Hello My Wife

"Take a deep breath, Mrs. Parker."

The nurse's voice softly hummed through the sterile corridors of New York Presbyterian Hospital. Avery Francis leaned against the cold wall, her fingertips digging into the cast. His vision was blurred. For the past week, a persistent dizziness had plagued her, her stomach churning with nausea.

She did not tell her husband Julian. Parker Industries' quarterly reports have already left him overwhelmed, and she doesn't want him to worry about something that might just be stress or the flu. So she sneaked out of her villa in the Upper East Side alone and quietly went to the neurology department for a check-up.

Another wave of dizziness hit, this time even fiercer. The polished ground seemed to be tilting. She staggered a step, her palm flat on the door to steady herself. Room 302, a VIP suite.

The door wasn't fully closed, leaving a gap. A voice drifted out from within—a voice she knew better than she was. Julian.

Her heart tightened slightly, a little surprised. What is he doing here? Colleague? Client? A sincere and warm smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. She could surprise him.

She raised her hand to push the door open, but was stopped by another voice. That voice was sweet, carrying the softness unique to femininity, mixed with a familiar, nauseating vulnerability. Stella Francis—her cousin.

"Julian, the doctor said my body still has a rejection reaction." Stella whimpered. "I need better medicine, imported ...... For me, you had to marry that disgusting woman. You must be very sad. ”

The air in Avely's lungs instantly froze. She froze in place, her hands dangling just inches from the door. Disgusting women?

Julian's response was a low roar, ugly and vicious—one she had never, never heard before. "Don't mention her name. Every day, looking at her face and pretending to care made me feel sick. ”

The world tilted again, but this time not because of dizziness—it was the floor beneath your feet that was collapsing. Avery covered her mouth with her hand, trying to block the gasp that was about to tear from her throat. She pressed her ear against the door crack, holding her breath.

"If it weren't for making her willingly 'donate' her mother's kidney, I wouldn't have touched her at all." He continued, each word like a heavy hammer striking her head.

Her mind went blank, her ears buzzing. Her mother's kidney? Her mother died from a rare genetic disease—Julian told her this, and the death certificate wrote it that way.

"But that kidney belongs to Aivory's mother." Stella's voice was as thin as a thread, full of worry. "What if she finds out?"

A cold and cruel laugh echoed through the room—Julian's laughter. "She won't. That woman is a fool. She loves me so much that even if I ask her to sign her own death warrant, she will comply. I forged my signature on that old witch's donation form, flawlessly. ”

Aively's nails dug deep into her palms, the intense pain making her desperately hold onto reality. The pain was real. All of this is true.

Images flashed through her mind—her mother was frail and weak on her deathbed; Julian handled all the procedures with such thoughtfulness and concern; He hurriedly completed the cremation, claiming it was in accordance with hospital regulations; He handled all the documents, wearing a mask of deep sorrow and deep affection.

It's all a performance. Three years of marriage, three years of "unwavering love"—a lie.

A wave of intense nausea surged up his throat. This wasn't dizziness—it was the truth poisoning her whole body.