared at the warmth in his eyes, at the open, undeniable love and worry reflected there, and a terrible, tight knot formed in my chest. Seven years. This man had used this flawless, relentless tenderness to wrap me up in a cocoon of my own foolish, self-satisfied belief. Back at home, the dining table was a vision of celebration: flickering candlelight and a perfectly decanted bottle of Cabernet. Our seventh anniversary. The atmosphere was strangely suffocating. I couldn't taste the food. Cam tried to speak several times, only to be shut down by my cold, rigid expression. After dinner, he came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. His warm breath tickled my ear. “Alisa, did I mess up? Did I do something to make you angry?” I remained silent. He sighed, turned me around, cupped my face, and kissed my forehead. “If you’re unhappy, I’ll clear my schedule tomorrow. We can fly to the coast and relax, just the two of us. How does that sound?” “You know, in my heart, nothing is more important than you.” Looking into his earnest eyes, I felt a flicker of doubt. My resolve was wavering. Sensing the shift, Cam walked to the bedside table and picked up the old hearing aid. Just like he had on over two thousand nights before. As he was about to put it in, I grabbed his hand abruptly. “Cam,” I forced a smile, looking him straight in the eye. “That thing is so old, it’s about to break down. Let’s get you the new version I ordered, okay? Let me just throw this old one out.” Cam’s movement froze. The gentle smile on his face wavered, then solidified into an expressionless mask. He quickly recovered, smoothly withdrawing his hand. His tone was firm but soothing. “Why the sudden change? It’s been this way for seven years, Alisa.” He held the hearing aid, stroking it as if it were a rare, priceless artifact. “You don’t understand, Alisa. This isn’t just a piece of technology. It’s been with us since the beginning, since that awful rental apartment. It’s a testament to everything we’ve built.” A testament? A testament to seven years of lies and manipulation? A sudden, white-hot fury flared up inside me. I snatched the device from his grasp. “I am the person who stood by you! Cam, your focus should be on me, not on a cold, inanimate machine!” “I said, I’m throwing it away!” Clutching the hearing aid, I spun around, heading for the trash bin. “Don’t you dare!” Cam’s face completely darkened. For the first time, those eyes that were always filled with soft affection now held a sharp, terrifying intensity. He lunged forward, grabbing the hearing aid out of my hand. He clenched it tightly in his palm, guarding it like a sacred, irreplaceable treasure. His voice was a low, unprecedented warning, edged with ice. “Alisa Wells. Do not touch that again!” Then, without so much as a glance at me, he spun on his heel and strode out of the bedroom, slamming the door shut with a violent BANG. I stumbled backward from the force of his exit, collapsing onto the floor. I sat there, staring at the closed door, cold to the bone. In seven years, this was a first. He had left me alone. 2. Cam never came back that night. The next morning, I came downstairs, my eyes raw and swollen, only to find him in the kitchen, apron tied around his waist, busy making breakfast. He heard me and immediately turned, a cajoling smile on his face, though the dark circles under his eyes betrayed his sleepless night. “Alisa, you’re up? Come eat.” He walked over to me, carefully took my hand, and his voice was the familiar, comforting tone of a loving husband. “I was an ass yesterday. I shouldn't have yelled about the hearing aid. It just… it holds so many memories of when we had nothing. I was overly sensitive. Please, don’t be mad at me, okay?” He lowered his head and pressed a light kiss to the back of my hand. “You know I can’t function without you.” Looking at his sincere, slightly exhausted eyes, I almost allowed myself to believe that the previous night had simply been a terrible nightmare. My heart, shamefully, softened. What if the recording was truly just a misunderstanding? The idea, once planted, grew frantically. We had spent seven years together, climbing from a cramped rental to the top of a publicly traded company. We’d weathered real storms. What could a misunderstanding be that we couldn't talk through? I took a deep breath, deciding to break the awful stalemate. He was looking at me, his eyes pleading. “Alisa, I messed up. Please talk to me.” I nodded. “I’ll bring you lunch at the office today.” Cam’s eyes instantly lit up, as if he’d been granted a full pardon. “Perfect! I’ll finish up my morning meetings and wait for you. What do you want? I'll have my assistant pre-order something.” “Don’t bother. I’ll make it.” That afternoon, carrying a stainless steel thermos, I walked into Cameron's company for the first time. He always insisted that corporate life was too stressful and messy, and he wanted me to remain a worry-free princess. The receptionist was surprised to see me, but politely led me toward the CEO’s suite. The door wasn’t fully closed. As I was about to push it open, a melodic, overtly flirtatious female voice floated out. “Cam, the Q2 earnings report looks sketchy. Why don’t you come look at it over here?” This was followed by Cam’s voice, a familiar tone of exasperated indulgence. “You’re just too lazy to use your own brain, Teresa.” I pushed the door open, freezing in the doorway. The woman was a dazzling, striking