Beneath the Perfect Marriage

When I was twenty, the sky was gray. Estelle River stood in front of the camera, flashing police lights behind her. He held a stack of documents in his hands, his voice trembling as it came through the screen to my ears. "My father used illegal means to suppress Harper Group, driving Yolanda Harper's parents to unbearable despair, which led them to jump to their deaths." Those words pierced my already numb heart like a knife. I sat alone in the empty living room, watching Estelle River on the TV continue speaking—each word a direct accusation against me. After the livestream ended, he knocked on my door. I looked at him, his eyes red, as he dropped to his knees at my feet with a thud. "Yolanda, I'm sorry. It was my family that ruined you." "From now on, I will protect you for the rest of your life, never letting you suffer even the slightest injustice again." His gaze was so sincere, his tone so earnest, I almost immediately believed him. Back then, I had just gone through the destruction of my family and the loss of my parents, with no one around me to lean on. Estelle River's arrival was like a ray of light in the darkness; I instinctively moved toward it. I handed over my life, my heart, entirely into his hands. That trust lasted for seven years. During those seven years, he truly treated me well. He remembered all my preferences, brewed brown sugar ginger tea for me when I was on my period, and stayed up chatting with me until dawn when I couldn't sleep. I believed he truly would protect me for life, just as he promised back then. Until our fifth wedding anniversary. That morning, he was still smiling and telling me he would take me to my favorite restaurant that evening. But by the afternoon, he suddenly called and said there was an urgent matter at work; he had to work overtime, so our anniversary celebration would have to be postponed. I was a little disappointed, but didn't think much of it, only reminding him to take care of himself. Being home alone was unbearably dull, so I picked up my phone to scroll through the news. As my finger swiped across the screen, a photo suddenly caught my eye. The man in the photo wore the gray suit I had bought for him just days ago; his profile was unmistakably Estelle River. The woman beside him held his arm, her face radiant with a sweet smile. They stood outside a luxury boutique, their closeness glaringly intimate. My heart clenched sharply, and my fingers involuntarily zoomed in on the photo. It was definitely Estelle River, and I recognized the woman, too—she was the new intern at his company, Lena Jackson. My hand holding the phone started to tremble as I dialed Estelle River's number. The phone rang for a long time before he answered; his voice sounded somewhat impatient. "Yolanda, what's wrong? I'm busy right now." "Where are you?" I tried to keep my voice steady. "At the office. Didn't I tell you I have to work overtime?" His tone was natural, without the slightest hint of hesitation. "Estelle, you're at the office?" Holding back my tears, I asked each word deliberately. There was silence for a few seconds on the other end, then his voice, tinged with irritation, came through. "Yolanda, what exactly are you trying to say?" "I saw the photo—you and Lena, outside the luxury boutique." As soon as I finished speaking, the silence on the other end of the phone grew even longer. After a while, he finally spoke, his tone tinged with indifference. "I was just accompanying a client to browse around; it's nothing." "Does accompanying a client mean holding your arm? Does it require such intimate smiling?" I couldn't hold back any longer; my voice grew louder. "Yolanda!" he suddenly yelled at me. "Can you stop being so unreasonable? I'm already exhausted from work, and you're here, acting all suspicious!" "I'm being unreasonable?" I couldn't believe my ears. "Estelle, how did you swear to me back then?" "You said you would protect me for life. Is this how you protect me now?" "I already told you there's nothing wrong. If you don't believe me, there's nothing I can do." His voice grew cold. "I have things to deal with. I'm hanging up." Before I could say another word, the call was cut off.