Her Worthless Husband's Secret

On the victory cruise in the Grenadines, my wife watched as her assistant kicked me into the sea. My crime? I wouldn't give up my spot next to her for a photo.

You reek of mediocrity, the assistant, Dylan, sneered down at me from the railing. Why don't you swim back to shore? If you can't make it, the sharks need to eat too.

Two weeks later, watching a news report about pirates taking hostages in the Gulf of Aden, she finally remembered I existed.

"It's been two weeks," she said, annoyed. "Hasn't he sulked enough? Does he plan on living in the ocean forever?"

Her executive aide hesitated. "Ma'am... Mr. Pierce... his body has been recovered."

"Impossible," she snapped. "I was just angry! I had a private maritime rescue team on 24-hour standby! How could he possibly be dead?"

The aide looked pained. "Ms. Vance, Dylan canceled all rescue operations. He said it was on your authority."

He paused, then added, "Also, Ma'am... we found a manuscript among your husband's personal effects. The core code for the hundred-million-dollar Meridian Project... he wrote it. Not Dylan."

1

The project manuscript hit the polished floor of her office, pages scattering like fallen leaves.

"You've gotten bold lately," Victoria said, her voice dangerously low. "You think you can fool me with a forged document?"

The aide's face went white. "Ms. Vance, I swear, this was found among his things. It's the absolute truth."

Victoria's stiletto heel pinned a page of code to the floor. She pointed a trembling finger at the man. "He can claim anything he wants to get my sympathy, but he will not steal Dylan's credit. Not this."

"Dylan poured his soul into this project! Do you know how many all-nighters he pulled? He worked until he was literally coughing up blood from stomach ulcers. Did you see that? No."

Her voice rose to a furious shout. "What does Ethan Pierce know about code? He's a burnout who does nothing but play video games! Does he deserve to put his name on the monumental work of a better man? Does he?!"

The aide's shoulders trembled.

My soul, hovering somewhere over the other side of the planet, let out a hollow laugh.

Even now, she still believed it was Dylana man who couldn't write a single line of Pythonwho was the genius that had saved her company.

The aide knew it was pointless to argue. But he couldn't stand to see his boss so thoroughly deceived.

With a shaking hand, he held up another document. "Ms. Vance... this is an email from the International Patent Office. The core patent for 'Project Meridian' was registered three years ago by an individual under the codename 'S'. And 'S' it's the first letter of his surname, Pierce."

"Oh?" Victoria's laugh was exhausted. "So he's been planning this little fantasy for a while. Very thorough."

She turned, her back rigid. "Well, since he's gone to all the trouble of setting the stage, tell him he can just stay on it. Forever."

Without a backward glance, she walked out, her heels crunching over the scattered pages of my life's work.

2

Victoria Vance stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of her penthouse office. The setting sun stabbed at her eyes, and with an uncharacteristic surge of irritation, she snapped the blinds shut.

She kept replaying the words from the patent email.

"'S'..."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. She raised a glass of Bordeaux, the crimson liquid staining her mouth. Her expression was one of pure disgust. "Ethan, oh, Ethan," she whispered to the empty room. "You really have no shame, do you?"

Suddenly, the office's projector wall hummed to life, displaying an international breaking news alert:

[PIRATE SYNDICATE IN GULF OF ADEN DISMANTLED. SOURCES CONFIRM THE CRITICAL BREAKTHROUGH IN THE OPERATION CAME FROM AN AMERICAN ENGINEER TAKEN HOSTAGE.]

[DURING HIS CAPTIVITY, THE ENGINEER REPORTEDLY CRACKED THE PIRATES' SECURE COMMUNICATIONS NETWORK AND TRANSMITTED THEIR PRECISE COORDINATES TO INTERNATIONAL NAVAL FORCES.]

[TO COVER THE ESCAPE OF THE OTHER HOSTAGES, HE THEN DETONATED THE SHIP'S RESERVE FUEL SUPPLY, PERISHING ALONG WITH THE PIRATE LEADER.]

[WE PAY OUR HIGHEST TRIBUTES TO THIS FALLEN HERO.]

