Married to a Man Who Doesn't Understand the Silent Treatment

After three years of marriage to Chandler Goodwin, his wife believes his coldness is just part of his personality. She has spent their relationship apologizing for every conflict, assuming he simply doesn't understand emotional cues like the silent treatment. However, when she catches him desperately pleading for his assistant's forgiveness after less than an hour of silence, the truth emerges. It wasn't that he lacked emotion; he just never cared enough to coax her.

Chapters

Chapter 4

A laugh bubbled out of me, and I sent Chandler a voice message in a tone that was tinged with both self-mockery and resignation, "Don't worry. I won't do anything."

Because I had already made up my mind to leave him.

I checked the time, only to see that it was midnight. It wouldn't be convenient to have him come back now. Hence, after some thought, I said, "Chandler, stop staying at the hotel and come back home tomorrow night. I have an agreement that needs your signature."

…

The next day, I woke up bright and early to start packing my belongings.

At first, I thought about making dinner, but after a moment of consideration, I decided against it. Chandler had never liked my cooking. If he were to see a table full of dishes I cooked, he would likely grow unhappy again.

With a grin on my face, I swiftly ordered some takeout.

Soon, it was 6:00 pm, yet Chandler still hadn't replied to my message.

I accepted the takeout the food delivery driver handed me, then gave him an extra tip to help me take out the trash. There wasn't much, mostly just the apology letters I had written over the years. I had dug them out from the table drawer of Chandler's study, where he had kept them all.

By 7:00 pm, Chandler still hadn't returned home.

Not at all anxious or bothered by that, I decided to eat by myself since I was hungry. While scrolling through my phone, I happened upon Amanda's social media post.

"My period came, and I'm having such terrible cramps. Thankfully, Mr. Goodwin offered to take me home."

When was the last time my period came? It was probably the 17th. Due to the severe discomfort, I had taken some painkillers and fallen asleep, resulting in my missing Chandler's call.

He had blocked my number without any hesitation, only unblocking me a few days ago. I could still remember him saying, "Jennifer Lane, it's just your period. It's not like it'll kill you."

Of course, having my period wouldn't kill me, but his chilly indifference had indeed made me feel like I was dead inside.

Yawning, I lazily tapped on the "like" button. Immediately, my phone vibrated with a message from Chandler, who had sent me a question mark.

Instead of replying to his message, I continued with my meal.

Ten minutes later, the sound of a key turning in the lock rang out from the front door before Chandler strode in aggressively.

Upon seeing the leftovers from my takeout order, he paused in his steps.

"Did you not cook?"

I instinctively touched the scar that had been left on my hand from a previous cooking incident. "I thought you didn't like my cooking."

Frustration and annoyance flashed in Chandler's eyes as he was rendered speechless at my retort. Nonetheless, he would never show me his true feelings.

He shoved a jewelry box at me. "Your anniversary gift. Have a look."

I took the box from him and glanced inside. As I expected, it was the long-overdue necklace.

"Thanks," I thanked him politely.

There was another flash of emotion in Chandler's eyes, as though he couldn't understand why I was being so courteous.

Then, his gaze darkened as he said, "I didn't mean to be late. There was an emergency at work, and I came rushing back as soon as I could. I only sent her home because it was on the way. Don't get jealous over nothing."

I nodded, replying, "It's fine. I don't mind."

I genuinely didn't care, but that seemed to frustrate Chandler, who asked in a slightly aggrieved tone, "Then, why didn't you get me a gift?"

The moment he finished speaking, even he appeared surprised by himself, for this wasn't befitting of his character.

Nevertheless, he had always been a proud man, especially when it came to interacting with me. Hence, barely a few seconds had passed when his expression darkened. Throwing me one last cold glare, he turned to leave. I knew this meant he was going to start yet another round of silent treatment.

"Hold it!" I stopped him. Then, I lowered my head and began searching through the drawers for the divorce agreement.

Chandler turned his head, revealing the small smirk curling his lips. He came up behind me and asked, "What are you looking for? My gift?"

"Found it!" I lifted my head, unable to hide the excitement in my voice. "I had a lawyer write up a divorce agreement. Go ahead and sign it."

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B19083

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Celebrating the third year of her marriage to Eanes Lambert, a woman is met not with romance but with her husband's public devotion to his childhood sweetheart. When she acknowledges their blatant social media post, Eanes lashes out, labeling her jealousy as petty. The disrespect peaks when the mistress sends a photo of them kissing. Instead of the usual confrontation, the wife chooses to walk away from the billionaire, finally granting him the freedom he clearly desires.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.0

