The State-Assigned Husband Chapter 04

The State-Assigned Husband Chapter 04

Ethan worked far faster than I expected.

He called the next afternoon.

“Ms. Moore,” he said, “you were right.”

His voice was calm, but every word cut like a knife.

“Liam has been legally married for nine years. He has a wife, a son, and a daughter. As for the workplace you provided-there is no employee named Liam at that address, or associated with that company.”

His job was a lie.

I stood by the window holding the phone, sunlight bright outside.

Too bright to be real.

Married nine years.

Two kids.

I closed my eyes, tears rolling down silently.

Six years.

I’d given my best six years to a man with a family. I thought we were building a home, but I was just

his secret on the side.

That night, Liam came home.

He walked in carrying a bouquet of red roses, dewdrops still clinging to the petals. They were a vivid, jarring splash of color.

“For you, honey,” he said.

I didn’t take them.

He sensed something was wrong, his smile freezing for a second.

“Liam.”

I’d never said his name like that.

He froze.

“You are married. You have a wife. Children. That job you go to every day-it’s a lie.”

I spoke slowly, forcing each word out. My voice trembled, but the words themselves were clear,

sharp.

“You lied to me for six years.”

His face finally shifted.

No excuses, no denials, no talk of system glitches.

He fell silent for a few seconds, then sighed.

“So you know everything.”

In that moment, I wished he’d made up another lie.

Even a clumsy, transparent one. Because that would have meant he still cared enough to try to spare my feelings.

But he didn’t.

He wouldn’t even bother denying it.

“Why did you lie to me?” My voice was hoarse.

“Because I love you,” he said, as if it were the simplest truth in the world. He took a step forward, arms opening for an embrace.

I stepped back.

“Love me?” I laughed, tears falling harder. “Trick me with a fake license for six years, make me the

other woman-this is love?”

He frowned, genuinely confused by my anger.

“Honey,” he said, almost wounded, “does the license matter? My feelings for you are real, the money I give you is real. I just… have a small flaw. You once said no one’s perfect, right?”

I stared at him.

Like he was a stranger.