After My Husband Cheated, I Took Back My Voice

As I stepped out of the dressing room, I realized I had left my script behind. Turning back to retrieve it, I passed Vanessa's dressing room.

Through the slightly open door, I overheard hushed voices from inside.

"Haven't I told you not to take what's not yours? Why won't you listen?" Fletcher's voice was stern.

"But I want to wear a designer dress too," Vanessa pouted. "Don’t I look better in it than she does?"

Vanessa was in my gown, tangled up with Fletcher.

"You look great... but you're not listening, so you need to learn a lesson."

Vanessa whimpered, her eyes filling with tears.

"Just bear with it! Don't get the dress dirty, or Gabrielle will notice!"

Quietly, I retrieved my script and headed to the studio to rehearse. Just as I stepped on stage, my phone buzzed with a stream of unfamiliar text messages, each accompanied by intimate and suggestive photos.

"Gabrielle Ortiz, your husband is so passionate with me; he says he could die in my arms!"

"How does a mute, boring old woman like you dare to be with him?"

I stood frozen, the onslaught of messages tormenting me. In my daze, I didn't hear the crew calling out to me.

Suddenly, I stumbled, falling straight into the malfunctioning lift below. Before losing consciousness entirely, I glimpsed a man running toward me.

"Gabrielle..."

When I awoke, I was in the hospital, a sharp pain coursing through my right hand. Fletcher was by my bedside, eyes red, as he wrapped me in a tight embrace, relieved beyond measure.

"Gabrielle, you're finally awake; you scared me to death!"

I gently pulled away from his grasp, and he looked at me cautiously.

"Gabrielle, you've been so distracted during rehearsals recently. Is it the pressure? Maybe we should step back from hosting?"

I didn't respond, only lowered my gaze to my bandaged hand. Fletcher noticed my despondency, a flicker of panic crossing his eyes.

"The doctor said you have a fractured finger, and you might not be able to host the Christmas Eve show..."

He looked at me with concern. "But it's okay, there will be plenty more opportunities."

I managed a bitter smile, wondering if this was fate's message. Perhaps it was for the best I couldn’t host since I was planning to leave anyway.

As we spoke, Vanessa suddenly barged in, casting a smug glance my way.

"Thanks for letting me wear this dress, Gabrielle. It fits perfectly!" She twirled around, showing off like a victorious swan.

Fletcher's expression turned frosty as he glanced between us, his nervousness obvious.

"Gabrielle, Vanessa is, after all, the face of our network..."

I interrupted him, sipping my coffee, "It's fine, let her have it."

Relieved, Fletcher visibly relaxed. After taking me home, he rushed back to the station to handle the fallout from the incident.

I scanned the living room of the house I had called home for the past six years, my eyes resting on the display cabinet. It housed photos of Fletcher and me, taken after every broadcast.

Before leaving, I resolved to pack up all my belongings. Just then, a message notification from the work group chat appeared. It was about the annual gift exchange before the Christmas Eve show.

By unfortunate luck, I had drawn Vanessa for the exchange.

"Gabrielle, I've prepared a big surprise for you—you're going to love it!" Vanessa's playful and charming message taunted me.

Little did anyone know, she was the mistress, and my husband was cheating on me with her.

Ironically, I had prepared a grand surprise for both her and Fletcher as well.