After My Miscarriage, I Divorced the CEO Who Faked His Silence

Three years into our marriage, my husband Chester Delgado suddenly lost the ability to speak.

He understood everything. He just refused to say a single word.

To take care of him, I walked away from a career at the top of the simultaneous interpreting industry and became his shadow.

I ran his meetings, drank on his behalf at business dinners, stepped in for every situation that needed a voice.

I believed my sacrifice would bring him back.

Then, three months pregnant, I slipped in the bathroom. Warm blood pooled beneath me in an instant.

Terrified out of my mind, I grabbed the hem of his trousers and forced out every word I had left in me.

"Chester, call a doctor. Save our baby."

He looked away. Stepped over me. Left.

The day I was discharged, I dragged my hollow body home

and heard a low, beautiful voice drifting from the study.

"This song is only for you."

Chester was wearing headphones, crooning a love song.

His eyes were half-lidded, his whole face soft in a way I'd never seen directed at me.

On the other side of the screen was his childhood sweetheart, the one he hadn't seen in years.

He was gazing at her, and the light in his eyes

was brighter than any star I had ever seen.

In that moment, I finally understood.

Chester didn't have mutism. He simply had nothing to say to me.

If that was the case, then this one-woman show was over.

I knew the song Chester was singing. I knew it well.

When we were first together, he used to hum it in front of me constantly.

The look he'd worn back thenit was the same one on his face right now.

My vision blurred.

For three years, I had wanted nothing more than to hear Chester speak again.

Even one word would have been enough.

He never gave me that.

Now the wish had come true, and a thousand days and nights of chasing doctors and begging for cures became a joke.

I swallowed the tears back down and returned to the bedroom.

Chester's phone sat on the nightstand.

He had given me his passcode a long time ago.

I had never once opened it. I trusted him. We were married.

Six years togetherdating and marriedand this was the first time I'd ever wanted to check.

He had one pinned contact on WeChat now.

Glenda Fox.

Back when we were dating, I had complained about how slow he was at replying and half-jokingly begged him to pin my chat.

He laughed it off, said he'd try to reply faster when he saw my messages.

He never pinned me.

When I brought it up again, he sighed and said he had too many work contacts for pinning to matter.

I let him talk me out of it. But the gray feeling stayed.

It wasn't until much, much later that I understood what that feeling was.

The quiet ache of not mattering enough.

Their chat history looked harmless.

Glenda shared a sunrise; Chester sent back a rainbow after the rain.

Nothing that would look wrong if anyone else read itevery message carefully inside the line marked "friends."

But that kind of idle, pointless back-and-forth had disappeared from my life with Chester a long time ago.

Our messages had been reduced to a handful of cold templates.

Working late? Have you eaten? Did the contract get signed?

I was about to close the chat when I accidentally tapped into his saved messages.

There was a pinned voice note from Glenda.

I pressed play. A bright, clear female voice filled the room.

"Chester, if you hadn't been so sharp-tongued back then, maybe we wouldn't have missed our chance."

The timestamp was three years ago.

The same day Chester lost his voice.

Something broke open in my chest, and cold air rushed straight through.

So his illness had been a lie. All of it.

Chester had punished himself with silencea monument to the love he missed out on.

And he'd kept it from melied to my face every single night for three years.

I scrubbed the tears away and set the phone back exactly where I'd found it.

I pulled open the bottom drawer of the nightstand. Inside were all my professional certifications.

My fingertips traced the embossed lettering, and for a moment I saw myself againstanding at the front of a conference hall, commanding the room.

But just days ago I'd been nothing. A useless thing that couldn't even keep her own baby alive.

I dialed the number I knew by heart.

The call connected, and a strong, weathered voice came through.

"Georgina, is that you?"

I drew a deep breath and answered clearly. "Professor Bennett, I want to come back. Is there still a place for me?"

Silence on the other end, just for a beat, then unmistakable delight breaking through.

"Of course there is! My chief interpreter seat is open and waiting!"

After I hung up, I gathered my important documents together.

I had barely stepped out of the bedroom when I saw Chester coming out of his study.

The smile from his video call with Glenda was still sitting on his face.

The moment he noticed me, his lips pressed together and he signed.

Going back to the office? Don't overdo it.

I gave a quiet "mm," but couldn't stop the sadness from leaking through.

Chester rushed over and pulled me into his arms.

His hand settled on my flat, hollow stomach, as if grieving the baby we'd just lost.

Except none of it was real.

He'd watched me bleed out on that floor and done nothing. What grief could he possibly share with me?

All of thisthe arms, the tendernesswas just to keep me calm, keep me obedient, keep me running his company the way I always had.

That was the only way he could give Glenda his undivided attention.

I pried his fingers off me, turned around, and asked him:

"Your condition. When is it going to get better?"

His fingers flew over the screen, and the mechanical voice played from his phone.

Georgina, do you still look down on me for being mute?

That day you miscarriedI wasn't ignoring you. I had another episode.

If you think I'm just dead weight, I can let you go.

Every single time I brought up his illness, Chester fell back on the same guilt trip.

When his parents cornered me about when I'd produce an heir, he said nothing.

