The Silent Heir

Rowan Ashford entered his house with a sigh and pushed the door open quietly, the small glass jar of medicine still in his hand.

His steps were slow, and his body clearly worn out, but there was still a faint smile on his face because he had been waiting for this day.

After this last dose, his wife's legs would be completely healed. No more pain or weakness. It would be finally over.

He moved further in, about to step into the sitting room when a man’s laughter drifted out.

The sound was loud and relaxed, like he had nothing to worry about. Then Ella’s voice followed, soft and playful as she laughed along with him.

Rowan stopped.

His fingers tightened slightly around the jar.

That kind of laughter… he had never heard it from her before. Not once in three years they've been together.

No matter how much he tried or how careful he was, she never laughed like that with him. She always told him to stop trying. Said it was unnecessary.

Still... he never stopped and kept trying to make her happy, though it never yielded any result.

“Where’s your lovely husband?” the man asked with a chuckle.

Ella scoffed immediately. “Lovely? There’s nothing lovely about him.”

Rowan didn’t move. His face stayed calm, but something tightened in his chest, hearing the woman he'd devoted himself to talk about him that way.

The man laughed again. “But he loves you.”

Ella’s tone turned cold without hesitation. “Love? No matter how sick his love is, I never loved him.”

Rowan’s grip on the jar tightened.

“He’s only been useful to me,” she continued casually. “That’s all.”

There was a small pause before her voice softened again and almost cheerful.

“And now that you’re back, I don’t need him anymore. I’ll divorce him… then I’ll marry you.”

Rowan stood there for a moment, the words settling in quietly. It felt like something had been pushed straight through his chest, but his expression didn’t change. He swallowed it down, like he always did.

Then he pushed the door open and walked in.

The scene inside didn’t surprise him as much as he'd expected.

Ella was on the couch, her clothes barely covering her body, sitting comfortably as the man beside her held her close. Their position was intimate, obvious. Neither of them moved when Rowan entered.

They simply looked at him, and Ella’s eyes met his without any guilt.

“So… you heard everything?” she asked calmly.

Rowan looked at her silently, killing whatever hurtful emotions were stirring up in him.

She shrugged slightly. “Good. That saves me the stress of explaining anything to you.”

Rowan didn’t respond, and stared blankly.

Ella adjusted herself on the couch, leaning back against the man like Rowan wasn’t even there.

“My legs are fine now, and you know what that means,” she said plainly. “I don’t need you anymore.”

Rowan’s eyes moved briefly to her legs, then back to her face.

“I’ll give you ten million,” she added, like it was nothing, pointing to the table. “Take it, sign the divorce papers, and leave.”

Rowan’s gaze shifted to the table.

The documents were already prepared, and then he looked back at her.

“That’s enough for you,” Ella continued, her tone turning sharp. “Don’t act like you deserve more.”

The man beside her smirked. “You should be thankful. Ten million isn’t something people like you ever see.”

Ella nodded. “Exactly. With your background, that money can carry you for life. Don’t be greedy by giving me that damn look.”

Rowan remained quiet, watching them act out.

His calm and quiet annoyed Ella so badly that she looked at him with clear disdain.

“Stop acting all mysterious, you’ve lived comfortably under my roof for three years. Food, clothes, a place to stay… what else do you think you’ve earned?”

Rowan’s expression didn’t change.

“You were never my equal,” she added coldly. “Don’t forget that.”

The room went quiet for a moment.

Rowan stood there, still holding the medicine jar, his face calm and his eyes unreadable.

Then he finally spoke.

“So… ten million.”

His voice was low and steady.

“That’s what I’m worth to you?”

Ella frowned slightly, annoyed. “Don’t make this complicated. Just sign and leave.”

Her tone hardened. “Take the money and disappear quietly. Don’t force me to make things ugly.”

Rowan looked at her for a moment longer, then his gaze shifted to the man beside her.

Asher.

The same man who had walked away three years ago without looking back, the same man who disappeared the moment Ella lost the use of her legs, leaving everything behind like it meant nothing.

Rowan said nothing, but his eyes lingered for a second longer, calm and steady, as if weighing something quietly.

For three years, he had stayed. He had carried her, fed her, endured her temper, learned pressure-point massage, studied rehabilitation methods, read through medical texts late into the night, refined herbal combinations, adjusted dosages… everything just to bring her back to where she was now. And now that she could stand again, she was choosing the man who had left.

He let out a slow breath.

“So this is what you really want?” Rowan asked, his voice low and even. “A divorce.”

Ella didn’t hesitate. She stood up, picked up the document, and slapped it down on the table in front of him, then tossed a bank card after it, like she was done wasting time.

“I’ve already decided,” she said coldly. “Sign it and leave. I’ve been suffocated by you for a long time.”

Rowan didn’t argue as she'd expected because her husband had simped for her for years.

He stepped forward, picked up the pen, and signed his name without hesitation. His movements were clean and controlled, without any unnecessary pause, like he had already made peace with it the moment he walked in.

Just as he turned to leave, Asher suddenly stood up, pulling Ella closer by the waist, like he needed to make a point. Ella let out a soft laugh, leaning into him without resistance.

“You should thank him properly,” Asher said with a faint smile. “He took good care of you for three years.”

Ella smiled, clearly pleased.

Asher looked at Rowan again, his tone turning casual and almost mocking.

“Three years ago, I didn’t leave because I wanted to. I had an opportunity abroad. Anyone with sense would have taken it. Otherwise, I would never have abandoned her to a street punk like you.”

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a bank card, and slapped it against Rowan’s chest.

“There’s five million in there,” he said. “Take it and get lost. Don’t linger around her anymore, consider it payment for your service.”

The card slid down and fell to the floor.

Rowan looked at it briefly, then at the other card on the table.

Ten million then five million.

He shook his head slightly.

“There’s no need,” he said calmly. “Keep it.”

Asher’s expression turned faintly displeased.

“Don’t act like you have pride. Do you even know what that amount means?”

Rowan didn’t respond to him.

He walked past them, placed the glass jar gently on the table, then looked at Ella one last time.

“This is the last dose,” he said. “Take it properly. It completes the treatment cycle. If you miss it, your recovery won’t stabilize.”

Ella glanced at the jar with no real interest. “I don’t need your reminder.”

Rowan nodded once. “I know.”

He turned and walked toward the door and just as he reached it, Asher’s voice came again.

“Hold on.”

Rowan stopped, but didn’t turn immediately.

Asher walked a few steps closer, his tone no longer casual; it was now carrying a hint of sharpness as he asked,

“Why did you bring her fake medicine?”