The Sea Kept My Marriage Quietly

It was the seventh year of my marriage to Ethan when his first love, Celeste Dubois, returned to the country.

My mother was left in a vegetative state after Celeste's botched surgery, and my brother, Dylan, was thrown into prison by Ethan himself for trying to seek justice for Mom.

When I called the police, Ethan locked me up at home.

He forced me to kneel and apologize to Celeste.

After stripping me of all my dignity and destroying my family, Ethan said coldly, "Celeste is the woman I vowed to protect for life. The Miller family owes her, and you'll never be able to repay that debt."

Heartbroken, I jumped into the sea.

Three years later, I returned to the top as Shirley.

When he knelt in a pool of blood, begging me to come back, I stepped coldly over his hand. "Ethan, your affection and your life are both too dirty for me to stomach. Get lost. Don't ever show your face to me again."

Avery's POV

A cold, late-autumn rain, mixed with hail, lashed against the gray steps of the New York Police Department.

I was drenched, clutching a detention notice tightly in my hand. The edges of the paper were soft and pulpy from the rain, but the bold sentences on it were still glaring: "Suspected of forging evidence, commercial extortion."

The person detained was my brother, Dylan Miller, a renowned lawyer in New York.

And the one who had personally handed over the damning evidence to the police was my husband of seven years, Ethan Thorne, CEO of Thorne Group.

I don't know how I drove to Thorne Group headquarters.

As I pushed open the heavy door to the CEO's office on the top floor, even my breath was trembling.

The sprawling office was warm. Ethan sat on a wide leather sofa, head bowed, carefully wiping a faint red mark on Celeste's wrist with a cotton swab.

His movements were so gentle, his gaze so soft. A tenderness I had only dared to dream of in these past seven years.

Hearing the sound, Ethan looked up. Seeing me, soaked and disheveled, his brow furrowed, and he immediately shielded Celeste behind him.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was as cold as ice.

I slammed the detention notice onto the coffee table, my voice hoarse. "Ethan, why was Dylan arrested? What exactly have you done?!"

Ethan's face remained calm. He pulled out a wet wipe and slowly cleaned his hands. "Dylan fabricated evidence of Celeste's medical malpractice for extortion, involving a huge sum. I'm simply a law-abiding citizen cooperating with the police investigation."

"Medical malpractice?" I was so furious I laughed. "My mom is still lying unconscious in the ICU! Celeste, trying to prove her skill, performed bypass surgery with one hand, leading to massive hemorrhage. That's a fact witnessed by everyone in the operating room! My brother was just following legal procedures to sue her. How dare you say he's extorting her?!"

Celeste, hiding behind Ethan, trembled, and tears instantly welled up in her eyes. "Ethan, I'm so sorry, it's all my fault... If I hadn't returned, Avery wouldn't hate me so much, and Dylan wouldn't have turned to crime..."

"Shut up!" I cut her off.

"Avery!" Ethan abruptly stood up, his imposing height casting me into shadow. "How long are you going to keep this up? Celeste is a genius with a scalpel; her hands are meant to save lives, they must never be stained. Dylan was intent on ruining her career, so I merely made him see reason."

He said it as if ruining a top lawyer's entire future was a trivial matter, all to protect the woman he loved.

I felt a chill spread through me.

Seven years. I had stood by him as he rose from an overlooked heir of the Thorne family to his current position. I thought I was an indispensable wife in his life, but the moment Celeste returned, I became a joke, something to be sacrificed at any moment.

Ethan picked up a document from his desk and handed it to me.

"Sign this."

I looked down. It was a public statement. The statement required me, as a family member, to admit that my mother's vegetative state was a normal surgical risk, and to accuse Dylan of maliciously slandering Celeste for money.

"I won't sign." I glared at him. "Ethan, you can forget about me trading Dylan's life for her career!"

Ethan wasn't surprised by my refusal. He glanced at his wrist, his tone flat. "Ten minutes ago, I already notified the hospital to stop all your mother's specialized medication and life support."

My heart felt as if it had been brutally crushed by an invisible hand.

"Are you insane?! That's a human life!"