When the press accused me of marrying him for the Delgado fortune, he stayed silent.

When I was on the verge of losing our baby, he wouldn't even make one emergency call for me.

And afterward, Chester would always apologize, tell me he was just a mute, tell me he didn't deserve me.

Every single time, I'd shake my head through tears and promise I would never leave, that I'd stay by his side until the day he was cured.

The illness was fake. But every ounce of what I'd lost for him was real.

I let go of the last thread holding me to this marriage and said, "Then let's divorce."

Chester's pupils contracted sharply.

He was about to type a reply when the ringtone he'd assigned to that one special contact went off.

He hurried into the bedroom.

The second the call connected, he shut the door behind him without thinking.

I laughed at myself.

I'd take that as his answer.

I went to the company, submitted my resignation, and finished the handover while I was there.

On the way back to the hotel, Chester sent me a message reminding me not to forget the class reunion that evening.

I started typing a refusal, deleted it, hesitated, then sent back a single word: Okay.

Whatever was happening between Chester and me, there was no reason to take it out on old friends.

But when I stepped into the private dining room and saw Glenda Foxwho was supposed to still be overseasI wished I hadn't come.

She was glowing. Every inch of her polished by her years abroad.

And me? Years of running the company, night after sleepless night, and a miscarriage still fresh in my bodyI caught my reflection in the window and barely recognized the sallow face staring back.

Classmates crowded around her, falling over themselves to flatter, and right beside her sat my husband, Chester Delgado.

I looked at the scene and felt nothing. No sting, no twist in my chestjust a bone-deep certainty that it was finally, irreversibly over.

If Glenda Fox hadn't gone abroad back then, Chester would never have chosen me, the girl trailing behind him.

Twenty-odd years of childhood-sweetheart history. I was never going to compete with that.

Once I'd made peace with it, I could face this reunion with something close to calm.

I picked up a glass of wine and raised it toward Glenda.

"Welcome home."

She looked caught off guard, but smiled and lifted her glass in return.

Just as Glenda was about to drink, Chester stopped her.

"Glenda, you just got over a cold. Let me drink it for you."

The room went silent.

Glenda didn't refuse. She smiled and said okay.

After Chester finished the glass, she tilted her head and looked at me.

"Georgina, don't take it the wrong way. Chester's just looking out for me. He doesn't mean anything by it."

I laughed softly, then splashed the wine in my hand straight into Chester's face.

"Oh? So you can talk now."

Wine slid down his cheeks and dripped onto his expensive shirt, blooming into a dark stain.

Every eye in the room locked on me, bright with the ugly thrill of someone else's wreckage.

Chester stared at me in disbelief.

A long silence. Then he dropped his voice and snarled:

"Georgina, have you lost your mind?"

I smashed the empty glass on the floor. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? You're the one who's been faking it."

Chester swallowed hard, guilt written all over his face.

"You couldn't speak. Three years you couldn't speak. Not a single word. But you see Glenda Fox and suddenly you're cured?"

"Or is it just selective? Mute around me, perfectly fine around her?"

"Nothing to say to meever. But for Glenda, you can sing love songs and jump in to take her drink?"

My voice cracked before I could stop it.

Outsiders all envied ushusband and wife, heart and soul, building Delgado Group together. But this marriage had only ever gone one direction. I gave. He sat there.

I was the one who bowed and scraped. I was the one who sweet-talked investors and smoothed over deals. And none of it ever earned me a shred of real feeling from him.

All those years courting investors, I drank until I burned a hole through my stomach.

Chester sat next to me the whole time, never had to say a single word, and still walked away with signed contracts.

The color drained from his face, then flooded back wrong. He reached for my hand and I knocked it away.

"Georgina, let me explain..."

The words came out rushed, and for the first time I heard something I'd never heard in his voice before: panic.

I folded my arms and looked at him. "What is there left to explain between us?"

I looked past Chester, straight at Glenda.

"After all, you two are the ones who were made for each other."

Her smile stiffened, but she kept that lofty composure in place.

"Chester, you should be more patient with Georgina lately."

"She did just have a miscarriage. It's only natural she'd be emotional."

Glenda's voice was soft, measured, playing peacemaker.

Every word a knife aimed straight at my chest.

"You can drop the gentle act. Your Chester and I are getting divorced."

I grabbed my bag and was halfway out the door when I remembered one more thing.

"I'll send you the divorce papers later."

The cold wind hit my face at the street corner, and all I felt was relief.

Back at the hotel, I was about to send Chester the agreement I'd already drafted when I saw his latest social media post.

A woman shot from behind, face tilted up toward a sky full of fireworks.

Five words for a caption: *Welcome home, the Fox heiress.*

I tapped the photo open. The background was the amusement park I'd been asking to go to for years.

When Chester and I first got together, he'd actually been decent to me.

He remembered what I liked to eat, planned every date down to the last detail.

Except for taking me to the amusement park.

No matter how many times I brought it up, he refused. Said a place like that was a waste of time.

So Chester Delgado could be silly and indulgent after all.

He just wasn't willing to be that way for me.

His message came through right then.

