His Illness Was Only for Me

I lived as a mute for three years for Ethan Lancaster.

I didn't dare speak loudly. I didn't dare touch my cello. I even kept my breathing quiet.

All because my hypersensitive husband couldn't stand the slightest noise.

Then I saw him at a noisy Livehouse, another woman in his arms.

They kissed passionately in the chaos.

It turned out his condition only applied to me.

My voice was noise, but her rock music was his cure.

That night, I signed the divorce papers, dragged my suitcase out, and left without looking back.

Three years later, at Vienna's Musikverein, I took the stage as principal cellist.

And he knelt backstage, clutching the ring I once wore, begging me to come back.

Right in front of him, I threw the ring into the trash.

"Trash belongs in the trash."

Stella Sterling POV

I spent three years being a "mute" in the Lancaster household.

Not because I couldn't speak, but because of my husband, Ethan Lancaster. He suffered from severe neurasthenia and hyperacusis.

Everyone in San Diego knew that Ethan Lancaster, the head of Lancaster Corporation, loved silence and hated noise.

He couldn't tolerate the slightest commotion. High-decibel sounds would give him splitting headaches and even trigger severe physical nausea.

Because of his condition, I lived like a ghost in these three years.

I carpeted the entire mansion with the thickest rugs. I wrapped every table corner and door hinge in soundproof foam.

I fired all the staff and took care of him myself, just because their footsteps might bother him.

I even gave up my cello. The one I loved more than life itself. I locked it in the basement and never touched it again.

In front of Ethan, I barely even breathed loudly. I spoke in soft whispers, never daring to raise my voice.

I thought it was his weakness. A physical defect he couldn't overcome beneath that cold, noble exterior.

I willingly dimmed my shine and silenced my energy for him. I became his quietest, most obedient wife in this tomb-like mansion.

Until tonight. A friend sent me a video.

The background was San Diego's most famous, and loudest, underground Livehouse.

Heavy metal drums pounded. Lights flashed. The crowd screamed. Their voices nearly lifted the roof.

And right in the center of the video, sitting in the front row of the VIP section without even frowning, was the man who "got physically sick from noise." My husband, Ethan Lancaster.

Through the screen, I could clearly see that Ethan wasn't wearing any noise-canceling earplugs. Instead, he lounged lazily on the sofa, his gaze piercing through the chaotic crowd, focused tenderly on the woman performing on stage.

That woman was Miranda Lynn.

She was the love Ethan had hidden in his heart for seven years, the first love he had once defied everyone, even risking a break with his family, to be with.

At the end of the video, cold sparks suddenly shot from the stage with a massive explosion.

Ethan almost instinctively stood up, strode quickly to the stage edge, and pulled Miranda into his protective embrace.

He gave Miranda all his tenderness and protection, completely forgetting that he himself was supposed to be a severe neurasthenia patient who "couldn't tolerate any noise."

I don't know how I walked out of the mansion or how I took a cab to that Livehouse.

When I pushed open the door, the deafening music hit me like a tsunami.

My eardrums ached from the assault, my heart pounded violently in my chest, and I nearly vomited.

I hadn't heard sounds this loud in three years.

For Ethan, I had grown accustomed to deathly silence, to soundlessness. My hearing had even become abnormally fragile from years of overprotection.

But now, forcing down my discomfort, I pushed through the wild, packed crowd step by step until I reached the front.

Less than thirty feet away, Ethan was looking down, saying something to Miranda.

Miranda's eyes were slightly red, as if she'd been wronged somehow. Ethan sighed softly, reached up to tousle her hair, his eyes filled with an indulgence and tenderness I had never seen in three years.

Was this really the same Ethan who would coldly tell me to get out if I accidentally knocked over a water glass?

I stared at them, tears streaming down my face.

I remembered the New Year's Eve of our first year married, when fireworks suddenly went off outside.

The loud noise left Ethan pale-faced. He locked himself in his study and didn't speak to me for three whole days.

After that, I never celebrated another holiday, never listened to music again.

I thought he was seriously ill.

I thought he was simply cold by nature, unable to tolerate external noise.

But only now did I suddenly understand.

Lofty angels aren't incapable of descending to earth. His hyperacusis could have exceptions too.

He couldn't tolerate noise. He just couldn't tolerate sounds I made.

Miranda's rock music was medicine that healed him, while my cello was merely noise that disgusted him.

How ridiculous.

I had once been the most brilliant young cellist at Vienna's Musikverein. Proud, radiant, supremely confident.