beauty—a stark, vibrant contrast to my own quiet elegance. But I recognized her instantly. Teresa Sabrina. That face—the one I’d only seen on the old campus forums seven years ago, the one universally revered as the Art Department’s untouchable goddess. She was draped across Cam, practically sitting in his lap. They were bent close, heads nearly touching, intimately reviewing the same document. Hearing the door, Cam reflexively looked up, and his face instantly drained of color. He tried to pull away from Teresa, but she tightened her grip on his arm, leaning even closer, her full chest intentionally brushing against his bicep. She raised her head, giving me a slow, assessing look, her eyes holding a glint of genuine contempt. “Well, hello there. You must be Mrs. Miller. I thought you were the catering staff.” She laughed, a bright, brittle sound. “Cam is hard of hearing, you know. I have to be close so he can follow. You don’t mind, do you?” I ignored her, my eyes locked on Cam, waiting for his reaction. I waited for him to shove her away, to step in front of me and shield me, to offer the quick, practiced explanation I was used to. But he just stood there, frozen. His gaze was shifty, his face a miserable portrait of guilt and helplessness. “Alisa, please don’t misunderstand. Teresa is our new financial consultant. We were just… going over work.” Going over work? Did their "work" involve being intimately wrapped around each other? A sudden buzz filled my head. Everything fractured. The whispered gossip from college, the judging eyes, they all flooded back. “Did you hear? Campus King Cameron Miller is dating Alisa Wells now.” “Everyone knows he loves Teresa Sabrina. Alisa is just a rebound, a desperate fallback.” “Teresa didn’t want the poor guy back then, so Alisa got the sloppy seconds.” The thermos clattered from my hand, the noise swallowed by the thick carpet. Hot soup splashed across the floor. I didn't say a word. I turned and walked out. And again, just like the night before, Cameron did not follow me. 3. I don’t know how I made it back to the house. It wasn't until well after dark that Cam finally returned. He tiptoed into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. He smelled of Scotch and a faint, cloying scent of another woman’s perfume. Teresa’s scent. He reached out to hold me, but I pulled away. In the dark, he sighed, his voice low and placating. “Alisa, don’t be like this. Teresa just got back from overseas. She’s naive, she doesn’t know corporate protocol. I was just taking care of her a little extra.” “We’ve been together for seven years. Do you really not trust me?” He wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me tight against his body. “Okay, stop being upset. I promise you, I’ll keep my distance from her. It’s over, okay?” His embrace, once my most cherished sanctuary, now felt like a cold, suffocating cage. I didn’t struggle. I let him hold me, trying to absorb the illusion of warmth. His kisses became frantic, scattered along my neck, and his hands began to wander beneath my silk pajamas. Everything was exactly as it had been for the past seven years. In the heat of the moment, his breathing grew ragged, and his hand instinctively reached for the bedside table. That action—that unconscious reflex—was the final, crushing weight that broke the fragile dam of my suppressed anger and humiliation. The instant he picked up that old hearing aid, ready to put it on, I lunged and sat bolt upright. “Cameron Miller!” My voice was sharp, a hysterical tremor that didn’t sound like my own. “In your mind, do I even measure up to a strand of her hair?!” My reaction startled him. He froze, the hearing aid half-raised to his ear. “Tell me! These seven years—was I nothing but her replacement? Her stand-in?” He opened his mouth, perhaps to lie, but the look of genuine shock, mixed with undeniable guilt, was all the answer I needed. The last thread of my sanity snapped. I ripped the hearing aid from his grip, raised my hand, and brought it down with every ounce of force I possessed! CRACK! The device he treated as a sacred relic shattered into a dozen irreparable fragments on the hardwood floor. Cam’s eyes flew wide open, staring at the destruction in pure disbelief. He threw himself onto the floor, scrambling on his hands and knees, frantically trying to piece the shards back together. His fingers were sliced by the sharp edges, tiny beads of blood welling up. He looked up at me, his eyes bloodshot, glaring. “Alisa! Have you lost your mind?!” He roared, his voice distorted by fury. “Haven’t I been good enough for you for seven years?! I treated you like a damn princess! Do you know the hell I went through building this company? The discrimination I faced?!” He rose to his feet, stepping closer, his eyes cold and sharp as knives. “We could have coasted through this life! We could have acted happy forever! But you just had to go after Teresa! You just had to force me to say the words!” He gritted his teeth, pushing the words out through a narrow opening. “Fine! You want the truth? I’ll give it to you! Yes! I never got over her!” He turned, ready to slam the door on me again. As his hand closed around the doorknob, I used the last of my strength to ask the question that had suffocated me for seven years. “If you love her, why did you marry me?” Cam’s footsteps halted. He didn't turn around, but the sentence he left hanging in the air was enough to cast me