The Perfect Husband

For three years, everyone thought I had married the perfect man.

Victor Wei remembered every anniversary.

Not just wedding anniversaries.

The day we first met.

The day he first cooked for me.

The day I moved into his apartment.

The day he got his first investment offer.

The day he said he wanted to build a future with me.

Thirteen little anniversaries every year.

I forgot half of them.

He never did.

When I stayed late at work, he brought dessert home. When rain fell, he drove to pick me up. When my period pain got bad, he made brown sugar ginger tea and rubbed my lower abdomen until I fell asleep.

People called us a model couple.

I believed them.

I was a technical executive secretary at a mid-sized cybersecurity firm. My health had never been good, so outside of work, I did not have much energy for domestic life.

Victor said he did not mind.

“Just come home to me,” he used to say. “That’s enough.”

His background was ordinary, but with help from my father and older brother, his start-up secured a major round of funding last year. In a bad market, WeiTech climbed instead of dying.

Victor became even more affectionate after that.

Or perhaps he became better at acting.

We had no children of our own.

My brother Marcus was too busy running Chen Capital, so his youngest son, Theo, came to stay with us.

Theo was two years old, soft-cheeked, bright-eyed, and round as a steamed bun.

He called Victor Daddy.

Victor never corrected him.

Every time he saw Theo, he would hold the boy, then come cling to me afterward.

“Let’s have our own,” he would whisper.

A year ago, we began preparing to buy a school district apartment for our future child.

I handed Victor all my savings.

I thought we were building a family.

On our wedding anniversary, a video appeared in my company work group.

A rumor.

A scandal.

A carefully edited clip suggesting I had cheated during marriage.

By noon, half the office had seen it.

By evening, Victor stormed home with red eyes and demanded divorce.

“You humiliated me,” he shouted. “You leave with nothing.”

Leave with nothing.

Only then did I realize how neatly the trap had been laid.

The school district apartment?

Registered under his parents’ names.

My savings?

Moved through family accounts.

The public rumor?

Prepared in advance.

And Victor?

He already had another woman.

And a child.

His parents brought the boy to our home two days later.

The child was three, a little older than Theo, with Victor’s eyes.

Victor’s father sat across from me and cleared his throat.

“This is Victor’s son.”

His mother rushed to soften the blow.

“Lydia, your health is poor. You and Victor have been married three years without a child. We were worried. Now this is good. Besides Theo, there is also Victor’s own bloodline.”

Victor’s own bloodline.

I sat on the sofa, hands folded, and looked at the child.

I understood everything.

The money.

The apartment.

The sudden divorce.

The video.

They had prepared a home for Victor’s mistress and son using my savings.

When Victor came home, he picked up the little boy first.

Not Theo.

This child.

Then he looked at me as if the mask was no longer worth wearing.

“Since you know, I won’t hide it.”

His voice was cold.

“After I divorce you, I’ll marry Hana.”

Hana Mori.

A Japanese hostess from a private club.

I knew of her.

I had known enough to stop letting Victor touch me long ago.

Victor continued, “My only son is the one in my arms.”

Something inside me went quiet.

Then I laughed.

Loudly.

Victor frowned.

“What are you laughing at?”

“At you.”

His face darkened.

“If you were truly rich, Victor, why did you need my money to buy a house for your mistress’s son?”

His parents’ faces changed.

Victor’s jaw tightened.

I stood.

“If you want divorce, fine.”

I grabbed his collar and pulled him close.

“But I will make sure you leave with nothing.”

Victor stared at me.

For the first time in three years, the perfect husband looked afraid.

Good.

He should be.

Because I had finally stopped loving him.