All Chapters of THE ABANDONED WIFE: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The morning after the celebration was a quiet and sober affair. The last echoes of Dante's champagne-fueled exuberance had faded, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than before. The half-empty bottles on the counter and the discarded paper plates were a testament to the hollow performance of the previous night. Megan moved through the apartment like a ghost, her heart a heavy, leaden weight in her chest. The small, private comfort she had found in her phone call to her mother was now a distant memory, a fleeting moment of warmth in a cold and lonely world.Dante, however, was a man transformed. He bustled through the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy, completely oblivious to the strained atmosphere. The celebration, in his mind, had been a resounding success. He had shown his friends that he was a family man, a successful provider, and a husband on the precipice of an even greater future. The awkward silences and tense glances from Ben and Mike had

The third trimester arrived, and with it came a new kind of terror for Megan. Her body, once her own, was now a swollen, unwieldy vessel, her once-carefree movements replaced by a slow, deliberate waddle. The mood swings were worse, a constant, unpredictable storm of tears and rage. All she wanted was to be left alone, to curl up in the quiet sanctity of her apartment and wait for the storm to pass.Dante, however, had other plans. His new business deal, secured thanks to a little help from Bill, had been finalized, and he was on top of the world. The pregnancy was now visible, a prominent swell beneath Megan's clothes, and he was obsessed with showing it off. The baby bump was a symbol of his success, a testament to his prowess as a provider and a man, and he wanted the world to see it."We have to go out, my love," he insisted one Friday evening, his face alight with an uncontainable joy. "A big dinner. A celebration. I want to show you off. I

In the aftermath of the storm, a quiet, unfamiliar rhythm settled into their lives. The emotional wreckage of Megan's outburst had finally cleared the air, leaving behind not a void of anger, but a space for something new to grow. Dante, with a humility that was as foreign to him as it was to Megan, had stepped back. The days of him dictating their lives were over. The grand plans for the suburban house were gone, replaced by an unspoken understanding that their future would be a collaboration, not a command.Megan opted to stay at home for the rest of her pregnancy. The idea of jumping back into the job market, of facing the stress of interviews and the professional world, felt overwhelming. Her job, for now, was to care for herself and the life growing within her. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and the thought of navigating professional challenges while her body underwent such a profound transformation was more than she could bear.Dante didn’t argue. He listene

The city streets, a blur of neon and headlights, offered no solace. Dante walked for hours, the cool night air a stark contrast to the burning inferno of shame and despair raging inside him. He was a man adrift, a king who had lost his kingdom in a single, unguarded moment of weakness. The image of Megan's terrified face, of her hands instinctively protecting her unborn child from him, played on a relentless loop in his mind. The sound of the lock clicking into place, a final, heartbreaking act of self-preservation, echoed in the hollow chambers of his soul.He had always prided himself on his control. Control of his career, his finances, his life. But in that one moment, he had lost control of the one thing that mattered most: himself. He had become the monster Megan's family had always feared he was, a man capable of violence, a man c

The morning sun cast long, unforgiving shadows across the apartment's living room, illuminating the wreckage of a life built on sand. The discarded remnants of the celebratory dinner—a half-empty bottle of champagne, a crumpled tablecloth, and the sad, congealed mess of salmon on the floor—were a brutal testament to the previous night’s collapse.Dante stood in the middle of it all, a man in a rumpled suit, his body heavy with exhaustion and a shame that had settled deep into his bones. He hadn't slept. He had spent the entire night on the couch, replaying the terrifying scene over and over, his mind, a relentless loop of regret.He heard the Foderts’ car pull up outside, the sound of the engine shutting off a knell for the life he had known. The moments stretched into an agonizing eternity before the