For Her Sake, He Married Me

Right after returning from a business trip, Cecelia Moore held her ultrasound report as she hurried to the private suite at the club. She was eager to surprise her husband, Francis Rivera.

Just as she was about to open the door, she caught a few words drifting through the crack that stopped her cold.

"…So, Fran, did you really marry Cecelia Moore just to protect Melody Green?"

In that instant, every drop of blood in Cecelia's body seemed to freeze—she couldn't move.

Francis Rivera's voice was colder and more certain than Cecelia Moore had ever heard before.

"Yeah. During the car crash, Cecelia's father shielded her but died instantly, while she suffered serious injuries.

"It was fortunate that I altered the evidence and lied in court, thereby protecting Melody. Otherwise, her future as a celebrity would have been ruined by the drunk driving charge.

"The Moore family is down to just Cecelia. She's fully devoted to me. If I make her my wife and keep her under my nose, I can guarantee that she won't have her eyes on Melody anymore."

Someone hailed him and said, "Smart! That's really smart! But aren't you worried Cecelia might find out?"

Francis let out a low chuckle. "Her? She just needs to play her part as my wife and enjoy the easy life I give her. As for Melody… I can give her everything except the title of Mrs. Rivera. So, keep your mouth shut. Don't go running your mouth about this in front of Cecelia."

Each word felt like barbed wire, digging into Cecelia's body and ripping her apart. She almost blacked out and barely stayed upright by leaning against the icy wall.

The ultrasound report she held, which was once filled with happiness, was now crumpled in her trembling hands.

At her father's funeral, Francis had hugged her tight and said in a hoarse voice, "Celia, from now on, I'm your family."

When he proposed to her on one knee, fireworks lighting up the sky, he looked at her like she was his whole world. "Celia, I promise I'll make the driver who hurt your father pay. I'll win the case."

Late at night, he came home cold and tired, but always pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on her head. "Celia, I missed you. Only when I'm holding you do I feel alive again."

All that tenderness. All those promises. The vow that she was the only one in his life…

The place she thought was her sanctuary was actually the bastion that sheltered the murderer.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her pocket.

The screen flashed with the word "hubby". It was like a thorn in her eye.

Cecelia took a deep breath and rushed to the soundproof stairwell, her fingers shaking as she answered.

"Celia? Where are you? I just finished a call about an international acquisition. I'm swamped and won't be home for a few days as I need to prepare for the case. Remember to eat on time. Don't wait for me, okay?" Francis's voice was gentle and full of concern, just like always.

However, in the background, she could faintly hear the clinking of glasses.

Cecelia bit down hard on her lip. The taste of blood filled her mouth, but she forced herself to sound natural. "Okay… Sure."

"Good girl." Francis sounded a bit more relaxed.

"When this case is over, I'll take you to the auction. They finally have some news about that glazed pottery from the Renaissance era you've talked so often about. And don't forget, the nights are quite cool now. Your hands and feet get cold quickly, too. Remember to use the electric blanket. Don't catch a chill."

He was thoughtful, as always.

Then, she heard someone teasing in the background, "Hey, Fran! Checking in with your wife again? That's a model husband right there…"

Francis's voice turned stern. "Shut it. Celia's shy, so don't talk nonsense in front of her."

But when he spoke to her again, he slipped right back into his gentle tone. "Celia, go to bed early. Love you."

The line went dead, leaving only the empty sound of the dial tone.