The CEO'S Dead Wife: A Marriage Made In Hell!

ABIGAIL

“Help!”

The word scraped my throat as I held my stomach. My knees buckled beneath me as pain ripped through my abdomen. The pain was almost unbearable as the world tilted, and I felt the floor meeting my cheek, my breath caught in my chest. My sweaty palms pressed against the cold marble tiles. I could barely breathe, every nerve in my stomach twisting like a thousand knives digging into me.

Before I could even try to cry out again, a voice cut through the fog of pain.

“Get up this instant, you shameless woman! Don’t you dare stain my precious floor!”

I flinched at the words. My mother-in-law’s heels clicked angrily against the tiles as she advanced toward me, her perfume heavy, her disgust even heavier.

“This floor costs more than you and your entire miserable family put together,” she sneered, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. “You can’t even do the one thing women are supposed to do, yet you lie there acting like some helpless thing. Pathetic!”

Her words were hurtful, but I didn’t respond. I’d heard worse so many times, I could almost repeat them word for word.

I tried to get up. My arms trembled beneath me, my body felt like it was paralyzed, and every time I tried to straighten, pain lashed through me again, pulling me down.

“I said get up!” she snapped again, her voice rising. “You’ll dirty the entire house with your filth.”

A groan slipped from my lips before I could stop it, and tears blurred my vision. But before I could gather the strength to move, the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs.

I turned weakly toward the direction of the sound, toward him.

Alexander.

My husband.

My heart squeezed painfully at the sight of him.

For a moment, hope flared. “Alexander…” My voice was barely above a whisper as I reached a trembling hand toward him.

He didn’t even look at me. He brushed past like I wasn’t there, as he walked straight to the bar and poured himself a drink. The sound of liquid splashing into glass was the only reply I got.

“Alexander…” I tried again, my lips quivering.

He sighed, the sound heavy and full of irritation.

“For Christ sake Abigail, let me breathe! There's always something with you every fucking day! Stop pretending, and get up from there. I don’t have the patience for your drama today.”

I lowered my hand slowly, wondering what I was expecting from a man that has shown me nothing but hate for the past three years. My mother-in-law’s lips curled in a cruel smile as she stepped forward, grabbed me by the collar of my blouse, and began dragging me toward the door.

“You’ve embarrassed my son enough! You’re a disgrace to this family! You know what? Die if you want! We've had enough of you already.”

Her nails dug into my skin, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I looked toward Alexander one last time, silently pleading for him to say something, to stop her, to see me.

He didn’t even glance my way, just as he had done for the past three years.

For three years, I have worked hard and tirelessly for the HALES family but all I get in return is hate and curses.

Alexander was my childhood crush and all I wanted was to marry him, until he flew abroad and everything became so hard for him. Still I didn't stop, I became his secret pen pal and helped him through the hardship. But I guess fate was not on my side, because Sophia, my best friend, stole that identity from me. 

Years later and she's dead, but I'm still competing with her ghost for his attention.

After our marriage, I made sure I secretly made Alexander rise to the point of fame. Now that he is finally stable, he looks at me like trash.

Like I was a dirt scraped off his shoes, like my whole existence disgust him.

It took everything in me to pull myself together enough to get to the hospital. I didn’t even know how I managed to drive; the pain was that bad.

I sat in the waiting room, my palms pressed against my stomach, cold sweat clinging to my forehead. Minutes bled into hours until the doctor finally came out.

My heart plummeted.

"Congratulations Mrs. Hales, it's just as we suspected, you're three weeks pregnant."

I couldn't believe it, I placed my palm on my mouth, gasping as tears settled at the base of my eyes. This had to be the best news of my life.

In my three years of marriage with Alexander, this was the best news I had gotten. I knew how much Alexander wanted to be a dad. Most times when we were out to events and parties, I would secretly watch him stare at little kids and sometimes play with them.

I knew Alexander had only married me because of his family, but maybe now he would love.

"Mrs Hales, are you alright?' the doctor questioned with a gentle touch snapping me out of my thoughts.

I nodded my head and collected the test results from the doctor's hand. Hopefully, this news will change everything and bring my marriage back to life. 

"I am, doctor, thank you,"

“One more thing, Mrs Hales,” he said gently, holding a clipboard. “You’re lucky you came when you did. The stress you’re under nearly caused a miscarriage. You need rest, a balanced diet, and absolutely no emotional strain.”

But I barely heard him after that. My heart was pounding too hard, my mind spinning.

Pregnant.

The word filled my chest, warm and dizzying. I clutched my stomach, a laugh escaping me before I could stop it. After three years of being called barren and all the humiliation.

Finally, life had turned around. Finally, they’d see me differently. Alexander would look at me differently.

I thanked the doctor through tears and practically floated out of the hospital, my heart thudding with giddy relief.

I didn’t see her until we collided.

Her bag slipped from her hand, its contents scattering across the pavement. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” I dropped to my knees, gathering lipstick, an old photograph, a small brown journal.

“Sophia?” she breathed softly.

I froze.

When I looked up, my breath caught.

“Madam Langford…” I whispered.

Sophia’s grandmother.

My heart twisted. The old woman’s mind had never fully recovered after Sophia’s passing. Alzheimer’s had stolen most of her memories, leaving her caught between past and present.

“You’ve come back to visit me,” she said, smiling faintly. “You always said you would.”

Tears burned my eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to correct her.

“Yes,” I whispered. “It’s me.”

Her wrinkled hands reached into her purse, pulling out a small, weathered journal.

"You forgot this,” she said, pressing it into my hands. “It’s yours, isn’t it? All your lovely letters.”

My fingers trembled as I took it. I flipped through a few pages and my heart stopped.

My handwriting. Every word I’d written to Alexander years ago. The letters that had once been my secret, my soul poured onto paper.

Sophia’s grandmother smiled faintly. “You always wrote so beautifully.”

I bit back a sob. “Thank you,” I whispered hoarsely.

That night, as I drove home, I held the journal to my chest, my thoughts spinning wildly.

This was the proof of the truth. The evidence that I had been the one who’d written to Alexander. That I had been the one who’d healed him.

Now, he’d know. Now, he’d finally see me for who I really was, and know that I am the one that his heart has truly longed for. 

The moment I stepped into the mansion, I could barely contain my excitement. My hands shook as I clutched the journal, my heart racing.

I didn’t even take my shoes off, I just hurried up the stairs, eager to find him, to tell him everything.

Then my phone beeped.

A message.

I almost ignored it until I saw the notification: Breaking News: Alexander Whitford Files for Divorce from Wife, Abigail Whitford.

My blood ran cold.

“What?” My voice cracked. 

I opened the article, my fingers trembling. My picture filled the screen, with a man I’d never even met, in what looked like a hotel room, our faces too close, his hand brushing my cheek.

I gasped. My knees gave out, and the phone slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the floor.

“This isn’t real,” I whispered, shaking my head. 

But then I saw the papers on the console table by the stairs. 

A cold chill crawled down my spine as I picked up the document.

A DIVORCE paper!