A Decade of Lies Across Borders

My husband Steve works in America. For ten years after our marriage, we've maintained a long-distance relationship across borders.

I've been rejected for a green card ten times. On the tenth attempt, the visa officer laid it out for me directly:

Miss! Your so-called husband is already married! His wife obtained a green card ten years ago! Your marriage certificate is fake!

With that, he turned his computer screen to show me the documentation.

In Steve's spouse column, the name clearly displayed was his brother's wifeMila.

I couldn't believe it. I immediately called Steve.

He responded casually over the phone:

"Our marriage certificate is indeed fake!"

"I did get a marriage certificate for Mila. That's the only way her son David could come study in America. My brother diedI have a duty to take care of his wife and child!"

"Once David turns eighteen and we're sure he can stay in America, then we'll get married."

I didn't lose my temper. I simply said calmly:

"No need. I'm not interested in someone else's husband."

Then I called my assistant: "Notify Steve's companyI want him fired. And cancel his credit card!"

Ten years ago, Steve's offer to work in America was snatched away by someone else.

I couldn't bear to see him depressed, so I secretly created an exclusive overseas assignment plan just for him.

I not only helped him connect with the top American universities, but invested ten million to secure a professor position.

I paved his way with money at every turn, helping him build a world-class research team and become America's youngest external consultant.

Due to visa issues, I could only stay in this country three months each year before I had to leave.

For ten years, I traveled back and forth, exhausted.

Every year I prepared the materials needed for a marriage-based green card well in advance.

I reviewed every detail meticulously before submitting, but was rejected every single time.

Steve always comforted me:

"America's marriage green card review process is extremely strict, especially when the spouse is someone in a high-level technical position like me. Getting rejected is normalwe'll try again next year."

I always thought it was just my bad luck. Now I finally knowit was my pillow partner who fabricated everything.

I had even asked Mila before about how she got her green card, how she could stay here long-term with her child.

Every time, Mila would respond with a half-smile:

"Probably just my good luck?"

So that's how it was...

To say I wasn't heartbroken would be impossible.

Just after I hung up with my assistant, Steve's call came through.

I wanted to hear what else he had to say, so I answered.

The moment I picked up, I heard his scolding voice:

"Mila just found out you called to question me, and she's so upset she's crying. She says she wants to take David and withdraw from school to return home tonight. You've scared David to tears."

Over the phone, I could indeed hear Mila's sobbing and David's angry crying:

"Why do we have to leave?! I'm not going! This is my home! I won't let that bad woman come here!"

"Marta, if you're going to blame someone, blame me. Don't fight with Steve..."

Steve said to David and Mila in a gentle voice:

"As long as I'm here, no one can drive you away."

"I'll have her apologize to you now, okay? Marta, apologize to them."

I hung up directly.

I tore up all the visa documents and turned toward home.

This green cardI don't care about it anymore.

I hadn't walked far when Steve's car pulled up in front of me.

He rolled down the window and said:

"I knew you were angry. Fine, you don't have to apologize anymore. Really, why are you getting jealous over a widow and her child?"

"I came specially to pick you up. Get in."

I didn't bother saying anything and walked straight to the passenger side.

I opened the door to find Mila there.

She raised her eyebrows and said apologetically:

"Sorry, Marta. I'm not feeling well today, so I took the passenger seat. You can sit in back."

Steve looked at me nervously, opening his mouth to defend Mila.

After all, on any other day, I would have frowned and insisted on getting my rightful place in the passenger seat as the lady of the house.

But today, I said nothing and got in the back seat.

The visa center was eighteen kilometers from downtownhard to catch a ride.

If he was willing to pick me up, I'd just treat him as a free driver.

Steve seemed surprised. His lips moved as he turned to say something to me.

Mila interrupted:

"Steve, the car behind us is honking. Let's go."

I closed my eyes. I don't know how long passed before the car stopped.

When I opened my eyes, we were parked outside a Michelin restaurant.

Seeing me frown, Steve smiled and said:

"Mila knows you're upset about the green card situation. She specially wants to treat you to dinner and apologize."

I said coldly:

"Not necessary. I want to go home."

But Steve pulled me out with a laugh.

"Be good. Mila and I will explain the marriage certificate situation to you properly."

I sat down expressionless.

The whole evening I just watched the three of them interact intimately.

I lost patience and said: "If you have something to say, say it now."

Steve said unhurriedly: "Let me add some red wine first."

Right after ordering, David suddenly knocked over the wine. Mila cried out in alarm.

Steve quickly said to me:

"Marta, I'll take David to the restroom to wipe off his clothes. Just wait for me."

Mila shot me a triumphant look, then pulled Steve away.

But I waited a full hour without seeing any sign of them.

Instead, the restaurant manager came over and said politely:

"Miss, we're closed now. Please settle your billthat's 0-00,000 total."

I froze. The next second, Steve sent me a message:

"You insist on making things difficult for Mila and the child and refuse to apologize simply because I've spoiled you too much."

"Now I've frozen your card!"