Victoria stared, her hand frozen in mid-air. She reached for the remote and clicked the screen off.

Swirling the wine in her glass, she sighed. "He probably did it for his family on the boat," she murmured. "Or someone he was with..."

My fragmented soul wept in the skies over the Indian Ocean.

No, Victoria.

I did it because I couldn't watch them execute the young couple on their honeymoon in front of me.

I did it because I figured it was better for one person to die than for innocent people to die with me.

I hacked their system, sent the coordinates, and then blew the fuel tanks. I thought I could make the jump into the water, that I could escape, too.

But the blast wave... it was too strong.

My body just couldn't take it.

Victoria's hand, holding the wine glass, paused.

"The Gulf of Aden..." she whispered, a frown creasing her brow.

That was on the shipping route, not far from where she'd left me.

She drained the glass in one swallow, then pulled the blinds open with a sharp, dismissive snap. "Impossible," she scoffed at the sunset. "A man like him? It would be a miracle if he didn't join the pirates just to save his own skin."

3

Two weeks, and still no word from me.

Victoria was at a gala, celebrating a new deal Dylan had supposedly secured, when it finally hit her.

I hadn't bothered her in a very long time.

"So," she mused to her aide, "is he really planning on making a career out of fishing?"

She waved a dismissive hand. "Tell him the act is getting old. I have a rescue team shadowing him; he's not going to die. There are better ways to get my attention than this childish stunt."

The aide hesitated, then decided to risk it.

"Ms. Vance... that day... Dylan dismissed the entire rescue team. He said it was on your orders."

"Oh?" Victoria's smile was glacial. "Are you implying Dylan would joke about a direct order from me?"

The aide swallowed hard.

It seemed Victoria had forgotten. Her private rescue network, a state-of-the-art emergency service, could be activated by only two people. Her, and one other person to whom she had granted emergency override authority.

It wasn't me, her husband.

It was Dylan.

"That's not possible," she said, her tone flat but final. "Only Ethan would stoop to something so low, trying to sling mud at Dylan like this."

"I gave Dylan the authority precisely because I was worried Ethan might use his position to bully him, to take advantage of his inexperience at sea."

Her eyes darkened. "But Dylan... Dylan would never be the kind of man who would stand by and watch someone die."

She fixed the aide with a warning glare. "Tell Ethan to spend less time plotting against you all and more time learning how to write a decent line of code."

"Ms. Vance!" the aide pleaded, his voice cracking. "He really hasn't contacted us! Not once!"

Victoria held up a hand, cutting him off. "You've been with me for a long time. You should know what's appropriate to say and what isn't. Think very carefully."

A single drop of cold sweat traced its way down the aide's temple.

4

Back in her hotel suite, Victoria called my satellite phone.

Of course, I couldn't answer.

After a dozen calls went straight to the digital void, she left a message.

"This little pity party of yours needs to end. The Meridian Project was Dylan's masterpiece. He deserves to be the star of the celebration. That is non-negotiable."

"This is business, Ethan, not a stage for your jealousy. Stop being so unreasonable."

"You're a grown man. Try thinking about the people who actually contribute to this company for once."

She paused before hanging up, her voice softening almost imperceptibly. "Ethan... you've taken this too far."

Putting the phone down, she walked onto the suite's terrace and gazed up at the brilliant tapestry of stars over the equator. Her hand rested on the cool metal railing.

For a second, it was like we were back on the roof of our university dorm, seven years ago. She was in a crisp blazer, fresh from a grueling pitch competition. I was dreaming out loud about renting out the planetarium for a whole night if we ever made enough money, just so we could watch the stars without any city lights.

We were side-by-side then. We were in love.

Then Dylan came into her life.

And the distance between us grew like the expanding universe.

She must have remembered. That I loved the stars.

And that my birthday was next week.

She called the concierge, about to reserve the powerful telescope on the observation deck, planning for us to watch the stars together that night.

But then her phone rang. It was Dylan. "Victoria... my head is killing me. I feel awful."

Victoria's expression hardened instantly. "Don't move. I'm on my way."

