When I Saw Through His Lies, Does He Know I Know?

When will I see my fate? When will my dreams came true? You are my one and only wish... That will not happen... How can you recognize true love? Where did I gone wrong? Is your love deceitful? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My husband, Damien, loved me deeply—so deeply it felt like I was his whole world. Everyone said he was the perfect husband. Yet, he betrayed me. Not once, not twice, but three times. The first time was three years ago. His closest friend, Aaron, died saving him. Damien kept it from me and secretly married Aaron’s girlfriend, Vivian—on paper. I was heartbroken and ready to leave him. That night, he sent her abroad and fell to his knees, begging me. “Estelle, Aaron gave his life for me. I must take care of his widow. That marriage certificate is just a promise of security for Vivian. Once I’ve avenged Aaron, I’ll divorce her. The only woman I love is you.” I forgave him. The second time came the following year. At a press conference, Damien publicly introduced Vivian as the Mafia leader’s wife. He pulled me aside to explain. “Vivian is the only daughter of the Young family—the Mafia. Our two families joined forces for one reason only: to get revenge for Aaron. I’ve already made arrangements with her. Once we’ve dealt with our enemies, I’ll divorce her and marry you right away.” Once again, I believed him. Then came the third time. Someone drugged Damien at a banquet, and he spent the night with Vivian. He hid it from me until just two weeks ago, when I caught him at the hospital, sitting beside her during a prenatal checkup. That was when I finally learned the truth. He lowered his head, unable to meet my eyes, and spoke in a low voice. “Estelle, it was an accident. Once she gives birth, I’ll send her away. My parents will raise the child, and I swear—neither of them will ever appear in your life again.” In the name of love, Damien pushed me to compromise again and again. Yet now I know. There’s no future left for us. It’s time for me to walk away.

To make up for past regrets with his first love, my husband, Pierce Ronan, lied that he could see everyone’s lifespan. He told me I had sixty years left, but his first love, Jessica Stone, had only seven days to live. So, for those seven days, he said he had to fulfill the promises of their youth. He brought her home, cared for her, and when they went back to their old college campus to relive their love, I didn’t protest. When he confessed his love to her and planned the wedding of the century, asking me to be the bridesmaid, I didn’t raise my voice. It wasn’t until he wanted to break the final taboo — in our marital bedroom — that he looked at me with guilt in his eyes and begged me to move out. The housemaids watched, snickering behind their hands, but I only smiled and nodded in agreement. I packed my bags, carried our child, and moved into the guest room next door. Seeing how obedient I remained, Pierce was touched. “I promise, this will be the last time I wrong you. Once Jessica passes, I’ll make it up to you.” What he didn’t know was that I had already seen through his lies. What he also didn’t know was that the one truly dying of cancer, the one with only seven days left to live, was me. Three days remained. Then, I would be gone.

During their seven-year relationship, Claudia Maureen Tiongco thought that Preston would be her husband, that he would fulfill her dream of becoming a wife but she was disappointed. Unexpectedly, Preston's attitude towards her changed especially when she met Penelope, his assistant. Claudia tried to understand everything, even seeing the two happy was something she endured because of her deep love for Preston. Every time she saw Preston treating Penelope well, it hurt her so much. But not everything ended there. Claudia saw that leaving Preston and moving to his rival company was a good opportunity to start a new lifestyle but she's wrong. Preston followed her wherever she went and forced her to pursue him again. Will her heart remain hard or will she let him be imprisoned by lies again?

For love, I followed Harrison, the underboss of the Moretti family, from halfway across the world. But for five whole years, my permanent residency application had gone nowhere. Several key steps required Harrison's personal involvement, but he always claimed he was too swamped with family business to find the time. Yet Cathy, my so-called stepsister, who was living on our estate, got her residency in just two short weeks. I only found out through the servants' gossip that Harrison had personally stepped in, pressuring a top immigration lawyer to rush it through. With my hopes completely shattered, I told him I wanted to go home. Harrison, a man who was always so proud, panicked. He pulled me into a fierce embrace, kissing my hair. "Aurora, you're my wife. Getting your permanent residency is just a matter of time." "But Cathy is different. She has no family to protect her. Without legal status, she could be deported at any moment." "Just do it for me. Stay. Okay?" Once again, I gave in to his tender words. Until today. I went to the immigration office alone to check on my file. The clerk stared at the screen, her face a mask of confusion. "Ma'am, the system clearly states that Mr. Harrison Moretti's legal spouse is... a Ms. Cathy." "Did you perhaps fill out your form incorrectly?" My world froze. So, the five years of waiting had all been a lie. I wasn't just denied permanent residency; my very marriage was a fraud. I didn't go back to the estate. I went straight to the airport and flew home. Before I boarded, the last message from him read: "Stop throwing a tantrum. Come home." But Harrison, we didn't have a home anymore.

For five years, I was married to the heir of the Romano family, Italy's biggest crime family. Every night, he'd hold me and whisper, "Just give me an heir, and I'll give him the entire Romano empire." But I never got pregnant, and the Don's disappointment in me grew with every passing month. Until I found out my husband had been secretly swapping my folic acid for birth control pills. I was still reeling from the fury when I saw a post from his ex-girlfriend: an ultrasound photo. Her caption was sweet and smug: “Ten weeks along. Vincent said he can’t wait to meet the baby.” Seeing the flood of congratulations, my mind was made up. I found the contact info for my ex-boyfriend—the one who’d spent the last five years trying to get me back. I sent him a single text. 【Give me one month. Then I’m coming with you.】