Flash Marriage To The Hidden Billionaire

8.0

My abusive step-family isolated me completely, holding my mother's medical funds hostage to control my every move. Yesterday, they finalized my sale. "You will marry Rudy Petrov next month. He is fifty, wealthy, and willing to overlook your lack of pedigree." Pushed to the absolute edge, I did the insane. I posted an ad online offering my life savings of $50,000 for a contract husband. A stranger named Brennan agreed. But my family wouldn't let me go. They forced me back for a dinner by threatening my mother's life-saving prescriptions. At the table, they relentlessly mocked my new "poor IT guy" husband and intentionally burned my hand with boiling tea. Worse, the housekeeper locked me in a guest room and forced drugs down my throat so Rudy could come in and assault me. I lay there paralyzed on the floor, bleeding from Rudy's slap, utterly terrified. I couldn't understand why my own family would throw me to the wolves, and I felt a crushing guilt for dragging an innocent, ordinary guy into my nightmare. Until a pitch-black Maybach smashed through the estate's wrought-iron gates at eighty miles an hour. My "poor" husband kicked the solid oak doors off their hinges, beat Rudy half to death, and carried me out into the rain. I didn't know it yet, but the ordinary man I hired to save me was a ruthless billionaire, and he was about to erase my family's entire empire by morning.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.1

My Husband Gave Our Penthouse Key to His Ex

8.1

After three years of marriage, Olivia discovers her husband, billionaire Ethan, secretly gave his former lover the key to their private penthouse. This betrayal shatters her trust and forces her to confront the reality of their hollow union. As Ethan’s past flame begins to reclaim her place in his life, Olivia must decide whether to fight for a man who never let go of his history or finally walk away from the luxury and lies to find her own path.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.7

Owned by the Ex

7.7

Silas Vane, a billionaire on the edge of ruin, needs his ex-wife's signature to save his tech empire-and June Ashby, his scorned orchard-owning ex, wants only one thing: to make him suffer. The deal is brutal, simple, and non-negotiable: Silas must move back to their small hometown, trade his silk suits for calloused hands, and work the orchard harvest for six months. Worse? He has to play her doting husband for the press-fake marriage, real contract, no room for error. What starts as a revenge-fueled game quickly spirals. As the sun dips below the orchard trees, old sparks reignite, and the line between fake and real blurs into something dangerous. Silas came to town for a patent to save his empire. But he might just walk away with a broken contract-and a heart completely owned by the woman who set out to destroy him.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.0

The Dying Billionaire's Secret Contract Wife

9.0

I stood in the ballroom of the Plaza Hotel, clutching a crystal flute of champagne that felt like a lead weight. It was my engagement party, the night I was supposed to be the happiest woman in New York. Then my phone buzzed with a link that shattered everything. I watched a video of my fiancé, Jed, tangled in the arms of my roommate while he laughed about how I was just a "boring, safe little girl" he needed to tolerate until my family's stock transfer went through. When I confronted him and walked out, I thought the nightmare was over, but my own father called me in a rage. He didn't care that I’d been betrayed; he only cared that the merger was the only thing keeping him from bankruptcy. He froze my bank accounts and left me with exactly forty-two dollars to my name. Jed started sending me threats, promising to leak private videos to the press if I didn't come back to him. I was penniless, homeless, and being hunted by a man who wanted to destroy my soul. Desperate, I took the only deal left on the table: a contract marriage to Hardin Hunter, a reclusive billionaire heir with terminal heart failure. The deal was simple: ten million dollars to be a "nurse with a ring" for six months until he passed away. I signed the papers and moved into his gothic manor, expecting to wait for a heart to stop beating. But when Hardin pinned me against a wall, his grip like iron and his pulse thundering with a strength no dying man should possess, I realized the "dying" heir was a lie. "You're not dying," I whispered, feeling the raw power of his heart against my hand. Hardin just looked at me with eyes like molten glass and said, "I might be a monster, Elsie, but I'm the only one who can keep you alive."

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.9

The Jilted Heiress: Rising From Betrayal

7.9

I woke up in a sterile hospital bed with the smell of antiseptic burning my throat, having just had my stomach pumped six hours ago. Before the sedatives even wore off, my mother called, not to ask if I was alive, but to demand I show up at my sister’s birthday gala in two hours. To her, I wasn't a daughter; I was a three-hundred-million-dollar signature needed for a corporate merger. She didn't care that I was suicidal, or that my fiancé, Franco, was currently at a luxury hotel with his "secretary" while I was hooked up to an IV. At the gala, the humiliation only deepened. I watched my fiancé walk in with his mistress, the air thick with her cloying perfume. When my grandmother’s "lost" emeralds—my rightful inheritance—spilled out of the mistress’s purse, my mother didn't flinch. Instead, she hissed at me to give them back to avoid a scene. My sister, the "perfect" golden child, took the stage and told the elite crowd that I was mentally unstable and "confused" due to my medication. I stood there, drenched in champagne and bleeding from a glass shard, while my own family gaslighted me in front of the world's press. Franco didn't even look at me as he shielded his mistress from the cameras, leaving me to stand alone in the wreckage of a life they had dismantled. I realized then that my parents didn't want a daughter; they wanted a pawn who wouldn't talk back. Why was my life worth less than a line item in a budget? How could a mother hand her daughter’s legacy to a mistress just to keep a contract intact? As my sister lunged at me in a fit of rage, I kicked her into the infinity pool and watched the "perfect" family mask finally shatter. I didn't wait for them to pull me down; I let the weight of my gown drag me into the dark water myself. Let them think the broken Kalea Alexander is gone. When I surface, I’m not coming back as a daughter—I’m coming back as their worst nightmare.

Billionaire Modern Romance

Married to a Man Who Doesn't Understand the Silent Treatment

Chapter 4

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