"Sign the papers, record an apology video, and your mom will live, and Dylan can get out of prison sooner." Ethan looked at me coldly, without a trace of warmth in his eyes. "A vegetable, or dead. You choose."

I trembled all over, clear tears finally streaming from my eyes. I looked at this man I had loved for seven years and found him terrifyingly unfamiliar.

"Ethan, did you ever love me?"

Ethan's expression was cold. "Avery, stop being dramatic. Celeste is the woman I swore to protect for life. Just behave, and once this is over, we can go back to how things were."

Back to how things were?

I closed my eyes in despair. I picked up the pen, and with a trembling hand, I signed my name on the statement that betrayed my soul and my family.

Avery's POV

After signing, I rushed like a madwoman to Thorne's private hospital.

Pushing open the familiar VIP ward door, I found it empty. My mind went blank. I grabbed a passing nurse and demanded sharply, "Where's my mom?!"

The nurse dared not look me in the eye. "Your mother... was transferred to a general ward."

I stumbled toward the general ward section. In the most crowded, noisiest eight-person ward at the end of the corridor, I saw my mother.

Gone were the premium private nursing and expensive life support system, replaced by only the faint beeping of a basic ventilator. My mother's already pale face now looked even more gaunt, as if she could stop breathing at any moment.

"Who allowed you to transfer her?!" I burst into the doctor's office, my eyes red, and confronted the doctor.

The doctor said, "Mrs. Thorne, this was Mr. Thorne's personal order. He said... the Miller family's current financial situation isn't suitable for occupying VIP medical resources."

I was stunned.

Just then, a pair of high heels clicked down the hallway. Ethan, with his arm around Celeste's shoulders, approached, surrounded by a group of bodyguards.

Celeste wore a pristine white designer trench coat, her face looking even more delicate than a patient in a hospital bed. She walked up to me and said, "Avery, don't blame Ethan. It's my fault. I've been suffering from insomnia recently because of online rumors, and my mental state is very poor. Ethan just wanted me to rest quietly, so he cleared out the best VIP ward for me."

To allow Celeste to rest, he kicked my mother, who was in a vegetative state, into a noisy general ward?

I was so angry I laughed, and violently raised my hand, but Ethan caught my wrist in mid-air, holding it tightly.

"Avery, just try to lay a hand on her!" Ethan's voice was as sharp as a knife, the force in his grip almost crushing my bones.

Despite the intense pain, I stubbornly didn't make a sound. I stared fixedly at Ethan. "Ethan, I've signed the papers as you demanded, why are you still doing this to my mom?!"

Ethan forcefully flung my hand away, pulling Celeste into his arms, and looked at me coldly. "Signing was what you should have done to save your brother. But you yelled at Celeste in the office just now, and you scared her. Avery, that arrogant temper of yours really needs to be reined in."

"I'm arrogant?" I found it utterly absurd. "She put my mom in this state, and I can't even raise my voice?"

"No one wants a surgical accident to happen!" Ethan impatiently cut me off. "Celeste is already very remorseful, what more do you want?"

He pointed to the ward door, his tone brooking no argument. "Now, apologize to Celeste. If she forgives you, I'll immediately have your mom transferred back to the VIP ward and restore all her specialized medication."

I froze.

Patients and doctors came and went in the hallway, all looking at us. I, once the proudest heir of the Miller family, Ethan's wife, was now being asked to publicly apologize to the culprit who had ruined my family.

Celeste, hiding behind Ethan, showed a barely perceptible smirk.

"If you don't apologize, your mom will be discharged from the hospital today," Ethan said coldly.

I turned my head and, through the glass window, looked at my mother in the hospital bed. I closed my eyes, swallowing all my tears and dignity.

With a soft thud, I knelt straight down before Celeste.

A murmur of discussion rose around us.

I looked up, my eyes, once full of starlight, now held only despair.

"I'm sorry, Celeste," my voice was flat, like a body drained of its soul. "Please, forgive me. Please save my mom."

Avery's POV

I don't know how I left the hospital.

When I dragged my utterly exhausted body back to the villa, the sight before me made my steps falter.

The patch of lilies I had personally planted in the yard was gone, replaced by large beds of vibrant red roses. Celeste's favorite flowers.

