My Husband Wanted Me To Cheat And I Went To The Don. Chapter 11
The things that happened afterward—Silvia learned about them from the news.
Charles’s father’s illegitimate son was exposed by the media. The scandal was everywhere.
His mother filed for divorce in a fury, and the two old people went through with it.
The family empire began its decline. Charles was run ragged, and then the illegitimate brother ambushed him and put a knife in his side.
Nancy did end up finding a job.
She married an ordinary man, had the child, lived an ordinary life.
And Charles, once he’d healed from the stabbing, began appearing in Silvia’s life at regular intervals.
He sent her things.
Jewelry she liked. Snacks she loved. A monthly subscription to the florist she used to frequent.
The shipping labels never listed a sender, but she knew it was him. She returned every package.
Eventually he stopped sending them. She heard through old mutual acquaintances that Charles was still waiting for her.
“Once she realizes that guy can’t be counted on, she’ll come back on her own.”
He’d said it to Mark over drinks. He was gambling.
Gambling that she was just chasing novelty. Gambling that one day she’d realize he was still the better choice.
She heard about it, but she didn’t care. Her career was on the rise. Her relationship was in its honeymoon phase.
What Charles didn’t know was that she was genuinely happy. Leading her own team, running her own projects.
Before, she’d spent all her energy waiting for Charles to come home. Now she spent it writing reports, meeting clients, closing deals.
It was exhausting. But it was solid ground beneath her feet.
Every cent was earned by her own hands. Every achievement was fought for by her alone.
Richard was five years younger, but he never made her feel like she was with someone immature.
He didn’t say sweet nothings. He didn’t plan romantic surprises.
He couldn’t even argue properly.
Every time she got angry, he’d sit beside her, quiet and still, and let her finish talking.
Then he’d say, “I was wrong,” and ask, “Are you hungry? I’ll make you a steak.”
Sometimes she thought—maybe this was exactly what she needed.
Not a love that burned like wildfire. Just someone quietly there.
When Richard officially took over his family’s business, she gave birth to their daughter.
Richard’s hands shook the entire time he held the baby.
He kept murmuring, “She has your mouth. My eyes.”
Silvia watched the scene and suddenly laughed. She asked Richard:
“Why did you volunteer yourself to Charles back then?”
Richard paused.
He looked down at the daughter in his arms, ears going red again.
“Because that year I was kidnapped, and you happened to pass by that warehouse and secretly got me out. Ever since then, I told myself—I’m going to find you one day.”
“It’s not about repaying a debt,” he said, lifting his head to meet her eyes. “I just wanted to be near you. Any way I could.”
That was the first time he’d told her the full story.
She’d been twelve that year.
Her father had been trailing Charles’s father through a life lived on the knife’s edge.
One day she’d tried to tag along and gotten lost. She’d stumbled upon the warehouse. Found a kidnapped boy inside.
She’d snuck him out. She’d fallen so many times on the way, but she never gave up.
Later the boy was taken away for treatment, and she’d assumed it was just a small thing she’d done once.
But that boy had remembered for a full ten years.
“So you knew it was me from the start?” she asked.
“I wasn’t sure,” Richard smiled.
“It wasn’t until I saw the photos in your house that I knew for certain.”
“Then why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“If I had, you wouldn’t have let me stay. You’d have thought I was there to repay a debt. You’d have felt guilty. You’d have been polite with me.”
He lowered his head, his voice getting quieter and quieter.
“I didn’t want you to be polite with me.”
Silvia looked at him, and suddenly her nose stung.
“Idiot.”
Richard smiled, gently placed their daughter in her arms, leaned down, and kissed her forehead.
In the years that followed, Charles kept waiting.
Waiting for Silvia to look back. Waiting for Richard to prove unreliable. Waiting for her to figure out who truly belonged with her.
He waited three years.
Five years.
Seven years.
Until Silvia had her second child.
Until her career grew bigger and bigger.
Until her company went public.
Until she’d made a name for herself in the industry.
He never did see her look back.
And he never found anyone else.
Jeffery asked him once: “Charles, what exactly are you waiting for?”
He thought about it for a long time. Then said: “I don’t know.”
Maybe he wasn’t waiting for Silvia.
Maybe he was waiting for himself to accept—that she truly was never coming back.
The boy who’d knelt in the rain never did get the ending he wanted.
But perhaps this was the best ending after all.
She was well.
That was enough.