Todos los capítulos de THE ABANDONED WIFE: Capítulo 101 - Capítulo 110

The silence that fell over the Fodert home was more deafening than any scream. Bill, still slumped in his chair, stared blankly at the polished dining table, the scene of a battle he had both won and lost. Sarah, her face streaked with tears, could only manage broken sobs, her body trembling with the aftershocks of fear and heartbreak. And Megan, the knife now dropped on the floor, felt the adrenaline of the moment drain away, leaving her hollow and cold. Her father's final words, "You cease to be a Fodert," echoed in her mind, a final, definitive severing of the ties that bound them.The tension was unbearable. Megan couldn't stay another minute in a house that felt like a tomb. Without another word, she turned and fled to her room, grabbing a suitcase and shoving clothes and books into it with a frantic energy. Her hands were shaking so badly that she struggled to zip it shut. She knew she had made her choice, and now she had to live with the consequences.Her first call was to Dan

The night after the confrontation felt endless. For Megan, sleep was an impossible luxury. She lay in Dante’s arms, the warmth of his embrace a stark contrast to the cold dread that had taken root in her heart. She had done it. She had pushed away her parents and, in a moment of reckless desperation, her best friend. The weight of her decisions pressed down on her, stealing her breath. She kept replaying Queen’s words, a painful echo in the quiet apartment: "You want her to throw away everything she's worked for?"The morning brought no relief. The silence in the apartment was heavy, broken only by the soft click of Dante's laptop keys as he worked on a new project. He was trying to be normal, to create a sense of routine and stability, but the air between them was thick with what had been left unsaid. Megan felt a chasm opening between them, not of love, but of unspoken anxieties. She saw the worry lines etched on Dante's forehead, the way his

The silence that fell between Megan and Dante after their strained dinner was a heavy, palpable thing, a chasm of unspoken words and simmering frustrations. Megan, her heart a tangled knot of hurt and exhaustion, had retreated to the sanctuary of their bedroom. The soft click of the door closing behind her seemed to seal her off from the argument, but not from the emotional fallout. She stood by the window, her mind replaying Dante’s words—"submissive," "my direction," "the husband." The concepts, so foreign and jarring, grated against her sense of self, against the woman her father had raised her to be. Dante entered the room, his movements slow and deliberate. The sound of his footsteps, usually a comfort, now sent a ripple of nerves through her. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to bridge the silence with an empty apology. He simply closed the door and stood there, his back to her, a man lost in his own thoughts. Megan watc

The coffee table arrived on a Tuesday, a silent, beautiful act of rebellion. Megan had ordered it with a credit card she’d kept separate from their joint account, a small fund from a graduation gift that Dante didn't know about. It was rustic, a slab of reclaimed wood with dark metal legs, a piece of raw, imperfect beauty that she knew Dante would hate. As she unboxed it, her hands trembling with a mix of fear and defiance, the familiar sense of hopelessness that had become her constant companion lifted, replaced by a nervous flutter of exhilaration. This was hers. This was a choice she had made.Dante came home late, the exhaustion of his new role etched on his face. He saw the box in the living room first, then the table itself, a stark, foreign object in the middle of their carefully curated, modern space. The smile that had been a practiced fixture on his face all evening vanished."What is that?" he asked, his voice flat, dangerously quiet.Megan’s heart hammered against her ri

The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting a soft, golden light on their bedroom. But for Megan, the room was shrouded in a shadow of profound uncertainty. She lay awake in Dante's arms, his hand resting gently on her stomach, his breath a warm, steady rhythm against her neck. The moment she had blurted out the news of her pregnancy, the emotional storm that had been raging between them had vanished, replaced by a radiant, almost blinding joy from Dante. He had been so ecstatic, so full of promises and affirmations, that it left no room for her own swirling fears.Dante woke, his eyes finding hers with a love so pure and overwhelming that it felt like another form of control. "Good morning, my love," he murmured, his voice husky. "And good morning to our little one." He kissed her forehead, then her lips, a tenderness in his touch that felt both sincere and suffocating. "I'm going to be a daddy."That day marked the beginning of a new