5

In his hotel suite, Dylan was slumped weakly on the couch. Victoria was gently massaging his temples, trying to ease the stress-induced headaches he claimed were from his tireless work on the project.

"Thank you, Victoria. I never knew the ruthless queen of the tech world had such a gentle side."

Her hands didn't stop, but her voice was laced with genuine concern. "That depends on who's willing to sacrifice everything, even their health, for the company."

My soul, already dead, still felt a phantom pang of heartache.

Because that man wasn't me.

Dylan's gaze fell on a beautifully wrapped box on the coffee table. He smiled. "I heard this vintage handheld is the birthday present you got for Ethan. Are you sure it's okay to give it to me?"

Victoria's massaging fingers paused for only a fraction of a second. Then she smiled back. "Well, he's not here, is he? Besides, you like it too."

I had to laugh.

Victoria, she despised pixelated games. She thought they were a colossal waste of time. He only claimed to like it after he heard it was meant for me.

Don't you see that, Victoria?

I closed my spectral eyes. I was just a ghost with no place to rest. I couldn't do anything.

All I could pray for was a swift reincarnation, for a bowl of Meng Po's soup to make me forget.

Then I wouldn't have to watch my wife cooing over another man.

6

The story of the hero engineer became an international sensation. The International Maritime Organization held a memorial of the highest honor and invited key figures from the tech industry. Victoria, as a leading voice, was on the guest list.

She accepted without a second thought.

Speaking as a representative of the industry, she even announced the unilateral creation of a hero's fund, endowed solely by her company, to compensate the families of all the victims from the incident. No cap on the funding. All to honor the greatness of a fallen peer.

On the day of the memorial, she stood before the tribute wall. The words "In Memory of the Brave American Engineer" scrolled across a large screen. Her expression was distant.

"An American..." she murmured. She gave a wry, sad smile. "If only Ethan had half of this hero's courage, we wouldn't be in such an ugly place."

It was just a photo op, she thought. Why did he have to make such a scene about where he stood?

She couldn't understand it.

After bowing before a wreath of white lilies, the event organizer approached her, the primary donor. "Regarding the hero's remains," he began nervously, "a request was submitted for identity verification, suggesting a need for a DNA comparison. Ms. Vance, what are your thoughts?"

"Who proposed it?" Victoria's brow furrowed.

The organizer hesitated. "Well, it's..."

Victoria's patience snapped. "The hero's body was subjected to an explosion and weeks in the ocean. It's already disfigured. Who, and for what possible reason, would want to put him through that all over again? What a profound disrespect to a hero."

The organizer wiped sweat from his forehead.

I let out another silent, bitter laugh.

Victoria still had no idea.

It was precisely because she refused to believe the initial coroner's report that her own loyal aide had desperately proposed this one last method of verification.

In the sterile quiet of the morgue, Victoria gave the order. "Cremate him. Let the hero rest in peace."

"Ma'am, are you sure we don't need to double-check?"

"It's not necessary." Victoria's voice was soft with a strange sort of pity. "No hero would want their broken body examined over and over. Grant him this final dignity."

My body was pushed into the incinerator.

After paying her final respects, Victoria walked out of the hall. "Are there any interesting new retro gaming consoles out?" she asked her aide.

The aide blinked, then quickly recovered. "Dylan has been very into the latest VR setups, the immersion is incredible..."

"I was talking about Ethan."

He froze again. "You're buying a gift for Mr. Pierce?"

"Mm," Victoria sighed. "Things have been... tense between us lately. A misunderstanding."

"It's not just for his birthday," she added, patting the aide's shoulder. "It's also... an apology."

"I'm putting you in charge of this. The budget is unlimited. Make it special."

"Yes, Ms. Vance!"

Behind her, my ashes were being carefully scooped into a small, cold box.

7

The aide managed to track down an ultra-rare, first-edition handheld console from a collector. The problem was, the device wouldn't turn on, and a thin crack spiderwebbed across the screen.

"Ms. Vance, I know Mr. Pierce likes retro games, but this one... it's too damaged. Perhaps I could commission a custom, top-of-the-line gaming PC for him instead?"