Seeing me grip my phone in silence, the manager raised his voice:

"Miss! Please settle your bill!"

Whispered laughter came from customers around me.

"Coming here to eat when she has no money."

Countless mocking gazes fell on me like a resounding slap in the face.

My phone kept buzzing with messages:

"Marta, apologize to Mila and admit you were wrong! Promise you'll never bring this up again. Otherwise, you'll be detained in the restaurant or sent to jail."

I read his messages expressionlessly.

Then I looked up and said in fluent English:

"Go call your store manager. Tell them Miss Marta is here."

The manager didn't understand what this meant, but his instincts told him he needed to do as I said.

After the manager left, I took out that bank card from my wallet, snapped it in half, and tossed it in the trash.

Steve really seemed to think I was just some appendage who could only depend on him.

But he didn't know that I had long ago inherited my parents' estate, with business holdings spanning the globe.

I never told him any of this because when my parents died, they left a will stating that if I wanted to marry, I had to conceal my identity from my partner.

If my partner ever learned my true identity, all my assets would be taken by the family foundation, and I could only receive annual dividends.

I knew they did this to prevent me from being taken advantage of.

I once thought Steve was different.

He was ambitious and hardworking, stayed on at the university as a teacher based on his excellent academic record, and even got an opportunity to study abroad on a government scholarship.

But when the list came out, that slot went to someone with connections.

Steve was devastated and locked himself in his study in despair.

I couldn't bear it, so I secretly had my assistant donate a building to a prestigious American university in exchange for a joint training opportunity and a visiting professor position.

When Steve learned the news, he wept with joy, holding me and choking out:

"Marta, I'll work hard out there. Once I make something of myself, I'll bring you here to live permanently."

Actually, I didn't care about permanent residency status.

What I cared about was not wanting to only be reunited with him for three short months each year.

At this thought, a self-mocking smile appeared on my lips.

Turns out Steve never planned on letting me stay here with him long-term.

He had already given his legal status to Mila.

No wonder every time I came back, I'd see things in our American home that didn't belong to me.

No wonder every time, even before the three months were up, Steve would pack my luggage and tell me to go back early.

Turns out during the nine months I wasn't there, the house I had carefully decorated had another lady of the house.

Soon the store manager came in. As soon as he saw me, he bowed in greeting.

Then he said to the restaurant manager:

"Miss Marta is our BOSS. Her bill doesn't need to be"

I raised my hand to interrupt:

"Why shouldn't it be settled?"

I tapped the security camera above my head lightly and said:

"Intentional dine-and-dash. You should call the police immediately. According to local regulations, the debt should be recovered tenfold."

Steve, you got it backwards.

You've been deceiving me without any qualms all along simply because you've been relying on my love for you.

Now that my love is gone, let's see what becomes of you.

I returned home. The moment I pushed open the door, I saw an incredibly heartwarming scene.

David sat in Steve's arms, coaxing him to tell a story.

Mila held a fruit plate, occasionally feeding Steve a grape.

Her fingers brushed Steve's lips, and Mila's face flushed.

But my eyes were fixed on what Mila was wearingmatching couple's pajamas nearly identical to Steve's.

I had once bought these and begged Steve to wear them with me. He was dismissive:

"Marta, that's too childish."

When I came back the next year, those pajamas were gone.

I always thought Steve had thrown them away.

I never imagined... they were already being worn by someone else.

I kicked the door open, startling the three people in the room.

Mila cried out and hid helplessly behind Steve.

Steve looked briefly surprised, then asked with an ugly expression:

"How... how did you get back here?"

I laughed coldly:

"My own homewhy can't I come back?"

Steve was speechless. Just as he was about to say something, David in his arms already rushed over like a little cannonball.

He rammed into my lower abdomen. I slammed hard into the table corner, a piercing pain shooting through my lower back.

I stumbled and fell to the floor.

"It's all your fault! Every time you come, Mom and I have to leave home!"

"You bad woman! Don't you have your own home?! Why do you have to take over ours?!"

Steve pulled David back awkwardly, his face stern:

"Kids say the darndest things. It would be petty of you to argue with a child."

I gritted my teeth and barely managed to stand:

"Fine. I won't argue with a child."

Before a satisfied smile could appear on his face, I had already strode forward and slapped Mila across the face.

"It's the mother's fault if the child isn't taught properly. Mila! You deserved that!"

But my wrist was gripped tightly.

The next second, a burning pain spread across my cheek.

I fell to the floor, looking up at Steve with his raised hand.

He said to me coldly:

"Are you done yet, Marta?! Looks like today's lesson wasn't enough for you!"

As if suddenly remembering something, his face darkened:

"Today's bill was 0-00,000, and you don't have a cent on you! How did you pay?!"

Before I could speak, Mila said tearfully:

"Marta, even if you're angry with us, you can't hurt yourself!"

"No wonder that manager was smiling at you when we left. Did you... with him..."

She covered her mouth with a look of regret.

Steve's anger ignited. He looked at me with an ugly expression:

"Marta! To avoid apologizing, you'd rather sell your body?! Is this how you treat me?!"

"You're just... how can you be so cheap!"

He pointed a trembling finger toward the door:

"Get out! Get out right now!"

"Didn't you want to break up with me? Fine! Let's break up! Leave now!"

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and stood up shakily:

"Steve, this is my marital home. The ones who should leave are you!"

Mila's eyes were mocking, though her tone remained gentle and patient:

"Marta, I know you put in some money initially... but Steve already transferred the property rights of this house to me. Sorry, but you'll have to leave now."

I jerked my head up to look at Steve:

"You transferred our marital home to Mila?!"

Mila walked over and took Steve's arm, saying awkwardly:

"Steve was afraid David and I wouldn't be comfortable living in someone else's house, so he transferred it to me."

"He said this way I'd have my own home..."

Though I was already disappointed, at this moment I still felt my heart being cut by knives:

"This is our marital home! The home we decorated together! Steve! How dare you!"

He looked at me coldly:

"This house is Mila's now! No amount of talking will change that."

I looked at the two of them for a long moment.

Then I laughed lightly and made a phone call.

"Send me some people."

The moment I hung up, Steve let out a scoffing laugh.

"Marta, what are you pretending for?"

"You don't have a cent on you. Who could you possibly call?"

Mila also sighed softly, her tone gentle:

"Marta, I know you can't accept this right now, but things are what they are."

She lowered her head and stroked David's hair.

"Steve only transferred the house to me because he feels bad for us, a widow and orphan."

I said nothing, just looked at them.

Our arguing attracted quite a few neighbors. Someone recognized Steve and called out:

"Isn't that Mr. Steve? Do you need us to call the police?"

Mila smiled graciously:

"It's fine. She's our friend from back home who won't leave my house..."

Hearing this, they all looked at me with disgust. Someone even shouted at me:

"Ugly woman! Get out of here!"

Steve turned to look at me:

"Just leave, Marta. This isn't something an apology can fix anymore. You... you're already dirty."

I looked at him expressionlessly:

"$350,000."

"What?"

"The total price of this house." I said calmly: "I paid half, so you paid $350,000. Steve, I'll pay you back that $350,000."

Steve looked at me and lost his patience.

"Marta, stop talking nonsense. You probably took out loans for years just to scrape together your own $350,000. Where would you get the money to pay me back?"

He pulled out his phone and made a call:

"This is Steve. I want to report someone for forging documents to fraudulently obtain a marriage green card."

"Yes, I have evidence. Please come take her away immediately."

Steve hung up and looked at me with a complex expression:

"Marta, this could have been resolved with just an apology."

"I already explained to youonce David gets into college and he and Mila are completely settled, I can get our marriage certificate. Why won't you accept that?"

"You were willing to wait ten years. What's another ten years?"

I laughed coldly, but felt only sorrow in my heart.

So this is the kind of man I wasted ten years on.

Steve took a deep breath and said to me:

"As long as... you promise never to mention the thing with Mila and me again, I can explain to immigration that this was all a misunderstanding..."

"I know you don't want to keep traveling back and forth. I can promise that every year during university winter and summer breaks, I'll go back to spend time with you... Back home, we can still be like husband and wife..."

Hearing this, Mila glared at me venomously, though her tone remained soft:

"Marta, stop being stubborn. Do you know that if immigration takes you away, you'll not only face ten years in prison, but also a fine of hundreds of thousands of dollars?"

"The restaurant bill could be handled by the manager helping you out, but you can't possibly handle the prison bill by..."

Just as she finished speaking, footsteps sounded outside.

Steve's face darkened, with an undertone of threat:

"Marta! This is your last chance! If you agree, I'll go send them away. If you don't agree, I can only let them take you..."

But I calmly pulled at the corner of my mouth, shook off Steve's grasping hand, and walked over.

Several tall men in black suits and sunglasses walked in.

Steve's jaw clenched. He seemed to finally make up his mind, looked at me deeply once, then pointed at me and said:

"It's her..."

Before he could finish, I raised my hand and said:

"Smash it. Smash this house to pieces for me!"

Mila and Steve's eyes widened instantly:

"You're crazy!"

Before they could say anything else, they were tied up and thrown to the ground.

I smiled and walked forward, slapping each of them until my palms went numb:

"$350,000, right here."

I casually tossed down a check.

"Steve, my thingsI'd rather smash them than give them to you."

I said coldly:

"Smashing isn't enough. Bring explosives. I want this filthy marital home razed completely to the ground!"

"Marta! You're insane!"

Amid Steve and Mila's terrified screams, the house was instantly blown to rubble.

The massive explosion drew attention. Within minutes, countless vehicles bearing immigration and security bureau insignias blocked the entrance.

Steve roared:

"I'm Steve! A senior consultant hired by America! This woman is insane! She forged a green card and hired illegal personnel to maliciously threaten me!"

"She should be imprisoned for life! Arrest her now!"

But I wasn't afraid at all. I just smiled faintly.