Pushing open the door, the living room's layout had been completely changed. The antique vase I'd bought at auction was carelessly tossed in a corner, and the sofa was covered with Celeste's favorite plush toys.

The master bedroom door on the second floor was open, and Celeste was standing in front of my vanity, wearing my custom-made silk robe and trying on my jewelry.

Hearing footsteps, Celeste turned around and smiled faintly. "Avery, you're back. Ethan said it wasn't safe for me to live alone outside, so he asked me to move in for a while. You don't mind, do you?"

I looked at her blankly. "Take it off. Get out."

"Avery!"

Ethan's deep, angry voice came from the staircase.

He strode over, pulling Celeste behind him, and looked at me furiously.

"What's that supposed to mean? Celeste's address was leaked by one of your brother's old clients, and people are harassing her daily. She can't handle any stress right now, so living here is the safest option."

"This is my home," my voice was calm.

"This is my home too," Ethan said coldly, looking at me. "If you're uncomfortable, you can move to the guest room."

Making his wife move to the guest room to give the master bedroom to his mistress.

I didn't argue, didn't make a scene. I turned and walked into the study, took a pre-drafted document from a drawer, walked up to Ethan, and handed it to him.

"Since you're so worried about her, then let's get a divorce. You can marry her and turn this into her home."

Ethan looked down at the document, which read "Divorce Agreement," and his face instantly darkened.

He snatched the agreement, tore it to shreds in front of me, the pieces scattering like snowflakes on the floor.

"Divorce? You wish!" Ethan grabbed my chin, his eyes sinister. "You think signing it will make everything disappear? Your brother ruined Celeste's reputation, and your mom left Celeste with psychological trauma. Your family owes her, and you'll never be able to repay that debt!"

"Ethan, don't you realize how absurd you sound?!" I was forced to look up, my eyes full of despair. "Who truly owes whom?!"

"In New York, my word is law," Ethan flung me away, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped his hands as if he had touched something filthy. "From today on, you are not allowed to go anywhere without my permission. Stay home and take good care of Celeste. Any problem she has will be your responsibility."

In the days that followed, I became a prisoner in that villa.

Ethan confiscated my phone and ID, cutting off all my contact with the outside world. I was forced to watch Ethan try to make Celeste happy every day.

Celeste said she wanted dessert from a Michelin-starred restaurant, and Ethan would postpone a multi-million-dollar meeting to personally drive and buy it.

Celeste said she was afraid of the dark, so Ethan would stay in the master bedroom with her, while I, in the cold guest room, listened to the laughter from next door.

I tried to use the landline to contact my former best friend, a New York Times reporter, hoping to expose everything.

However, less than half an hour after the call connected, Ethan returned home in a rage.

He threw a dismissal notice in my face.

"That reporter friend of yours has been blacklisted from the entire industry for fabricating false news," Ethan said, looking down at me, his eyes cruel. "Avery, I warned you not to resist me. The more you resist, the worse the fate of those around you will be."

I collapsed to the floor, staring at the dismissal notice, finally understanding that, in front of this man, even the right to breathe had been taken from me.

Avery's POV

A month later, New York's annual Medical Charity Gala was held at the Intercontinental Hotel.

This was the highest-profile event in the medical community. To completely clear Celeste's name, Ethan not only heavily sponsored the entire gala but also specifically established an "Annual Medical Miracle Award" to present to Celeste.

And the order he gave me was: as the representative of the "patient's family," I had to personally go on stage to present the award to Celeste.

In the dressing room, I looked at myself in the mirror, weighing only seventy pounds, and coldly refused. "I won't go. Just kill me."

Ethan stood behind me, dressed in a perfectly tailored black designer suit. He didn't get angry; he simply pulled out a tablet and opened a live surveillance feed.

On the screen, my mother lay in her hospital bed, a stranger in a white coat standing by her ventilator, holding a power plug.

"Avery, I don't want to force you." Ethan's long fingers gently caressed my cheek, his voice as soft as if he were whispering sweet nothings.

"But Celeste needs this award to rebuild her confidence. Just go on stage, hand her the trophy, and smile. If you do that, your mother's ventilator won't be unplugged."