into eternal darkness. “Because I didn’t want her to suffer.” The door crashed shut. I started to laugh, a horrible sound that quickly dissolved into blinding tears. He didn't want her to suffer? Teresa Sabrina was a society heiress. And what was I? To be with him, I had cut ties with my family, giving up everything that was easily handed to me. He didn't know that when clients made him drink himself sick, I was the one who went in his place, downing hard liquor until my stomach bled, just to secure that contract. He didn't know that when he crossed the wrong people in the city and was blacklisted, I went and knelt at the feet of my ex-fiancé, licking the dirt off his bespoke shoes, just to buy Cam a sliver of hope. I was willing to suffer for him, so he wouldn't have to. And he? He didn't want her to suffer. Therefore, all the suffering was reserved for me. The irony was blinding. 4. Cam returned the next morning. He came bearing an unprecedented avalanche of material compensation, as if to apologize for his brutal loss of control. A stack of documents lay before me: the deed to the city’s newest luxury high-rise property, and an official transfer of 49% of his company’s shares to my name. His face was contrite. “Alisa, I was a bastard yesterday. I said terrible things. The hearing aid… it’s just a thing. Forget about it.” He produced a velvet box from behind his back, opening it before me. Inside lay a massive pink diamond, perfectly cut, its fire dazzling. “We were broke when we got married, and all I had was a soda can tab to propose with. I swore I’d give you the world’s best one day.” He slipped the colossal pink diamond ring onto my finger, gripping my hand tightly. “Tonight, after the company’s IPO launch party, I’m going to give you the most spectacular wedding the city has ever seen. What do you say?” I looked up at him and gave him the most brilliant, radiant smile I could muster. “Yes.” That night, the IPO launch party was the talk of the town, streamed live on every major platform. Every significant figure in the city was there. In the glittering ballroom, Cam, in his bespoke tuxedo, moved with the confident swagger of a man on top of the world. He was, without a doubt, the centerpiece of the evening. Meanwhile, escorted by my closest friend, Brooke, I was in a black town car, speeding toward the airport. The car’s screen was tuned to the live broadcast of the gala. The camera focused on Cam—handsome, assured, fielding one interview after another. He was running the show, so wrapped up in the glory that he hadn't even noticed his co-star, the woman he was about to propose to, was gone. Finally, the event reached its crescendo. Cam walked onto the main stage, standing under the spotlight, facing thousands of guests and the national audience. He took the microphone, his voice ringing clearly across the venue. “Tonight, standing here, there is one person I need to thank. Without her, there would be no Cameron Miller today.” “Seven years ago, I owed her a ceremony. Tonight, I intend to give it to her, in front of the entire world.” In the car, Brooke excitedly grabbed my arm. “The jerk finally grew a conscience! He’s about to profess his love to you in front of the world!” Before she could finish, Cam’s heartfelt voice sounded again. “Teresa Sabrina, thank you.” My heart stopped beating. “Thank you for the push, the motivation, that drove me here today. Everything I owed you from the past, I will repay in double, starting tonight.” “I’m going to give you the most beautiful thing in the world.” The entire hall erupted in a thunderous applause and cheering. Teresa Sabrina, wearing a pristine white gown, looking like a sanctified princess, walked onto the stage, surrounded by adoring guests. Cam pulled a different velvet box from his pocket and dropped to one knee. Inside the box was a teardrop-cut Ocean Heart Sapphire ring. I looked at that sapphire, then at the massive pink diamond on my own finger, and I laughed. Years ago, when we were poor, we saw them at an auction preview. The pink diamond was the most expensive, most obvious piece. The Ocean Heart Sapphire was a global one-of-a-kind, unique and impossible to attain. I slowly pulled the immensely valuable pink diamond from my finger, rolled down the window, and tossed it into the night without a second thought. Almost simultaneously on the live feed, a uniformed staff member rushed onto the stage and handed Cam a beautifully wrapped gift box. Cam, eyes full of tearful gratitude, thinking it was Teresa’s returning gesture, took the box and opened it in front of the crowd. Inside, resting on the velvet lining, was an old, identical model of the hearing aid I had just smashed. He smiled, his eyes softening with that familiar, possessive affection. He picked it up, put it on with practiced ease, and looked at Teresa with smoldering affection. “You little minx. You remembered this. What secret message did you record for me this time?” The smile was wiped clean from his face in the next second. As he registered the recording, his expression froze, instantly replaced by a look of profound horror and terror. He shoved Teresa aside and scrambled to the edge of the stage, screaming into the microphone, his voice raw and desperate. “Alisa! Where is my wife! Where is Alisa Wells!” “Turn this city upside down! Find her for me!”
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "390569", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel