Lahat ng Kabanata ng CEO's Only Wife: Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

He waited for the car to finish and went to the office to delay the time. He made a quick call home to check that she was okay until he finished his lunch with Jed. A strong urge wanted him to ask her some important questions, but another part of him wondered if he wanted to know the truth. He may have fallen in love with her, but the final limit would not change. He could not give her a stability and children. After all, if she stayed, she would end up hating him. A terror swept over him with those thoughts.Jed was waiting in the corner of the bar. He stared intently at the man who shared his bloodline. Money and laziness seemed to suit him. His hair had been sunburned in the Mexican sun, and the distinct tan lines on his face gave him a personality trait he didn't really have. He was a tall man, and knew how to dress. Today he wears a red Ralph Lauren sweater, black pants, and leather loafers.His dark eyes glowed slightly from the alcohol. Perhaps a cocktail before he went to see

He carefully pulled her hand away from his and took a step back toward the kitchen counter. "What did I say?She took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant. We're having a baby."He seemed to be searching for words. "But it can't be. I'm on birth control pills." He paused. "Is not it?""That's right. But these things do happen from time to time. Actually the doctor said–""How convenient."She blinked. He looked at her as if she had turned into a two-headed monster. Worry was seeping into her. She backed away from him and sat down at the dining table. "I know this is shocking. Even for me. But a baby is coming and we need to talk about it."He remained silent, and she spoke softly. "I wasn't prepared for this. I don't plan on making this a real marriage. But I love you, Eric. I'm waiting for the right time to tell you.And I'm sorry to tell you in this situation, but I don't want to wait any longer. Please say something. Anything is fine."She watched as her husband's face changed. The man she

Revenge, Eric reminded himself. That's the point of all this. Revenge, twelve years of planning and only a few months to start. As a slave trainer, he trained at least twenty girls. Some are voluntary, offering themselves as a pleasure slave to escape poverty, sacrificing freedom in return for security. Others were the daughters of impoverished peasants, forced to come to him in order to lighten the load and exchange for a dowry. A few more were the fourth or fifth wives of patriarchs and bankers, sent by their husbands to learn how to satisfy the different "taste" of their husbands. But for this particular slave, whom he had his eye on from across the busy street – she was different. She was not willing, not coerced, nor was she sent to him. She was an object to be completely subdued. Eric tried to convince Raymond that he could train any type of girl. That they were best prepared for such a serious, potentially dangerous mission, but Raymond was unmoved. He himself had waited a lo

I woke up with a terrible headache and at the same time noticed two things: it was dark around and I wasn't alone. Are we moving? My vision blurred, my eyes rolling, almost instinctively, to regain my balance, sensing something familiar. I was in a truck, my whole body sprawled on the floor. Panicked, I tried to move my entire body, only to find that my every movement was extremely slow and futile. My hands were tied behind my back, and my legs were free but heavy. Again, I tried to adjust my eyes in the dark. Both rear windows are covered with pitch-black glass, but even in the gloom, I can still discern four distinct shapes. Their voices tell me they are men. They talked to each other in a language I didn't understand. If you listen closely, it's a quick series of speeches, short and clear. It's a bit dull, very strange... maybe it's a Middle Eastern accent. Is that important? My brain said yes, that's the clue. But then that small consolation also slipped away. Seeing icebergs in

Panic gripped me. “What the hell are you doing?” There was a pause, and then his amused voice spoke. “I told you, give you a clean shower.” I opened my mouth to respond when the first wave of cold water touched my feet. Startled, I squealed. While I tried miserably to crawl out of the tub by rolling over to the edge, the water grew warmer and the kidnapper lifted me back to where I was. "I don't want to take a bath. Release me.” I tried to remove the blindfold, repeatedly slapping myself in the face because my loose arms refused to obey. The kidnapper tried to hold back his laughter but failed. "I don't care if you like it or not, you need to shower." Feeling his hand on my shoulder, I mustered all my strength to fight back. My arms swung back and “landed” where I thought was his face or neck. His fingers grip my hair, pulling my head back at an odd angle. “You want me to act rough too?” he growled close to my ear. When he didn't get an answer, he squeezed his hand even harder,