I stiffened all over, my stomach churning with nausea.

I looked at the devilish man in the mirror, bit through my lip, tasting the strong metallic tang of blood.

"Fine, I'll present her the award."

The gala venue was opulently decorated.

When the host announced me as the award presenter, the hall instantly fell silent. Everyone's gaze, filled with curiosity, mockery, and pity, pierced through me.

Who didn't know that Ethan's wife was now just a decoration, a wife in name only?

Mr. Thorne had nearly driven his own wife's mother to her death for his mistress, and now he was making his wife present an award to that mistress. This was truly trampling her dignity underfoot.

I wore an extremely simple black gown, as if in mourning for someone. I walked onto the stage step by step, each one feeling like I was walking on knife blades.

Celeste, wearing the starry-night gown Ethan had paid a high price for, stood confidently in the center of the stage.

I took the trophy from the usher and walked up to Celeste.

"Congratulations, Dr. Dubois," my voice, amplified by the microphone, filled the room, utterly devoid of emotion.

Celeste took the trophy, and as she embraced me, she whispered with a light laugh, in a voice only we two could hear, "Avery, look, if I want something, Ethan will crush your dignity and offer it to me. What do you have to fight me with?"

I didn't push her away; I just looked into the void ahead with my dead eyes and replied softly, "Yes, you won. This trophy is stained with my mom's blood. Hold it tight, don't have nightmares."

Celeste's face subtly changed, but she quickly recovered her delicate, pitiful smile and delivered her acceptance speech to the audience, especially thanking Ethan for his companionship during her "lowest point."

Applause erupted from the crowd. After the award ceremony, I rushed backstage to the restroom and vomited furiously into the sink until only bitter bile came up.

It was Ethan who handed me a tissue.

He frowned, looking at my pathetic state. "Is it necessary to look so utterly devastated just for presenting an award? Celeste has been very generous about forgiving Dylan's actions, what more do you want?"

I didn't take the tissue. I straightened up, turned on the faucet, and splashed water on my face, droplets running down my cheeks.

I turned to look at Ethan.

"Ethan, I truly regret not dying in that car accident seven years ago, instead of being saved by you."

Ethan reached for my hand, but I had already turned and walked out of the restroom without looking back.

Avery's POV

New York's first heavy snow fell in the deep winter.

In my third month of confinement in the villa, I received a call from the prison.

"Miller family? Inmate Dylan had a serious conflict with another inmate and suffered a comminuted fracture in his right leg, compounded by a severe infection. The prison's medical conditions are limited. He must be granted medical parole immediately, or he faces the risk of amputation. Please have a guarantor sign as soon as possible."

Ethan had grudgingly given me back my phone so I could receive hospital calls. Hearing this news, my mind went blank. I rushed out of the guest room without even putting on shoes.

I sprinted to the study on the second floor and violently pushed open the door.

Ethan was sitting in front of his computer, on a video conference with several doctors.

"Ethan, please, save my brother!" I rushed to the desk, my voice piercing. "He needs medical parole, only you can sign for it, please let him out to get treatment for his leg!"

Ethan unhappily covered his microphone and looked at me coldly. "Get out. Can't you see I'm in an important meeting?"

"My brother is going to be amputated!" I was so anxious I reached out to grab his sleeve. "If you just sign, I'll do anything you ask, I'll give you all the remaining shares of the Miller family, please..."

"Avery!" Ethan violently flung my hand away, his eyes cold.

"Your brother deserves what he gets! He caused trouble in there, why should I pull strings to get him out? Besides, Celeste burned her hand with a cookie the other day, causing a small blister, and I'm having Swiss specialists consult on it. I don't have time for your brother."

I froze.

I looked at the world-renowned dermatologists on the screen, then at Ethan's cold, heartless face.

My brother facing amputation was less important than a small blister on Celeste's wrist?

"Ethan, are you even human?!" I trembled, screaming in despair. "That's a leg! He's a lawyer, how will he live without a leg?!"

"That's his problem," Ethan put his headphones back on, his tone indifferent. "Someone, take her back to her room. Don't let her step out without my permission."

