The Masked Husband's Betrayal
No lavish displays, no ornate decorations—only close family and friends gathered around in a small dining room.
The restaurant was bathed in warm yellow light, softly spilling over each face, making every smile feel especially tender.
Mark Lynn wore a well-fitted light gray suit, perfectly tailored to accentuate his upright posture.
His hair was neatly combed, the stray strands on his forehead lying flat, trading some of his usual casualness for a quiet seriousness.
When he held my hand, the warmth in his palm was just right—not cold, not hot—comforting my slightly anxious heart.
He gazed deeply into my eyes with focused sincerity, speaking each word clearly: "Willow Scott, from now on, I will hold up this home for you."
In that moment, a warm current surged from deep within my heart, full of emotion.
I thought this marriage, born from gratitude, would give my brother Caleb Scott and me a stable future.
For the past few years, I had lived alone with Caleb Scott. It was exhausting; I desperately needed a shoulder to lean on.
I gently nodded, my eyes brimming with tears, and with a slight squeeze of my fingertips, I clasped his hand again: "Thank you, Mark."
After the wedding, relatives and friends slowly began to leave.
Everyone left with smiles, offering blessings. Some patted Mark Lynn's shoulder, urging him to treat me well; others held my hand, saying I had finally found a good home.
Mark and I tidied up the clutter on the table, placed the small gifts from our relatives and friends into bags, and together returned to our little home.
It's a two-bedroom apartment in a quiet neighborhood within the city.
We chose the decor style together—light-colored furniture and simple decorative paintings. Though minimal, warmth radiates from every corner.
On the living room balcony, a few pots of green plants stand, their leaves lush and vibrant, bringing life to the room.
I went to tidy Caleb Scott's room first.
The room isn't big, but I kept it clean and tidy.
I spread the newly bought light blue bedsheet on the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles, then placed his familiar little teddy bear beside the pillow — it was a gift I gave Caleb when he was a child, and he has carried it with him all these years.
Caleb was shy and pure-hearted. Ever since the accident three years ago, his mental capacity has regressed to that of a five-year-old, making him as dependent on care as a child.
"Caleb will stay with us tonight, and tomorrow we'll take him back to his own room." After tidying the bed, I walked to the living room and spoke to Mark Lynn.
Mark Lynn was placing our wedding photo on the TV cabinet. When he heard me speak, he put down the frame, came over, and gently hugged me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. His voice was as soft as a feather: "Alright, I'll do as you say.""Willow, from now on we are one family. I will take good care of you and Caleb."
I leaned into his embrace, feeling his warmth, my heart swelling with hope for the future.
Sunlight streamed in from the balcony, bathing us. In that moment, I truly believed happiness had come to stay.
But the day after the wedding, a sudden phone call shattered the quiet.
It was from the research institute. The person in charge sounded urgent, saying there was an emergency task and that I had to leave immediately for the neighboring city to take part in a critical data calibration—it would last at least half a month.
I took the call while I was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for Caleb Scott.
Millet porridge simmered softly in the pot, its scent filling the little kitchen.
Caleb sat at the dining table, quietly playing with a small blue toy train, occasionally glancing up at me with clear, trusting eyes.
"What's wrong, Willow?" Mark Lynn had just finished washing up when he saw me standing at the kitchen doorway, my face troubled. He came over with concern in his voice.
I hung up the phone and told him what had been said, a hint of worry in my tone: "I have to be away for half a month. Caleb..." I just couldn't bear the thought of leaving Caleb Scott alone.
Mark didn't wait for me to finish before interrupting, his voice steady and reassuring: "Don't worry about work. Leave Caleb to me.""I'll take good care of him. When you come back, I promise you'll see him well and healthy."
Still feeling uneasy, I took Mark's hand and kept reminding him, "Caleb is shy and innocent. Watch him closely. Don't let him wander off alone." Also, he needs to take his medicine on time every day—one pill after breakfast and one before bed. I've put the medicine in the living room drawer. Please don't forget.
I also wanted to tell him about the dishes Caleb likes and his daily little habits, afraid I might leave out even the smallest detail.