"No." Victoria stared at the scuffed and scratched machine. "Anything you can buy with money is just an object. This, the world's first handheld gaming system... this is priceless. Ethan will love it."

She took the device from him. "Leave it. I'll fix it myself."

"Ms. Vance?!" The aide's eyes widened.

Victoria was more than capable. Because Ethan loved to tinker with electronics. Back when she had loved him most, she had studied electrical engineering just to share his hobbies.

For five days, Victoria did not leave her workshop.

When she finally emerged, the console's screen was lit up, and the familiar 8-bit startup music chimed through the air. It looked as pristine as the day it left the factory.

"When he hears this," she whispered, a faint smile on her lips, "he'll probably come home."

Just then, her phone rang. It was Dylan, his voice weak and strained.

"Victoria... my head... I think it's splitting open..."

8

Victoria found Dylan huddled in the corner of a cold, concrete parking garage.

Blood was trickling from a cut on his forehead.

He was trembling, clutching at the hem of her jacket like a frightened child. "E... Ethan... he tried to kill me..."

My soul recoiled. Theatrical, even for him.

Dylan, his eyes red and swollen, pointed to a fresh bruise blooming around his eye. "I knew Ethan was upset with you because of me," he stammered. "I saw how you weren't eating or sleeping, worrying about his birthday... I couldn't stand seeing you so sad. I thought... I thought I had to convince him to come back, to make things right with you."

"I spent a fortune to track him down. He's been holed up in the presidential suite of a private club."

"But when I got there... I pushed open the door and saw him... with some strange, rich woman. They were... they were naked, all over each other..."

He choked on a sob.

Victoria gripped the fabric of his shirt. "And then what?"

Dylan shook his head, his voice trembling violently. "I begged him to come home. I told him you were waiting... but he... he treated me like I was garbage. He started hitting me, screaming at me for getting in the way of his new 'gold mine'..."

Victoria's pupils contracted to pinpricks.

"He said... if I dared to tell you a single word, he would make me disappear from the face of the earth."

"Victoria, look at my face... I was terrified... if I hadn't run, I don't think I would have ever seen you again..."

He collapsed into her arms, holding her tight.

I watched, my spectral form taut with tension. Victoria...

Victoria, you know me. Don't you?

Victoria, I'm not that person. You know that. Right?

He embezzled company funds! He got caught, that's why he's so desperate! He's terrified of you finding out the truth!

Victoria gently pushed Dylan away, her thumb brushing against the swollen skin around his eye. "Just rest. Get well."

She turned and left, driving straight home.

In her workshop, she stood before the perfectly restored game console.

She dialed my satellite phone.

Ten times.

Twenty.

Thirty.

One hundred calls.

No answer.

The corners of her eyes began to burn red. The blisters on her fingers from the soldering iron throbbed with a dull pain.

CRASH!

The console shattered against the wall.

"ETHAN PIERCE, YOU BASTARD!"

The machine lay in pieces. The force of the throw had torn open the blisters on her hand, and tiny beads of blood welled up. A single drop fell onto the broken screen.

She was panting, her chest heaving.

She wrenched the door open. Her aides, waiting anxiously outside, stared at her.

Tears streamed down her face, mixing with sweat. "Make a public announcement," she commanded, her voice ragged. "I'm marrying Dylan."

"A city-wide broadcast. Spare no expense."

Her knuckles were white as she gripped the doorknob, almost crushing it in her hand.

9

The wedding of the century was the talk of the tech world. It was even being live-streamed on international forums.

The comments sections were filled with a mix of awe and pity. The last time a wedding was this spectacular, one user wrote, was when Victoria Vance married the genius programmer Ethan Pierce. Such a shame about Mr. Pierce. To be so brilliant and still manage to drive a woman like her away... what a waste.

Victoria read the comments, heard the whispers.

Dressed in a couture wedding gown, just moments before the ceremony was to begin, she dialed my number one last time.

As always, it went unanswered.

Smack!

The phone hit the vanity table. Her chest rose and fell in a shallow, rapid rhythm. "Ethan," she seethed, "you showed me no mercy. Don't expect any from me."

She walked to the door, ready for Dylan to escort her.

But before the ribbon-adorned lead car could even start its engine, a solemn procession of vehicles, each marked with a black ribbon, pulled up slowly.

Victoria frowned. "Who dares to bring such bad luck here on this day?"

"Ms. Vance," her wedding planner whispered, "it's the funeral procession for that American hero engineer. The chairman of Global Shipping is on that ship he savedit was his sister. The chairman arranged it personally. He said today was the most auspicious day."

Victoria paused. The hard lines of her face softened slightly. "Fine. The hero goes first."

The wedding cars parted, making way for the funeral procession.

As the lead car passed, Victoria glanced up casually.

And froze.

"Stop!" she cried, rushing forward and blocking the lead driver.

Her eyes were locked on the rolling slideshow of photos on the car's large LED screen.

Because it was a slideshow of my face.

10

"What is his connection to Global Shipping?" Victoria's hand was trembling as she pointed at the screen. "You're honoring a hero! Why are you using my husband's picture?"

"Your husband?" The woman leading the procession, impeccably dressed in black, let out a cold, humorless laugh. "If Mr. Pierce is your husband, then who, exactly, are you about to marry?"

Victoria stared at the woman, her mind reeling. "Isabelle... it's you!"

She gritted her teeth. Isabelle Ross. Her biggest rival in business. In the past, they had always maintained a veneer of professional courtesy. But now, all of Victoria's composure was gone. "How dare you use my husband's photograph without permission!"

Isabelle's face hardened. "Mr. Pierce is dead. He has no need for 'permission'."

"Shut up!" Victoria lunged forward, only to be restrained by her own security detail.

Her eyes were wild. "Take that picture down, or I swear to God, I will burn my own company to the ground just to see you ruined!"

Isabelle simply raised her hand.

A worn, old arcade token dangled from her fingertips.

In an instant, all the air left Victoria's lungs. "Where did you get that?"

Isabelle let it drop.

Victoria dove, catching the metal coin just before it hit the pavement. She turned it over and over in her palm.

It was the one.

The one she had hand-engraved with their initials.

He had said it was their lucky charm, from the day they met. He said he'd carry it forever. There wasn't another one like it in the world.

Except this one... the grooves of the engraving were filled with something dark and crusted. It was blood.

"Where," Victoria looked up, her eyes flooding with tears, "did you find this?"

"Victoria, I never knew you were this blind." Isabelle looked down on her with utter contempt. "Your own husband dies a hero, and you need your business rival to collect his remains."

An official death certificate from Interpol was tossed at her feet.

Her hands shook as she picked it up. The moment she saw the nameEthan S. Pierceshe began to tremble uncontrollably.

She hadn't paid close attention at the memorial service. She'd assumed it was just some noble act by a fellow professional.

How could it have been Ethan? He was the man who would argue over a spot in a photograph. How could he possibly sacrifice himself for strangers?

"Impossible..." Victoria clutched the certificate. "I am his legal wife. If something happened to him, the embassy would have contacted me, and only me!"

"If I recall correctly," Isabelle said coolly, "there's one other person who has access to your private email and emergency contact protocols, isn't there?"

A sudden, deranged laugh escaped my soul.

Even Isabelle Ross knew. Only Dylan had the clearance to manage Victoria's most sensitive communications.

"You're saying... Dylan intercepted the notifications?"

Isabelle didn't have to answer.

Victoria whipped her head around, her mind racing. She remembered her aide's frantic warnings, the things he had tried to tell her.

That same aide now stepped forward, his face a mask of grim duty. He held out an evidence bag. After Victoria had threatened him, he hadn't dared mention my name again. Not even when the authorities had recovered my satellite phone and turned it over to him. He was too afraid of being accused of conspiring with me in another one of my "stunts."

Now, the phone, its screen shattered, was in Victoria's hand.

She knew my passcode.

She unlocked it. The first thing she saw was the call log from the day I went into the water.

Thirty-seven missed calls.

All to her.

First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "282771" to read the entire book.