Two bodyguards walked in and forcibly dragged me out.

I was locked in the guest room, frantically banging on the door and windows until my hands were bloody, until my throat was hoarse and I couldn't make a sound.

No one outside responded to my despair.

Twenty-four hours later, the door finally opened.

Ethan stood at the doorway, looking at me, curled up in a corner and covered in blood. His brow furrowed even deeper.

"Stop making a scene," he threw a phone in front of me. "The prison called."

I lunged like a madwoman, trembling as I pressed the answer button.

On the other end of the line, the lawyer's voice was heavy. "Ms. Miller, I'm sorry... because the optimal treatment window was missed, Mr. Miller's right leg... has undergone amputation."

The phone clattered to the floor.

I didn't cry, didn't make a scene. I just sat on the floor, staring blankly at the falling snow outside the window.

Ethan suddenly walked over to me, trying to pick me up. "Avery, it's just one leg, the Thorne family can support him. As long as you behave from now on..."

"Don't touch me."

My voice was soft, but it carried a chilling calmness.

I slowly turned my head to look at Ethan. In those eyes, all the love, hope, and even hatred I had once felt for him, vanished completely at that moment.

"Ethan, my brother's leg, my mother's life. I'll remember it all."

Avery's POV

The news of Dylan's amputation utterly crushed me.

I stopped resisting, stopped crying, and simply drifted through the villa like a ghost every day. Ethan thought I had finally become obedient, and his surveillance of me relaxed slightly.

That afternoon, Ethan went to the company. Celeste, carrying a cup of black tea, leisurely walked into my guest room.

Looking at me, staring blankly out the window, Celeste chuckled, her voice filled with triumph. "Avery, your brother is actually quite pathetic. The people who beat him up in prison? I arranged for them."

My eyes moved slightly, and I turned to look at her.

Celeste approached, lowering her voice, her eyes malicious. "And your mom's surgery. That bypass surgery was actually very simple, I could do it with my eyes closed. I just deliberately made my hand tremble. Who told your mom to always belittle me before, thinking I wasn't good enough for Ethan? I just wanted to show her how her proud daughter would be trampled underfoot by me."

"Aren't you afraid Ethan will find out?" My voice was low.

"What if he knows?" Celeste laughed triumphantly. "He'll just think I was wronged. Avery, don't you understand? In Ethan's heart, even if I committed murder, he'd hand me the knife. And you, even your breathing was a mistake."

Celeste finished speaking and left happily.

What she didn't know was that a miniature recording pen had been hidden in my wide sleeve all along. I had forced a maid, through a hunger strike, to secretly buy it for me.

That evening, I seized the opportunity during the maids' shift change and climbed down from the second-floor balcony using a drainpipe. My palms were scraped and bleeding, but I felt no pain.

I ran wildly until I reached the nearest police station to the villa.

"I want to report a crime! I want to accuse Celeste of attempted murder and hiring thugs to injure someone! This is the evidence!" I slammed the recording pen onto the reception desk, as if grasping at my last shred of hope.

The police officer had just taken the recording pen when the police station door was suddenly pushed open from the outside.

Ethan walked in, his face dark. The atmosphere in the entire station instantly froze.

"Mr. Thorne," the receiving officer immediately stood up and greeted him respectfully, handing him the recording pen. "Ms. Miller says this is evidence for a report."

I lunged to snatch it. "Give it back! That's my evidence!"

Ethan pinned me tightly in one arm, while his other hand toyed with the recording pen. He didn't even press play; he simply threw the recording pen on the ground and crushed it with his polished leather shoe.

With a crunch, my heart shattered into a million pieces along with it.

"Ethan! Why didn't you even listen! She admitted it herself!" I screamed in collapse.

"Listen to what? Your AI-generated fake recording?" Ethan's eyes were cold, full of disappointment.

"Avery, I thought your brother's amputation might make you behave, but I didn't expect you to be so unrepentant, using such disgusting methods to frame Celeste!"

He forcibly dragged me out of the police station and pushed me into his car.

Inside the car, Ethan grabbed my chin. His voice was incredibly cruel.