Yet for a man who never loved me, I clipped my wings.

I silenced my voice.

I spent three years in humble suffering.

A widow's marriage.

Since his condition had long been cured, since he'd already found his medicine.

Then it was time for this dispensable "mute" to exit the stage.

Stella Sterling POV

The atmosphere in the Livehouse reached its peak as the band began their encore, and the crowd below descended into complete frenzy.

The mass of people surged forward like a tide, and my body swayed precariously among the frenzied fans.

I was shoved by those around me, stumbled, and fell hard less than ten feet from Ethan's VIP booth.

My knee slammed into the edge of a hard step, and searing pain shot through me.

The commotion caught the bodyguards' attention.

Several black-suited security guards rushed forward, forcibly separating the surging crowd and roughly shoving me, who had fallen to the ground, back.

"Stand back! Don't disturb Mr. Lancaster and Miss Lynn!"

The bodyguard's cold voice cut clearly through the noisy music.

My palm scraped across the rough floor, tearing away a large patch of skin and drawing blood.

I didn't cry out in pain. I just raised my head and looked directly at Ethan across the short distance between us.

Ethan had clearly noticed the disturbance.

He frowned slightly, his gaze sweeping over coldly.

When he saw it was me, a flash of shock crossed his deep eyes, but it vanished instantly, replaced by undisguised annoyance and ice.

He didn't come forward to help me up.

He didn't even stop the bodyguards' rough treatment.

He simply turned aside instinctively, completely shielding the startled Miranda behind him, as if I were some dangerous beast that might bring harm.

"What are you doing here?"

Ethan looked down at me from his superior position, his voice cold as ice.

"Stella, have you sunk to stalking now?"

Stalking.

Sunk to.

Those words were like sharp knives, stabbing precisely into my heart.

Pain wracked my entire body, but I stubbornly refused to look away.

I gazed at Ethan's devastatingly handsome face and suddenly found it utterly unfamiliar.

"I was just passing by."

I forced myself to stand up from the ground, my voice hoarse and dry from not speaking loudly in so long.

"I apologize for disturbing Mr. Lancaster and Miss Lynn."

Miranda peeked out from behind Ethan. Seeing the blood on my hand, she immediately covered her mouth with a gasp.

"Oh my God, Stella, you're bleeding! Ethan, you should have someone take her to the hospital. There are too many people here, it's too dangerous."

Her concern sounded so sincere, as if she were the legitimate Mrs. Lancaster, while I was just a stranger who'd accidentally wandered into their world.

But Ethan didn't even glance at the wound on my hand, his tone utterly flat.

"Don't worry about her. She has legs, she can go to the hospital herself."

Then he turned to the bodyguards with a cold order.

"Clear out the irrelevant people. Don't let them frighten Miranda again."

Irrelevant people.

I silently chewed on those words in my mind and let out a low laugh.

Three years of marriage, over a thousand days and nights of companionship and compromise. In his eyes, I was just an "irrelevant person."

Following their orders, the bodyguards immediately stepped forward and gestured dismissively.

"Miss, please leave immediately."

I didn't look at Ethan again.

I straightened my back, turned around, and walked out that door step by step without looking back.

Outside, a cold autumn rain had started falling at some point.

Icy raindrops pelted my face and body, instantly soaking me to the bone.

I didn't open an umbrella or call a car. I just walked aimlessly along the empty street.

Flashing through my mind were the absurd five years I'd spent.

At twenty, I fell in love with Ethan Lancaster at first sight at a Sterling family banquet.

Back then, he was the brightest rising star, cold, ascetic, utterly unattainable.

Like a fool, I set aside all my pride to pursue him.

I learned to cook for him, tempered my personality for him, and even during the six months after his car accident from family power struggles when he was temporarily blind, I stayed by his hospital bed for the entire half year.

Later, he finally agreed to marry me.

I thought I'd finally moved his heart.

Our wedding night. He coldly tossed me a prenuptial agreement and laid down that "absolute silence" rule.

That's when I finally understood.

He married me for the Sterling family's influence. And because I was obedient. Quiet. Easy to keep in line.

And now, Miranda had returned.

The woman who could make him break all his rules, who could make him willingly endure noise, had returned.

I stopped walking, tilted my head back, and let the icy rain wash over the tears on my face.

Enough.

Really, enough.

Though I'd loved him humbly, the pride in my bones hadn't completely died.

Since he didn't love me, since his heart would forever hold only another woman, then I was done serving him.

