Three Years of Lies

The glow of the phone screen cut through the dim, suffocating silence of the Radcliff villa's entryway. Maya Radcliff stood frozen near the grand foyer, her thumb hovering over a webpage displaying limited-edition luxury watches. She had spent the last three hours agonizing over the perfect third-anniversary gift for her husband, Desmond Radcliff. She wanted something that would finally make him smile, something that might thaw the thick layer of frost that had settled over their marriage since day one. Instead, her twin sister delivered a different kind of milestone, bringing her search to a brutal and devastating halt.

A relentless barrage of images flooded her screen, illuminating the dark corridor with a harsh, glaring light. Ping. Ping. Ping. The notifications hit her phone like rapid gunfire.

Maya’s breath caught sharply in her throat as the color drained from her face. In every single photograph, Desmond held Audrey Monroe. They took center stage in a cruel display of affection. They were intertwined on a plush velvet sofa, wrapped in tangled silk sheets, and sharing lingering kisses against floor-to-ceiling windows. But the physical intimacy was not the sharpest knife twisting in Maya's heart. It was Desmond’s eyes.

In their three years of marriage, Desmond had never offered Maya anything warmer than polite indifference. Yet, in these photos, he gazed down at Audrey with a raw, overwhelming, vulnerable tenderness. It was a soft, unguarded expression Maya had prayed to see just once. He was looking at her twin sister as if she were the only woman left on earth.

A text message bubbled up beneath the images, thick with Audrey’s vicious and mocking venom.

"Familiar, isn't it? This house is one of your wedding gifts! Don't you recognize it?"

Maya swayed on her feet, pressing a cold, shaking hand against her temple as scenes from the photos began to faintly stir in her memory. She recognized the winding staircase, the imported marble floors, the arched doorways. It was the lavish villa Desmond’s grandmother had gifted them. Desmond had barred Maya from setting foot inside it since the morning after their wedding night.

"It seems that Desmond has never again let you set foot in this place, save for your wedding night," the next message read. "Because this house was prepared for me. If it weren't for his grandma's interference on the day you two got married, you would never have had the chance to come over!"

Each word from Audrey felt like a piercing thorn, deeply embedding itself in Maya's chest. Her hands shook so hard the phone nearly slipped from her grasp. She typed out a fractured, desperate response. "Audrey, please stop sending me these photos. Whatever happened between you and Desmond is already in the past."

The reply was instantaneous, mocking her pathetic naivety.

"Huh. Is that what you believe?"

"I've been back from abroad for two months now. Desmond has never come home during this period, has he? Well, during his absence, he would come to this house to meet me every day after work. We've been fucking in the exact same house that was supposed to be your cherished wedding gift."

Then came the killing blow, quoting Desmond’s most intimate betrayals.

"Do you know how he described you when we were sleeping together? 'Like a dead body,' he said."

"How could you be such a failure? If I were you, I would already kill myself. You'd better seize the opportunity to pack your bags and leave him while your old times still matter to him. Otherwise, you'll only thoroughly embarrass yourself any further!"

Maya dropped the phone. It clattered harshly against the hardwood floor. The screen stayed lit, displaying the cruel, mocking words. A hollow numbness spread through her chest, freezing her blood, hollowing out her ribs. Stripped of her dignity, she sank to the floor right by the front door, pulling her knees to her chest, and waited in silence in the dark.

Hours bled into one another. The sharp snap of the fingerprint lock finally shattered the silence.

The heavy mahogany door swung open. Desmond paused on the threshold, bringing the crisp chill of the night air inside. The moment his dark eyes landed on Maya huddled on the floor in the entrance, his handsome features tightened into a familiar mask of deep-seated impatience.

"Why are you sitting here?" he asked, his tone carrying a sharp edge of annoyance.

Maya looked up, taking in the sight of the man who still commanded her heart. She hoped to find a trace of affection in his eyes, desperate for a flicker of guilt. There was nothing. Just cold displeasure. Discovering his ability to gaze so tenderly at another woman felt like a fresh, painful cut.

Slowly, ignoring the ache in her stiff legs, Maya rose to her feet. Her voice was trembling but resolute as she confronted him head-on.

"Why did you hide the news of Audrey's return from me?" she asked.

Desmond seemed surprised, his jaw flexing, but the next second he replied indifferently. "There's no need to let you know. You always dislike Audrey."

A bitter, jagged laugh escaped Maya’s lips. Was it really unnecessary, or was he terrified she would discover the affair between him and her sister?

She closed her eyes, saying word by word, "Do you genuinely consider me your wife? If so, you wouldn't be fooling around with Audrey in our house!"

The color instantly drained from Desmond’s face in shock. He froze. "How did you know?"

