CHAPTER 19

TOO BAD... SHE'S MY WIFE

The bathroom filled with steam, the hiss of water drowning out the storm outside although it seemed to have quietened a bit. Abigail stood under the spray, eyes closed, letting the heat scald her skin until it turned pink. She couldn’t scrub away the night the gunfire, the blood, the sound of bones breaking but she tried anyway but her trial kind of screamed invalid.

When the water finally ran cold, she shut it off, wrapped herself in a thick towel, and stared at her reflection in the fogged mirror. Her eyes were swollen, rimmed with red; her hair clung damply to her face. She looked like someone else. Like a stranger who had killed a man, even if it was to survive.

But she did. Didn't' she?.... Didn't' even know whether she was questioning herself or saying.

Luke’s words echoed in her head: They hurt you… and I burn the world down.

A shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the chill.

She dressed in a long T-shirt from the linen closet and padded barefoot to the guest room, Luke had shown her before vanishing. The bed was enormous, draped in crisp white sheets that smelled faintly of cedar and something dark, like smoke. Abigail crawled under the covers, exhaustion slamming into her like a wall.

For a long time, sleep wouldn’t come. Every time she closed her eyes, the faces of the dead flashed behind her lids. The crowbar in her hands. The weight of a life ending because of her.

But eventually, the storm’s fury dulled to a distant hum, and the darkness pulled her under.

___

The first thing she noticed when she woke was silence. No gunshots. No thunder. Just the soft murmur of voices she didn’t recognize and that she was grateful for, although she knew that kind of fight isn't the only one she had to face.

Abigail blinked at the morning light spilling across the room, warm and golden against the hardwood floors. For a fleeting moment, she let herself pretend everything was normal that she’d woken in some quiet life, where danger wasn’t always clawing at her heels but alas she knew danger would and will be lurking around….the thought of her thinking of a peaceful moment in this her present world amused her.

Then the voices sharpened.

…"You can’t just show up like this.” Luke’s voice, low and tight.

And another female, smooth as silk, laced with authority. Kate.

Abigail’s stomach twisted. She’d only met Luke’s mother twice, before at the Vandell family mansion, a house that made palaces look modest. That day, Kate had looked her over like something tracked in from the street and gave her the stare that says,

“My son is not a charity case”

The words had seared Abigail’s skin with a smile sharp enough to cut glass and also she had met her at the event they attended where all the masterminded chaos began.

And Obetta had been there too poised, perfect, every inch, the woman Kate wanted for her son. Their exchange had been civil. Polished. And cold enough to frost the air.

“You’re brave,” Obetta had said with that feline smile. “Walking into this world without a map. I wonder how long you’ll last.”

Abigail had smiled back, even though her nails bit crescents into her palms. “Long enough to make you wonder why I’m still standing.”

The memory made her chest tighten now as the voices in the living room grew clearer. She slipped out of bed, heart thudding, and crept toward the door.

“…this isn’t a discussion, Luke,” Kate was saying. “You can’t keep hiding here with her. What will people think? What does it do to your name? You know the press isn't some church that operates with the word of mercy.

"That girl isn't good for you” she said her voice laced with venom for Abigail.

“My name,” Luke bit out, “is mine to handle.”

“Not when it drags this family through the mud. She is not one of us.”

Abigail’s throat burned. She pressed her palm against the doorframe, steadying herself.

Then came a voice that made her blood run cold. Smooth. Elegant. Familiar.

“Kate, maybe we should give Luke a little grace. Adjustments take time.” A pause, then, dripping sweetness: “Though I do worry she’s… out of her depth.”

Obetta.

Abigail’s fingers curled into fists.

She stepped into the hall before she could second-guess herself. Her bare feet were silent on the polished floor as she walked toward the voices.

The living room came into view sunlight spilling through the glass walls, gilding the tension like something out of a painting. Luke stood near the sofa, tall and cold, his black T-shirt clinging to muscles tense as coiled steel. Kate sat primly on the couch in an ivory suit, her diamond bracelet catching the light. And beside her, Obetta. Every inch, the goddess she’d been at the mansion party. Midnight hair cascading over one shoulder. A dress that whispered money.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward Abigail as she stepped into the room.

For a heartbeat, silence ruled.

Then Kate’s smile curved polite, practiced, and poisoned. “Abigail.”

Abigail lifted her chin, ignoring the weight of their stares. “Kate.” Her voice was steady. She didn’t glance at Obetta, though she could feel her gaze like a blade.

“You look… rested,” Kate said, her eyes sweeping over the oversized T-shirt, bare legs, damp hair. “Comfortable, I see.”

Luke shifted slightly, his jaw tightening. Abigail caught the warning flicker in his eyes "don’t engage" but it was too late.

“I was,” Abigail said lightly, crossing to the armchair opposite them. “Until the surprise visit.”

Obetta’s smile was a study in perfection. “Some surprises are good for the soul.” Her gaze dipped, taking in Abigail’s casual state, then rose with deliberate slowness. “Others… well.”

Abigail met her stare head-on, her own smile cool. “You would know.”

The air between them crackled, sharp as broken glass.

Kate exhaled softly, as though the entire scene bored her. “Luke, darling, we need to talk privately.” Her eyes slid to Abigail, dismissive as a flicked crumb. “Family matters.”

Luke didn’t move. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it here.” He said with no much indifference to his voice.

Kate’s lips thinned. “You can’t be serious.”

“Well as you can see I am,” Luke said, his voice low but lethal. “You don’t like her? Too bad. She’s my wife.”

Obetta’s lashes lowered slightly, but not before Abigail caught the gleam in her eyes, a spark of something that wasn’t surprise. Or maybe it was a challenge.

Kate rose gracefully, smoothing her jacket. “We’ll discuss this later.” Her gaze cut to Abigail like a blade dipped in ice. “I hope you enjoy your little vacation here. While it lasts.”

She swept out without another word. Obetta lingered for a fraction of a second, her smile curving like a secret before she followed.

The door shut. Silence crashed down.

Abigail let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Luke didn’t speak. He just stood there, hands fisted at his sides, eyes like storms.

Abigail’s pulse thudded in her throat. “Luke…”

He looked at her then and whatever was in his gaze made her skin burn.