These three years. I'd just consider them wasted on a dog.

I wiped the rain from my face.

I pulled out my phone and called my lawyer.

"Mr. Williams, draft a divorce agreement for me. As soon as possible."

Stella Sterling POV

When I returned to the mansion, it was already two in the morning.

I didn't change out of my soaked clothes or treat the now-congealed wound on my palm. Instead, I went straight to the basement.

At the far end of the basement sat a large temperature-controlled case.

I entered the password and opened it. Inside lay a deep brown cello.

It was my eighteenth birthday gift from my grandfather, and my "comrade-in-arms" through countless international competitions.

Since marrying Ethan, this cello had never seen daylight.

I reached out with trembling hands and gently caressed the cold wood grain of the instrument's body.

I carefully packed the cello and carried it back to the master bedroom.

Over the next several hours, I methodically packed my belongings.

I actually didn't own much. Over these three years, to match Ethan's minimalist, cold aesthetic, I'd thrown away all my brightly colored clothes. My jewelry box contained only a few plain accessories.

I stuffed the few items of clothing and documents that belonged to me into my suitcase. Finally, I placed the divorce agreement that Mr. Williams had sent over and printed overnight squarely on the massive black-and-white marble coffee table in the living room.

After finishing everything, dawn had broken.

At eight in the morning, the sound of fingerprint unlocking came from the mansion's main door.

Ethan walked in carrying a chill and the faint scent of tobacco.

His suit jacket was draped over his arm, his tie slightly loose, his brows showing traces of exhaustion from staying up all night.

When he saw me sitting on the sofa with a suitcase at my feet, his steps paused briefly, and his brows immediately furrowed.

"What are you making a fuss about now?"

Ethan's voice dripped with impatience.

"Wasn't making a scene at the Livehouse last night enough? Now you're staging a runaway drama at home?"

I looked up at him.

No hysterical questioning, no tears of grievance and compromise.

"I'm not making a fuss."

My voice was soft.

"Ethan, let's get divorced."

Ethan's movements froze abruptly.

As if hearing some absurd joke, he laughed coldly, casually tossed his suit jacket on the sofa, and walked over to look down at me from above.

"Stella, do you think you can force me to yield to you this way?"

Ethan's eyes filled with mockery.

"Miranda spent seven years abroad and developed severe depression and claustrophobia. Her therapist suggested she visit crowded, lively places for exposure therapy. I was only there last night as a friend accompanying her for treatment. As Mrs. Lancaster, with perfect health and everything you could want, must you compete with a sick person?"

A sick person.

A friend.

Listening to these high-sounding excuses, I felt nothing but churning nausea in my stomach.

"What about your neurasthenia?"

I looked into his eyes and asked word by word.

"Weren't you supposed to get headaches and nausea from sounds over fifty decibels? The sound system at the Livehouse last night was deafening. Why didn't your condition flare up?"

Ethan's expression darkened instantly, anger at being exposed flashing in his eyes.

"I took medication."

He looked away coldly, his tone forceful.

"Stella, my patience has limits. Don't push it."

"Right, you took medication."

I smiled.

"For her, you can take medication to endure the noise you hate most. But for you, I didn't touch my cello for three years and even walked on tiptoe. Ethan, don't you think you're a hypocrite?"

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

Ethan's patience completely ran out, his voice rising.

"I'm saying I'm done."

I stood up and pushed the document on the coffee table toward him.

"I've already signed the divorce papers. I'll leave with nothing. I don't want a cent of the Lancaster fortune. Just sign your name, and we can divorce tomorrow. From now on, you can accompany your beloved for her treatment, and we'll owe each other nothing."

Ethan looked down, his gaze falling on that black-and-white document.

He stared hard at my face.

"Stella, you've grown quite bold."

Ethan laughed in fury, grabbed the agreement, tore it to shreds right in front of me, and threw the pieces violently on the floor.

"Think you can threaten me into cutting ties with Miranda through divorce? You've chosen the wrong method."

He closed in on me, his eyes menacing.

"Let me tell you. I won't agree to this divorce. You'd better put that suitcase back right now and be the obedient Mrs. Lancaster you're supposed to be. Otherwise, I guarantee that once you walk out that door, you won't get anywhere in this city!"

With that, he turned without hesitation, strode out of the mansion, and slammed the door.

I looked at the scattered paper fragments on the floor. No anger, no sorrow.