Maya’s breaking composure gave way to a shout, echoing off the high ceilings. "How did I know? You should ask Audrey! I also want to know how a mistress like her has the sheer audacity to send a wife such disgusting, intimate pictures to disgust me!"

"Maya!" Desmond barked.

Instead of apologizing, his gaze turned icy and hostile as he blindly rushed to defend her sister. He stepped toward her, his glare piercing through her heart like arrows. "Watch your mouth. My relationship with Audrey isn't as unbearable as you think. She is merely staying temporarily, and there is no way she would send you any pictures!"

Maya stared at him, wounded by his piercing gaze. Her eyes turned red instantly. "Staying temporarily? Do you think I'm a fool? And you're saying she couldn't possibly send me pictures, so are you accusing me of intentionally smearing her?"

"Maybe you wouldn't smear anyone else, but you've never liked Audrey," Desmond retorted, his voice dripping with disdain. "You've done similar things out of petty, old spite before."

Maya pressed her lips together, suddenly finding herself absurd. Desmond hadn't even grasped the gravity of the situation, hadn't bothered to ask what the pictures contained, yet his first instinct was to shield Audrey and accuse his own wife. No wonder Audrey dared to send her those photos. She knew that Desmond would instinctively take her side over his own wife.

Realizing this, a complete, crushing exhaustion settled into her bones. Defeated, Maya closed her eyes. "Say whatever you want. If you believe I smeared her, so be it."

A flash of anger crossed Desmond’s eyes. "Audrey doesn't owe you anything. Don't ever say such words again!"

Maya chuckled helplessly. She looked at him, her voice dropping to a soft whisper. "Desmond, in these three years of marriage, have you ever liked me, even a bit?"

Silence stretched between them. Desmond’s icy gaze landed on her pale face. His response was a cold, calculated evasion. "Since I married you, I'll take care of you for a lifetime."

His non-answer meant he had never liked her at all. The words turned her fragile heart into pure ash. She had persisted for three years, thinking her sincere feelings would eventually win his love. But in the end, her affection never got any response.

Avoiding his gaze to hide her pooling tears, she looked aside and uttered the final, irrevocable words. "Let's get a divorce."

Desmond frowned, dismissing her profound pain as a mere tantrum. "Maya, don't be unreasonable," he snapped.

She wiped away tears and looked at him with a serious expression. "I'm not being unreasonable. My lawyer will prepare a divorce agreement, and I won't take a single dime of your money."

Desmond’s expression turned grim, his aura instantly becoming gloomy. Refusing to engage in a conversation, he coldly declared, "Maya, I'm a busy man. I don't have time to argue with you. I'll pretend I didn't hear what you said today. We will talk when you calm down."

With that, Desmond walked out without a single moment of hesitation. He fully expected his usual cold-shoulder tactic to force her into submission as it always had.

But Maya was finally awake to the reality of her marriage.

Early the very next morning, Maya met with her lawyer. Morning light spilled across the long mahogany dining table, illuminating the stark white pages of the drafted divorce agreement.

"Mrs. Radcliff," the attorney said, explicitly reminding her as he pushed the papers forward. "The Radcliff Group empire is currently valued at several hundred billion dollars. You've been with Mr. Radcliff for three years. Even if you easily claim hundreds of millions of dollars from him, it wouldn't be too much."

Maya offered a bitter smile. "No need. I just want a clean break."

Seeing Maya's firm determination, the lawyer refrained from further financial advice and handed over the documents.

Flipping to the last page, Maya didn't hesitate. She decisively signed her name with swift strokes. Setting the pen down, she removed her diamond wedding ring and placed it squarely on top of the divorce papers. The metal clinked softly against the desk.

She stood up and went upstairs. Her walk-in closet was lined with designer dresses and luxury handbags, all purchased with Desmond's money. Maya intentionally left behind every single item Desmond had ever given her. She packed only a single, weathered suitcase with a few basic clothes and essential toiletries.

Dragging the luggage downstairs, Maya paused at the foyer. She cast one final glance at the luxurious villa she had lived in for three years, her eyes filled with deadened indifference. If she tried hard to win over something that didn't belong to her, she could only end up swallowing her bitterness.

It took her three years to understand this truth, but fortunately, it wasn't too late.

Maya turned around and walked out of the luxurious villa for the absolute last time.

Waiting for her at the entrance was a striking red Lamborghini. The autumn breeze bit at her cheeks as she headed down the stone path. The driver honked the horn. After silently securing her luggage in the back, Maya opened the passenger door and slipped into the seat.

In the driver's seat sat her best friend, Sienna Mercer, exuding confidence with her alluring figure and smooth skin.

Sienna rested one hand on the steering wheel. She reached up and pushed down her oversized, dark sunglasses, raising an inquisitive eyebrow as she studied Maya’s simple clothes and resolute face. She asked a final question.

"Have you really made up your mind?"