Chapter 21: Shattered Silence

The kettle whistled.

I barely heard it. My eyes were glued to the glow of my phone screen, my stomach knotting tighter with every passing second.

At first, I thought it was a cruel coincidence. A gossip blog headline flashing across my feed:

“Cold Wife? Sources Say Gabriel Grayson’s Spouse Neglects Family While Playing Homemaker.”

My thumb scrolled lower, faster. Photos. Grainy, zoomed-in, but unmistakable—me at the grocery store, my face tight with exhaustion. Me at Lily’s school event, looking down at my phone during a speech.

And then—my heart dropped—an audio clip.

“…you never think, do you? Always so careless—”

My voice. Cropped, harsh, jagged, twisted.

The caption below screamed:

“Exclusive: The REAL Eve Grayson. Cold. Heartless. Toxic.”

I dropped the phone onto the counter like it was burning.

The kettle screamed louder, steam hissing. My hands shook as I grabbed it and poured the boiling water too fast, scalding my fingers. I hissed, jerking back, water splashing onto the counter.

“Damn it,” I whispered, clutching my hand, but it wasn’t the sting of the burn that hurt. It was the words, the pictures, the venom being poured into the world—about me.

She’d done it. Emily had found a new way to strike.

The sound of footsteps behind me made me spin. Gabriel. His hair was messy, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but his jaw was sharp and tense.

He held up his phone.

“Why are people sending me this?”

My chest cracked. The screen in his hand glowed with the same headline. The same pictures. The same audio.

I opened my mouth—no sound came out. My throat locked tight, shame and fury battling in my chest.

Gabriel’s eyes darkened as he stepped closer, his voice low.

“Eve… What the hell is going on?”

The words cut me clean through, sharper than anything Emily could have planned.

Because he wasn’t looking at the phone anymore.

He was looking at me.

My pulse thundered in my ears.

Gabriel’s phone hovered between us like a weapon, the screen’s glow spilling over his sharp features. His eyes—dark, unreadable—searched mine, not with tenderness, not even suspicion. Something colder.

He wanted an answer.

And I didn’t have one.

“She cut it,” I managed, my voice scraping raw. “The audio, the photos—they’re twisted. It’s Emily. She’s trying to destroy me—destroy us.”

His jaw clenched. He looked back at the phone, thumb scrolling through the comments, the endless stream of strangers dissecting me, mocking me, tearing into every perceived flaw.

“She’s not wrong about the phone,” he said, his tone low and flat. “I’ve seen you tune out, Eve. I’ve seen you pull away. I just never thought…”

The words hung heavy in the air. I felt them like blows.

“Don’t,” I whispered, stepping closer, my burnt hand throbbing as I reached for him. “Don’t you dare believe her. Gabriel, you know me.”

But did he?

The question flashed in his eyes, and it gutted me more than anything Emily had posted.

Before I could speak again, his phone buzzed with another notification. He glanced at it—and something in his face shifted.

I froze.

“Gabriel?”

He didn’t answer. His gaze dropped to the new headline, his lips tightening. His thumb turned the screen toward me.

“Insider Source: Eve Grayson Bribed Staff to Keep Affairs Quiet.”

My stomach dropped, the room tilting.

“What the hell is this?” His voice wasn’t flat anymore. It was sharp, cutting.

“I—Gabriel, no. That’s not—”

But my words tangled, strangled, and drowned beneath the weight of his stare.

Because Emily hadn’t just come for me as a wife.

She’d come for me as a woman. A mother.

A liar.

And Gabriel’s silence told me she was winning.

The kettle clicked off behind me, loud in the silence. My hands shook so violently I curled them into fists just to keep from breaking.

“I can prove it,” I whispered, forcing the words out through the tremor. “But you have to trust me.”

His eyes stayed on me, hard, haunted.

And he didn’t answer.

—

The silence stretched until it became unbearable.

Gabriel stood there, his phone dimming in his hand, his face carved into shadow and doubt. I waited for him to speak, to tell me he trusted me, that he believed me over her. But he didn’t.

He turned away instead.

The sound of his footsteps moving down the hall felt louder than any shout. I followed, my voice breaking.

“Gabriel, please—”

He stopped at the closet, pulling out his jacket with sharp, efficient movements. No wasted motion, no hesitation. Just a cold distance.

“I have business at the office,” he said, his tone clipped.

“Now?” My chest tightened. “After all this? After her lies spreading everywhere, after she—”

His gaze cut to mine, sharp, silencing. “That’s exactly why. There are things I need to straighten out.”

I searched his eyes, desperate, but what I found there wasn’t anger. It was worse. It was emptiness.

“You don’t believe me.” The words came out small, a whisper.

He didn’t answer. He slid on his jacket, straightened his collar, and walked past me like I wasn’t even there.

The door clicked shut behind him.

The sound hollowed out the house.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I pressed my hands to my face, forcing the tears back, forcing the panic to settle. Because I couldn’t fall apart. Not now. That’s what Emily wanted.

I went back into the kitchen. The folder sat on the counter, still heavy, still poisonous. The medical reports. The sonogram. The lies that had cut my husband in two.

My reflection wavered in the glossy cover. I didn’t recognise the woman staring back. Not the devoted wife. Not the perfect homemaker. Just someone teetering at the edge of losing everything.

Gabriel’s last words echoed in my head: “If she’s lying… prove it.”

Fine.

I picked up the folder with shaking hands and held it tight against my chest, like armour.

If proof was what it took, then proof was what I would find.

And if Emily wanted war, she would get one.