I simply bent down, picked up my suitcase, shouldered my cello, and walked out of this prison that had trapped me for three years without looking back.

If he wouldn't sign, fine. I'd just file for divorce in court.

Either way, I was never coming back.

Stella Sterling POV

After leaving the Lancaster house, I moved into an apartment in the city center.

It was a property I'd bought outright before marriage. Ethan didn't know about it.

After settling in, the first thing I did was call my former professor, Leonard Wright, principal conductor of the National Symphony Orchestra.

"Stella? Is it really you?"

On the other end, Leonard's voice trembled with excitement.

"Three years! You finally decided to contact me, girl! I thought you'd really decided to spend your whole life as that invisible wife for the Lancaster family!"

My eyes grew hot. I took a deep breath, forcing down the bitterness in my throat.

"I'm sorry for disappointing you. I want to come back. Does the orchestra... still have a place for me?"

"Yes! Of course!"

Leonard answered without hesitation.

"Early next month, the orchestra is holding a major charity symphony concert at the theater. Our original principal cellist withdrew due to tendonitis. If you're willing, come to the orchestra tomorrow for an audition! As long as your foundation hasn't deteriorated, the position is yours!"

After hanging up, I looked at the cello standing quietly in the corner, and light finally rekindled in my heart.

Early the next morning, I brought my cello to the National Symphony Orchestra's rehearsal hall.

After three years without touching the instrument, my fingers were initially stiff.

But when bow met string and produced the first note, the muscle memory carved into my bones instantly awakened.

When I finished a difficult piece, Elgar's Cello Concerto in E minor, the entire rehearsal hall fell silent.

Then it erupted in thunderous applause.

Leonard excitedly patted my shoulder.

"Wonderful! Marvelous! Stella, not only haven't you regressed, you've gained a depth and explosive power you didn't have three years ago! The principal position is definitely yours!"

I was genuinely happy.

However, this joy didn't last long.

That afternoon, while I was alone in a practice room familiarizing myself with the score, the door was suddenly pushed open roughly.

Ethan's chief assistant, Marcus, walked in with several workers wearing moving company uniforms.

"Mrs. Lancaster."

Marcus saw me and bowed his head slightly, though his tone carried undeniable firmness.

"Mr. Lancaster has instructed us to take the antique cello you have here."

I stood up and blocked the cello.

"What did you say? This is my cello. What right does he have to take it?"

Marcus explained expressionlessly.

"Miss Lynn is also participating in next month's charity concert as a guest violinist for her comeback performance. However, her violin was damaged during air transport back to the country. Mr. Lancaster said your cello has excellent tone quality, and though they're different instruments, it can be used by Miss Lynn's accompaniment team to ensure a perfect performance."

I couldn't believe my ears.

"Has he lost his mind?"

I trembled with rage.

"This was my grandfather's legacy to me! It's something I value more than life! He wants to take my cello just to support Miranda's performance?"

"Mrs. Lancaster, please don't make this difficult for us."

Marcus waved his hand, and several workers immediately stepped forward, attempting to forcibly remove the cello.

"Don't touch it!"

I desperately protected the case.

Just then, my phone rang. "Ethan Lancaster" flashed on the screen.

I answered, my voice shaking with anger.

"Ethan, what the hell are you trying to do?!"

On the other end, Ethan's voice remained coldly indifferent, as if discussing some trivial matter.

"Marcus should have explained it to you clearly. Miranda needs a good instrument. That cello of yours will just gather dust in your hands anyway. Better to lend it to her."

"I told you, that's my cello! I'm performing next month too. I need it!"

I spoke through gritted teeth.

"Performing?"

Ethan scoffed, his tone full of contempt.

"Stella, you haven't touched a cello in three years. What are you doing running to the orchestra to make trouble? You think a concert is kids playing house? Don't embarrass yourself on stage."

"Whether I embarrass myself or not is none of your business!"

"Enough, stop making a scene."

Ethan cut me off impatiently.

"It's just a cello. I'll have Marcus order ten of the latest models for you tomorrow. Miranda's emotional state is very unstable right now. This performance is important for restoring her confidence. As Mrs. Lancaster, can't you be a little more generous?"

Generous?

Hearing those words, I found them utterly absurd.

For another woman's confidence, he would ruthlessly trample my pride and seize my most precious faith.

"Ethan, I'm saying this one last time. I won't lend it."

I spoke each word deliberately.

"If you dare let anyone touch my cello, I'll call the police immediately."

The line went silent for two seconds, then Ethan's ice-cold warning came through.