Mark listened patiently, nodding from time to time. When I finished speaking, he gently embraced me, his voice tender enough to squeeze out water: "Willow, I've remembered everything. You can focus on your work with peace of mind. I will take care of Caleb as if he were my own brother."
I gazed into his sincere eyes, and the worries in my heart gradually melted away, finally allowing me to ease.
That afternoon, I hurriedly packed my bags, carrying nothing but a change of clothes and some snacks I had prepared for Caleb Scott.
Caleb tugged at the hem of my clothes, looking up with a small face full of reluctance: "Older sister, when will you come back?"
I knelt down and gently touched his soft hair, trying to make my smile appear lighthearted. "Caleb, be good. I will be back in half a month. These fifteen days, you must listen to Mark, eat well, and take your medicine on time, okay?"
Caleb nodded, his small hand clutching tightly at the edge of my clothes, and he whispered, "Older sister, I will miss you."
A sharp ache stirred in my heart, my nose stinging with emotion. I reached out to hug him. "I will miss you too."
Mark Lynn helped me carry my luggage and saw me to the door.
"Be careful on the road. Call me when you arrive to let me know you're safe." He looked at me, his eyes full of concern and gentle reminders.
I nodded, then turned and walked away.
Walking down the hallway, I glanced back once more and saw Caleb leaning against the doorframe watching me. Mark stood beside him, waving at me.
I never would have imagined that Mark Lynn's gentle promise would, a week later, become the sharpest blade piercing my heart.
This mission went smoother than I had expected.
What was supposed to take half a month for data calibration, our team finished a week early by working overtime.
I didn't tell Mark Lynn ahead of time; I wanted to surprise him and Caleb Scott—I pictured Caleb rushing toward me when he saw me, and Mark's face filled with surprise at my early return, my heart brimming with eager anticipation.
I bought a ticket for the return trip immediately and set off that very afternoon.
On the train, I watched the endless scenery slipping past the window, my mind filled with Caleb Scott's smiling face.
At the station, I had even bought his favorite strawberry-flavored cake, packed in a thermos box, picturing the joy on his face when he saw it.
When the train arrived, I took a taxi straight home.
The closer I got to our neighborhood, the faster my heart raced.
Just as I reached the door, before I could even take out the key, I heard a sharp burst of laughter from the yard, followed by Caleb Scott's tear-choked sobbing.
That sound was soft, yet like a needle, it pierced my heart in an instant.
My heart clenched suddenly, my steps faltered, and it felt as if the blood in my entire body had frozen.
"Hurry up and crawl over, and I'll give you something to eat!" A woman's voice echoed, sharp and cutting.
I recognized it immediately—it was Stacy Scott, Mark Lynn's childhood "first love."
Just a few days ago, when I was packing, she had pretended to help at my home, smiling as she promised to look after Caleb Scott. Yet now, she spoke to Caleb in this tone.
"Yeah, bark twice like a dog. This is imported dog food—something others can only dream of having." Then Mark Lynn's voice came through, filled with a mockery and cruelty I had never heard before, completely stripping away his usual gentleness.
My heart instantly plummeted to the deepest abyss, as if crushed beneath a massive stone, making it hard to breathe.
Caleb Scott was terrified of dogs—so much that the sound of barking sent him trembling inside the wardrobe. How could they... Driven purely by instinct, I burst through the door and rushed in, but the scene before me froze all the blood in my veins.
Caleb crouched in the corner of the yard, his body pressed closely against the wall, like a frightened little animal.
His once pristine white shirt was now stained with dust and unidentifiable grime, filthy and tattered, with a hole worn through one corner.
What broke my heart the most was the thick dog leash wrapped tightly around his neck, the chain digging deep into his flushed skin, the blood beads caused by friction had dried into scabs, a sight both shocking and painful.
Stacy Scott held the other end of the dog leash, pulling it from side to side as if playing with a pet.
Caleb Scott staggered, swaying unsteadily, terror etched across his face. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but fear silenced him; he only whimpered softly.
Mark held an opened bag of dog food, scattering it onto the ground in front of Caleb.