"Since you love running off so much, I'll completely cut off your hope. I've arranged for a medical charter plane to send your mom to a private sanatorium overseas tonight. You'll never see her again without my permission."

I was shocked, looking at him in disbelief.

Sending my mom overseas was equivalent to holding her hostage forever.

Looking at Ethan's cold face, I suddenly laughed, tears streaming down my face, my body shaking.

I finally understood that in the game rules set by this man, I would never win.

Since there was no way out, I could only choose death.

Avery's POV

The day my mother was forcibly sent overseas, I didn't go to the airport. I was locked in the villa, quietly watching the sky outside the window.

It was also that day, during a maid's trash disposal break, that I managed to get an old phone and contacted Julian Knight.

Julian was the CEO of a mysterious organization in New York, and a client Dylan had once fiercely defended in court. He owed my brother a favor.

"Julian, please, do me a favor." My voice was calm. "Intercept my mother's medical transport overseas. Then, help me orchestrate a foolproof death."

Julian was silent for a moment, then replied with a single word: "Okay."

The plan was set for two weeks later, on Celeste's birthday.

To celebrate Celeste's birthday, Ethan chartered a luxury cruise ship named "Star of the Ocean," sailing it into international waters. He not only invited all the prominent figures in New York but also forced me to act as the event coordinator, serving Celeste throughout the evening.

He wanted to use this method to announce Celeste's status to everyone, to completely shatter my last shred of pride.

On the cruise ship, the lights were dazzling.

I wore an inconspicuous uniform, moving through the banquet hall, checking beverages and arranging the schedule. I did everything flawlessly, even wearing an impeccable smile.

I knew Ethan was standing on the second-floor railing, glass in hand, watching me.

At ten o'clock in the evening, the banquet reached its climax.

Celeste, having had some drinks, walked onto the deck for fresh air. I happened to be passing by with a tray.

Celeste looked at me and suddenly spoke.

"Avery, what are you playing at?" Celeste stepped closer, lowering her voice in provocation. "Your mom is in my hands now, your brother is crippled, you'll never beat me..."

Before she finished speaking, Celeste suddenly stumbled backward, let out a scream, and fell into the shallow decorative pool next to the deck.

"Celeste!"

Ethan, who had rushed over at the sound of the scream, witnessed the scene.

He didn't hesitate, rushing over to pull a drenched Celeste out of the pool. Celeste, clinging to him, pointed at me and wailed, "Ethan, I just wanted to share a drink with Avery, and she suddenly pushed me..."

Ethan's head snapped towards me, his gaze like a knife.

I stood my ground, still holding the tray, without offering a single explanation. Because I knew, explanations were useless.

"Avery, you're truly unrepentant!" Ethan was seething with rage. He ordered the bodyguards behind him, "Lock her in the cold storage in the ship's hold! No one is to let her out without my command! If Celeste catches a cold, I'll have your life!"

The bodyguards stepped forward, roughly restraining my hands.

I didn't struggle. I gave Ethan a deep look, one devoid of resentment, anger, or anything but indifference.

"Ethan, I wish you two a lifetime together."

I left him with that cryptic remark and turned to follow the bodyguards towards the dark hold.

The cold storage in the hold was freezing.

I was pushed inside, and the heavy iron door slammed shut behind me with a bang, locking me in.

In the darkness, I didn't shiver. I calmly walked to a ventilation shaft in the deepest part of the cold room.

Soon after, the grate of the ventilation shaft was removed from the outside. Julian Knight's men silently crept in, handing me a waterproof wetsuit and a waterproof bag.

"Ms. Miller, the team to rescue your mother has succeeded; she is now safe. A speedboat is waiting for you in the blind spot on the starboard side of the cruise ship. There's a storm tonight, it's the perfect cover."

I nodded and quickly changed into the wetsuit.

Before leaving, I took out the wedding ring I had worn for seven years from my pocket. Ethan had personally designed it and had Italian artisans customize it; our initials were engraved on the inner band.

I handed the ring and my phone to Julian Knight's men.

"Place these on the edge of the deck."

Having done all this, I crawled out of the cruise ship through the ventilation duct and plunged into the dark, churning sea.