"Stella, must you make this so ugly? Believe me or not. You won't just lose that cello, you won't even be able to get through the doors of the National Symphony Orchestra!"

My heart plunged into an ice cellar at that moment.

Looking at the advancing workers and Marcus's expressionless face, I released my protective grip on the case.

"Fine. Take it."

"Ethan Lancaster, remember this. I'm giving you this cello as charity today. From now on, between us, all debts are settled."

I hung up and watched as the workers carried away the cello that held all my dreams and memories.

The moment the door closed, I didn't cry.

My heart had already died. It died in Ethan's casual remark about "don't embarrass yourself on stage."

Stella Sterling POV

Two weeks later, at the theater.

This charity symphony concert, jointly hosted by several top financial conglomerates, not only gathered the nation's finest musicians but also attracted countless celebrities and dignitaries.

I didn't attend as Mrs. Lancaster.

After all, we'd kept our marriage secret for three years. The outside world had no idea Ethan was married.

I came as a guest cellist with the National Symphony Orchestra.

Though the antique cello had been seized, Professor Wright had worked through the night to borrow an equally prestigious instrument for me, preserving my performance opportunity.

At seven p.m., the red carpet ceremony officially began.

I wore a well-tailored black velvet gown, my hair swept up elegantly.

Free from the oppressive rules of the Lancaster household, I felt much more relaxed.

I had just walked to the signature board when the crowd suddenly erupted in violent commotion and flashbulbs went wild.

"It's Mr. Lancaster! Ethan Lancaster is here!"

"Oh my God, who's that woman with him? She's gorgeous! Mr. Lancaster is actually helping her out of the car himself!"

My hand holding the signing pen paused slightly. I turned to look.

At the end of the red carpet, Ethan wore a custom black suit, his posture upright, coldly noble.

And on his arm was Miranda in a custom white starlight gown.

One in black, one in white, they walked slowly forward surrounded by countless cameras.

Miranda seemed somewhat uncomfortable with such blinding flashbulbs and shrank back slightly.

Ethan immediately turned aside, using his tall frame to shield her from some of the cameras, leaning down to whisper comfort in her ear, his eyes so tender they could drip water.

Reporters frantically pressed their shutters, someone shouting questions.

"Mr. Lancaster, is this beautiful lady your girlfriend? Did you come tonight specifically to support her?"

Ethan stopped, his gaze sweeping the entire venue before settling on the cameras.

"This is Miranda, tonight's guest violinist."

Ethan's voice carried through the microphone across the entire plaza, low and firm.

"She's also... a very important person to me. I hope everyone will support her performance tonight."

The entire venue erupted.

This was clearly Ethan announcing Miranda's status to the entire city.

Standing in the shadows not far away, I quietly watched this scene.

My heart was strangely calm. No jealousy, no anger, only indifference.

I turned and walked straight into the theater without another glance at them.

The first half of the concert went extremely smoothly.

My solo performance stunned the audience. With flawless technique and abundant emotion, I announced to everyone the powerful return of the former cello prodigy.

During intermission came the charity auction segment.

I sat in the orchestra section, watching the auction items sell one by one on stage.

Until the final featured item was wheeled onto the stage.

It was a pair of rare nineteenth-century European royal antique matching rings, called "Eternal Vow."

The instant I saw those rings, I took a sharp breath.

Before our wedding, I had seen this pair of rings at a private exhibition and loved them beyond measure.

Full of joy, I'd pulled Ethan along, hoping he would bid on them as their wedding rings.

But Ethan had only glanced at them coldly, shaken off my hand, his tone mocking.

"Stella, marriage is just a transaction of interests. Buying such impractical things, don't you find that ridiculous?"

In the end, our wedding rings were just ordinary plain bands, and Ethan, citing "inconvenience at work," never wore his once in three years.

And now, the auctioneer enthusiastically introduced the rings' significance on stage.

"'Eternal Vow,' representing love that transcends time until death. Starting bid, twenty million!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, from the front VIP section, Ethan raised his paddle without hesitation.

"Fifty million."

The entire venue gasped. Jumping straight to thirty million more. This wasn't just a display of wealth but a determination to win.

No one dared compete with Ethan.

The auctioneer excitedly brought down the gavel.

"Fifty million, sold! Congratulations, Mr. Lancaster!"

The host joked with a smile.

"Mr. Lancaster spent a fortune on this pair of couple's rings. Which lucky lady are you planning to give them to?"