The colorful dog food spilled across the floor, a stark contrast to Caleb's disheveled state—both jarring and repulsive.
"Caleb!" I screamed as I rushed forward, my voice shaking with anger and pain, barely audible.
Caleb saw me, his eyes instantly brightening, as if he'd glimpsed a savior in the darkness.
He struggled to lunge toward me, but Stacy yanked hard on the dog leash, and he crashed heavily onto the ground.
With a loud "bang," Caleb Scott fell onto the concrete floor, letting out a muffled groan.
I watched him knit his brow in pain; my heart twisted as if cut by a knife, the anguish almost stealing my breath away.
Mark Lynn turned at the sound, seeing me standing in the doorway. The smile on his face hadn't faded; instead, he casually slipped his arm around Stacy Scott's waist and raised an eyebrow flirtatiously, "Willow? Back so soon? Didn't you say you'd be away for a few more days?"
His tone was as light as if he were talking about the weather, as if the cruel scene just moments before was nothing but a trivial game, completely oblivious to how far he had crossed the line.
"Are you crazy?" I rushed forward and pulled Caleb tightly into my arms.
Caleb trembled all over, his small hands clutching the hem of my clothes tightly, whispering repeatedly, "Older sister, scared, dog..." in a weak and pitiful voice.
I raised my head and stared at Mark Lynn, my eyes filled with anger and disbelief: "You promised me you would take good care of him! How could you treat him this way?" My voice was hoarse with emotion, each word trembling.
Stacy leaned against Mark Lynn, smiling provocatively, her tone full of challenge: "Willow, don't blame Mark." I've just been feeling a bit down lately. Caleb is so adorable—what's wrong with me playing with him a little? Besides, even though he's silly, his imitation of a dog's bark is pretty good. These past few days, he hasn't left a single crumb of the dog food uneaten. As she spoke, she reached out and patted Mark Lynn's chest, her gesture intimate.
"Dog food?" I suddenly looked up at Mark Lynn, my heart clenched by an icy grip, the pain so sharp I could barely breathe. "Mark Lynn, is what she said true? Did you really make Caleb eat dog food?" I can't believe that the man who promised at our wedding to take care of us would do something like this.
The gentleness on Mark Lynn's face vanished completely, replaced by a coldness almost cruel.
He looked at me, his voice flat as if speaking about something trivial: "He's just a fool. It's his luck to have made Stacy happy. Willow, don't make such a fuss.""Stacy's depression has flared up on and off these past few years. Finally, there's something that makes her smile; you shouldn't ruin it."
"Good fortune?" I looked at the dog leash around Caleb Scott's neck, then at the crumbs of dog food clinging to the corner of his mouth. Tears sprang instantly, blurring my vision. "He is my brother—the hero who ran into the fire to save your mother three years ago! Is this how you treat your lifesaver?" My voice grew louder and louder, the anger and grievance long buried inside me breaking through uncontrollably.
I remembered the tea house fire three years ago, and the fire within me flared even hotter. I shouted at Mark Lynn, "Do you forget the tea house fire three years ago? At that time, Caleb was still the captain of the fire brigade. He rushed into the thick smoke to save people, and when he came out carrying your mother, a falling beam struck the back of his head! The doctor said his brain was damaged, his intellect regressed to that of a five-year-old, and he could never be a firefighter again! Your mother held my hand, crying, and said, 'From now on, our family is your family.' And that was when you began pursuing me, promising to take care of us siblings for life. Have you forgotten all those words?"
Mark Lynn frowned impatiently, as if listening to some irrelevant nonsense.
He cut me off, his voice icy cold like a midwinter wind: "Why dredge up the past? Even without Caleb, my mother would have been rescued by someone else. Willow Scott, don't use this to morally blackmail me. If it weren't for him, how could you have pestered me for so long? If it weren't for you, Stacy and I would have been together long ago, and her depression wouldn't have relapsed."
His words struck me like a heavy hammer, shattering all my hopes and trust to dust.
All these years, my dependence and trust in him were nothing but "entanglement" in his eyes. It turns out that the favor my brother earned with his health and future meant nothing to him.
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