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034: A Friendship Made In Hell

Author: readlashes
last update Petsa ng paglalathala: 2026-11-06 23:29:37

I sit at a table near the window overlooking the river on the fourth floor of River Heights Restaurant. A half-drunk glass of red wine is in front of me as I wait for Bianca to show up. To my left, there’s a newlywed couple making out passionately—it’s the making out that makes me think they are newlyweds—and getting their hands all over each other.

There was once a time I would have wanted that, but now marriage, as I know it, is the fastest way for a woman to die. If the man or the kids don
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  • My Billionaire Husband Killed Me, I Came Back As His Enemy   039: A Shocking Discovery

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    I have never hated being a woman more than I do at the moment. I sit at my desk with one hand resting on my stomach, trying to concentrate on the computer in front of me. Unfortunately, my body has other plans. Every few minutes, another cramp hits, and I have to stop whatever I’m doing—which is nothing—until it passes. Leigh has given me a deadline for a project, but at this rate I won’t be able to get it done. I’ve already taken two trips to the bathroom, overdosed on painkillers, drunk almost an entire bottle of water and spent the last twenty minutes shifting around in my chair. Nothing is helping. I press my lips together when another cramp starts, closing my eyes as I lean back. My period is usually uncomfortable, but today is particularly awful. I feel like someone has decided to punish me for every inconvenience I’ve ever caused. Maybe I am being punished for what I did to my parents as revenge and still deciding to drag their lawsuit through court instead of settling.

  • My Billionaire Husband Killed Me, I Came Back As His Enemy   036: You’ve Been Served

    “You’ve been served.”I stare at the envelope in the man’s outstretched hand, wondering if I’ve heard him correctly.“I’m sorry?”“Legal documents. You’ve been served.”I look down at the envelope, then back at him, slowly, to be sure this isn’t some sort of sick joke. Why would anybody be suing me? Bianca could, but she’s probably too scared I’ll expose her secrets to do something stupid.As I take the envelope from his hand, I hear a few snickers from Alexander Newman and his cohorts, who have made sure to frustrate me since I joined this department. I could get them fired if I wanted to, but then I’d have to explain to Leigh what I’m doing in this department. Besides, I don’t want to play the wife card at work.My name is printed neatly across the front, alongside my address. There’s no indication of who sent it, but I have a rather unpleasant suspicion that Bianca might be foolish enough to try something.I tear open the envelope and pull out the documents, looking for the names o

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    I look up at him, blinking innocently. “What?” “Funny, isn’t it? A press conference about technology somehow turned into an interrogation about your childhood trauma.” I shrug and smile. “People are always curious about a billionaires wife.” “Curious?” He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Someone practically accused your parents of abusing you and you didn’t even answer or clear the air.” “Well, I did say no comment.” “Stephanie, that's not clearing the air!” “Well, it clears the air about you being abusive. He looks at me for a few seconds, then shakes his head. “What kind of game are you—” He stops as phone vibrates in his hand, and he glances down at the screen. I watch his expression change as he reads whatever has appeared. His eyebrows draw together then he looks at me. “What game are you playing?” He asks, turning the phone towards me. It’s a video from Bianca’s charity event yesterday. She’s standing on a stage in front of a group of people, dressed in a beautiful w

  • My Billionaire Husband Killed Me, I Came Back As His Enemy   034: A Friendship Made In Hell

    I sit at a table near the window overlooking the river on the fourth floor of River Heights Restaurant. A half-drunk glass of red wine is in front of me as I wait for Bianca to show up. To my left, there’s a newlywed couple making out passionately—it’s the making out that makes me think they are newlyweds—and getting their hands all over each other. There was once a time I would have wanted that, but now marriage, as I know it, is the fastest way for a woman to die. If the man or the kids don’t kill her spark, soul, and dreams, then the man will steal from her and kill her literally. My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of heels clacking. I look up to see Bianca walk toward me. A man follows shortly after—a bodyguard, no doubt—and takes a seat at the other end of the restaurant. I roll my eyes internally; oh, the paranoia that comes with being famous. “Bianca!” I exclaim, plastering a grin on my face. “I am so happy to see you!” Her jaw clenches as she slams her Birkin bag on

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