The spotlight instantly focused on Ethan and Miranda sitting beside him.

Ethan stood up and accepted the velvet box containing the rings from the staff.

He turned his head, looking at Miranda beside him, her face full of shy delight, his voice carrying through the microphone to every corner of the theater.

"These past years, I lost something very precious and left behind a great regret."

Ethan's gaze was deep and devoted.

"These rings are to make up for that regret. I want to give them to the person who is most important to me."

The venue erupted in thunderous applause and cheers.

Miranda covered her mouth, tears of emotion streaming down her face.

And sitting in the corner, I silently raised my phone and recorded the entire scene.

I opened my email and sent the video to Mr. Williams with a message.

"Mr. Williams, this is the latest evidence of Ethan Lancaster's extramarital affair and transfer of marital assets. Please add it to the divorce litigation file."

After sending it, I darkened the screen.

Ethan Lancaster, since you love such public displays of affection, I'll grant your wish and let you love to your heart's content. In court.

Stella Sterling POV

After the auction segment ended, it was time to prepare for the second half of the performance.

I stood up and headed toward the backstage restroom. Just as I reached the corridor corner, I heard a familiar light laugh."Ethan, these rings are too expensive. I really can't accept them."

Miranda's delicate voice carried a hint of shyness.

"As long as you like them, any price is worth it."

Ethan's voice was low and tender.

"You deserve this."

I paused mid-step, intending to turn and leave, but accidentally kicked a decorative planter by the wall, making a soft sound.

The two people in the corridor turned their heads simultaneously.

The moment he saw me, the tenderness on Ethan's face vanished instantly, replaced by his usual coldness and wariness.

He instinctively pulled Miranda behind him, his brows furrowed.

"What are you doing here? Eavesdropping again?"

I almost laughed at his persecution complex.

I smoothed my dress and walked forward to face them both.

"Mr. Lancaster thinks too highly of himself. This is the only way to the restroom. I'm not bored enough to eavesdrop on other people's declarations of love."

Miranda stepped out from behind Ethan, her gaze falling on me, a flash of barely concealed jealousy in her eyes.

"Stella, don't misunderstand."

Miranda bit her lip, putting on a pitiful expression.

"Ethan only bid on the rings to cheer me up because I've been under so much stress lately. Oh, and I need to thank you for lending that antique cello to my team. The tone is really wonderful. Ethan said you didn't need it anymore. You're not angry with me, are you?"

These words, seemingly grateful, were actually flaunting Ethan's favoritism toward her with every sentence while twisting the knife in my heart.

Looking at her hypocritical face, I laughed coldly.

"Miss Lynn is too kind."

I lifted my chin slightly.

"Since that cello has already been touched by others and tainted, I don't want it anymore. Consider it a donation to those in need. After all, someone has to deal with the garbage."

"You!"

Miranda's face went pale, her eyes instantly reddening as she looked at Ethan with grievance.

"Ethan, I didn't mean anything by it. How can Stella say such things..."

"Stella Sterling!"

Ethan shouted harshly, his face terrifyingly dark.

"Watch your mouth! Miranda thanked you out of kindness, and you have to act like a lunatic making a scene? Apologize to her right now!"

"Apologize?"

I met his angry gaze fearlessly and smiled slightly.

"Ethan, have you forgotten you're supposed to be a severe neurasthenia patient? You could handle that noisy auction earlier, and now to protect her, you're even raising your voice. You two really are a perfect match. One with depression who can play violin in front of thousands, another with hyperacusis who can chat and laugh at a Livehouse. Truly two medical miracles."

My words struck Ethan's face, turning it iron blue.

For three years, I had always been docile and silent, not even daring to breathe loudly.

But now, each of my sentences hit precisely where it hurt.

"Stella Sterling, you're completely unreasonable!"

Burning with rage, Ethan suddenly reached out, trying to grab my wrist.

"Don't touch me!"

I reacted quickly, retreating a step sharply.

"Ethan Lancaster, you disgust me."

His hand froze in midair, his pupils contracting violently.

He stared into my eyes.

"Say that again."

He spoke through gritted teeth, the words barely squeezing out.

"I don't repeat myself."

I glanced at him coldly.

"Please control your people, Mr. Lancaster, and stop bothering me. Otherwise, I don't mind letting the whole city know that Mr. Lancaster is not only a hypocrite but also a cheating scumbag."

With that, I turned without hesitation and walked away from the corridor without looking back.

Leaving Ethan standing there alone.