Leave No Trace of Me

Looking at Maxwell's hypocritical smile, I felt an icy dread crawl up my spine. I pointed at Vivian.

[She looks so young. Does she even have any experience? Can she handle a newborn? More importantly, does she know how to sign?]

Maxwell's smile faltered. I waved a dismissive hand.

[Never mind. I trust your judgment. Besides, she's only here for the baby. She doesn't need to communicate with me.]

The tension in his shoulders eased. He shot Vivian a look. Vivian pouted sullenly but still obediently pushed the crib into the guest room.

For the next few hours, Maxwell massaged my shoulders, drew me a warm bath, and tucked me into bed, playing the part of the perfect, doting husband.

But late that night, sickening moans echoed through the silent villa.

My eyes snapped open, my senses preternaturally sharp in the darkness. I strained to listen, tracing the sounds to the guest room next door.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, started a recording, and slipped out of my room.

The door was ajar, a sliver of dim light bleeding into the hall. I saw two bodies tangled on the bed. I gripped my phone, swallowing back the bile that rose in my throat.

Maxwell's hand slid up Vivian's waist, his eyes glazed with lust. He bit her shoulder and muttered, "My sweet Vivian. It's only been two months since you gave birth, and your body feels even better than before. Not like Harper. She's got this roll of fat on her stomach that practically spills over."

The rip of fabric, the slick sound of kisses, and Vivian's breathy moans filled the room. Maxwell didn't bother to lower his voice, his words dripping with contempt as he chuckled.

"You know, Vivian? Ever since Harper went deaf, she just lies there in bed like a corpse. Sometimes she makes these strange little noises, and I just want to clamp a hand over her mouth. But you... baby, let me hear you scream for me."

My hand holding the phone went slack. My mind reeled, pulling me back through time.

Maxwell and I had grown up together. Everyone said we were a match made in heaven.

Three years ago, when I learned I was going deaf, Maxwell cried harder than I did. Consumed by shame and fear, I asked him if he could ever accept a disabled wife. He just held my hand tighter, his gaze unwavering.

"Harper, I'm only afraid that you'll push me away."

In just a few days, he had learned sign language. He patiently taught me every gesture, even as I broke down, screaming at him and smashing every vase in the house.

The ashtray I hurled at him cut his forehead. He just wiped the blood from his brow, pulled me into his arms, and traced words into my palm.

[Harper, no matter what, I will never leave you.]

I could still remember the sincerity in his eyes as if it were yesterday.

A sharp cry from the baby snapped me back to the present. Lily was awake. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay hidden. It wasn't the baby's fault.

Then I heard Vivian, the child's own mother, tugging on Maxwell's arm in a flirtatious whine. Her voice was sickly sweet.

"Lily's fine. She'll cry herself back to sleep. Maxwell, pay attention to me. Isn't having me enough?"

Maxwell hesitated, but lust quickly won out over paternal duty. His hands found her waist again.

"Mmm, we have to be quick. I need to get back—"

Vivian silenced him with a kiss. I stopped the recording and slipped back to my room.

Through the wall, I heard Maxwell's low chuckle.

"Vivian, how did you even come up with this? Pretending to be the nanny... living right under her nose? God, this is thrilling."

An hour later, the door creaked open. Maxwell tiptoed inside.

He gently tucked the covers around me and placed a soft kiss on my forehead.

"I love you, Harper."

What a fucking joke.