Use this time to think about what you did. I already apologized to Glenda on your behalf.

The doorbell rang. A courier stood outside with a dessert box Chester had sent over.

Compared to the ten-tier cake he'd ordered to welcome Glenda home,

this little cake was exactly how much space I took up in Chester Delgado's life

Almost none.

Even the topping was mango. Glenda's favorite.

Chester knew I was allergic to mango. He'd always known. He just didn't care.

His idea of smoothing things over with me came wrapped in the same lazy indifference as everything else.

I threw the cake in the trash.

I'd just finished washing up and was about to sleep when frantic knocking erupted at the door.

Chester.

His face was caked with dust, his clothes streaked with blood.

The moment he saw me, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the elevator.

"Crash on the way taking Glenda home. The hospital's blood bank doesn't have enoughyou're the same type as her."

A life was on the line. I didn't argue.

Down in the garage, the front end of his car was crumpled almost beyond recognition, smoke still curling from the hood. I couldn't help frowning.

"Maybe we should call a cab."

"A cab? Glenda's in there dying and you want to wait for a cab!"

The words came out sharp and cold. Even Chester seemed to hear it.

He didn't apologize. He just opened the car door for me.

I sat in the passenger seat without a word.

Neither of us spoke the entire way to the hospital.

It wasn't until Chester got out that I noticed what was on his seat. A pair of lace underwear.

When I didn't move, his voice turned icy. "What is it now?"

"So what if you're mad at meGlenda was your college roommate. You're really going to sit here and watch her die?"

The urgency in his voice cracked something open. Everything I'd been holding down surged up at once.

I looked him in the eye. "You want my blood? Then tell me what caused the crash."

Chester, who had been so righteous a second ago, couldn't meet my gaze.

"I was going too fast. Lost control for a second and..."

"Or you two were having so much fun in the car you forgot you were still driving."

The words barely left my mouth before his hand cracked across my face.

My left cheek burned white-hot.

Chester looked almost startled by what he'd done.

His hand hung in the air, a flash of panic in his eyes, but it vanished just as fast, swallowed by irritation.

"This isn't the time for this. Glenda is lying in the emergency room!"

"And how is that my problem? Chester, what makes you think I'd willingly bleed for the homewrecker who ruined my marriage?"

My eyes dropped, cold and mocking, to the seat he'd just been sitting in.

The lace underwear sitting there, stained with something I didn't want to name, proving Chester Delgado's betrayal plain as day.

I got out and started to walk away. He seized my arm and dragged me into the hospital by force.

I fought him every step.

"Chester, I am not giving blood!"

I dug my nails into his arm. "Let go of me!"

But the difference in strength between us was too vast. Even as my nails bent back from the force of my grip, I couldn't break free.

Inside the hospital room, Chester grabbed IV tubing and bound my wrists so I couldn't run.

He pulled it tight. The sharp pain traveled along every nerve and settled somewhere deep in my chest.

A nurse wheeled in the blood-draw equipment, shock and hesitation plain on her face.

"Sir, this is..."

He cut her off instantly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Leave it. She's emotionalI restrained her so she wouldn't hurt herself. Draw the blood. The type's a match."

The nurse looked at the scene in front of her and couldn't stop herself from speaking up.

"But she only just had a miscarriage. Drawing blood now could do real damage to her body..."

Chester interrupted impatiently. "Enough. Glenda's situation is more urgent."

"My wife can be looked after properly later."

Those careless wordsan ice-tipped blade, slipped between my ribs and driven straight into the softest place in my chest.

I stopped struggling. I let them push the needle into the back of my hand.

Warm blood flowed through the clear tubing into the collection bag.

Even that wasn't fast enough for him. He snapped at the nurse to switch to a thicker needle.

He stared at the filling bag, not bothering to hide how badly he needed every last drop.

When the draw was finished, the nurse pressed a cotton swab over the puncture and spoke gently.

"Ma'am, please get plenty of rest. Avoid any strenuous activity for the time being..."

Before she could finish, Chester had already snatched the blood bag and was running toward the emergency room.

He didn't look back at me once.

I don't know how long passed before the light above the emergency room went off.

*The patient is out of danger.* Chester's rigid face finally crackeda slow exhale, a smile of sheer relief.

He thanked the doctor again and again, almost absurdly humble.

Only then did he remember I existed.

He reached out to touch me. I turned my head away.

This time he didn't get angry. If anything, he looked pleased with himself.

"Good thing you were here. Name itwhatever you want, it's yours."

I held out the printed divorce agreement. "I only want one thing. Your signature."

Right then, nurses wheeled Glenda out.

She called Chester's name, her voice thin and weak.

He didn't even look at what I'd handed him. He signed without a second's pause.

The moment he finished, he strode to Glenda's side and murmured something gentle.

"Don't be scared, Glenda. I'm here. I'll stay with you."

I clutched the signed agreement and disappeared down the corridor.

A month later, Glenda was discharged.

Only then did Chester realize I hadn't contacted him in a very long time.

He'd barely finished sending me a message when his secretary hurried in.

"President Delgadothe partners are pulling out. All of them. They're saying"