Lahat ng Kabanata ng THE WIFE YOU LEFT: Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

AVERY’S POV:It burned.Every line of that mysterious tattoo seared into my spine like fire biting my skin. The pain was relentless, curling through my nerves, refusing to let up. I wasn’t sure if it was the nightmare or the damn ink itself, but when I jolted awake, my body was drenched in sweat, my breath coming too fast, too shallow. I curled into the nearest corner, pressing my back against the wall as if that would steady me. My throat was dry, scratchy, like I’d swallowed sandpaper. I needed water—desperately—but nothing was in reach. What was happening to me? My mind was a battlefield, torn between reality and the fragments of my dream—the bloodied man in my arms. The cold, sticky wetness of his lifeless body seemed so real. The images wouldn’t leave me, wouldn’t stop replaying behind my eyes, a nightmare bleeding into wakefulness. God, was I losing it? Hallucinating? Imagining things? Physically, I was already a wreck. The last thing I needed was a spiritual crisis on

AVERY’S POV:I was tempted to tell her the truth. To say, "Your father did this. He’s trying to erase me, piece by piece, until I don’t recognize myself anymore." But I couldn’t. So I smiled, forcing lightness into my tone. "I went to the salon and got it done," I lied. She tilted her head, considering me. "I want to get my hair done too," she said thoughtfully. "So I can be pretty like you." Her words struck a sad chord inside me. If only she knew how much of myself I was losing with every change Axel forced on me. But looking at her now—bright-eyed, full of trust—I couldn’t bring myself to shatter the moment. "Maybe one day, darling," I said softly, running my fingers through her ponytail. Maybe one day, when I was free, I'll go back to my natural hair."You don’t need to change a thing, Sea," I told her, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "You’re already perfect just the way you are." Considering my words, she gave a satisfied nod. "Okay! But if I ever do change

AXEL’S POV:I stepped out of the helicopter, my boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. The moment I did, an unsettling silence pressed in around me. The wind barely stirred the brittle grass, and the only sound was the distant hum of the helicopter blades slowing to a stop. The GPS had led us here, but this couldn’t be the right place. It didn’t make sense. The coordinates pointed to an active location, yet everything around me was abandoned—rundown houses with shattered windows, rusted fences barely standing, and trees stripped bare like skeletons. No movement. No sound. No sign of life. My jaw tightened. Was this a mistake? Should I turn back? The thought lingered, but I shoved it aside. I wasn’t the kind of man who retreated. If this was a setup, then so be it—I would deal with it the way I always did. I turned to the pilot. “Stay with the chopper. Keep it ready.” He nodded, and I moved. I slid a knife into the holster at my ankle, checked my gun before tucking it away

AVERY’S POV:Routine had become my safe space—predictable, comfortable, and yet, in the quiet moments, I felt something creeping in. Restlessness. A hollow kind of boredom. I told myself I liked this life, this peace, but deep down, I knew what was missing. Axel. It wasn’t just his presence—it was the way he made the world feel more alive. The way everything around him burned with danger and excitement. And yet, it had been over a week with no sign of him or Ryan. Nothing. I told myself not to care. I wasn’t his wife, wasn’t obligated to worry. But the silence stretched too long, pressing against my chest like a weight I refused to acknowledge. Instead, I poured myself into the people still here—Sea, Baron, even Katie and her mute entourage who communicated mostly through stiff nods. Sea, especially, had become my shadow. My best friend. We spent hours in the kitchen, making a mess of Axel’s pristine counters, flour coating our faces as we experimented with recipes she found

AXEL’S POV:I had eyes and ears everywhere, so the moment I left that godforsaken pit of horror, I tracked Ryan down. We flew out immediately, landing on the outskirts of his location, though I knew full well that his attackers would’ve already been alerted to our arrival. They’d be watching, waiting. The sky was burning red from the fires, thick columns of smoke rolling toward the heavens like the battlefield itself was screaming. The stench of gunpowder clogged my throat, mixing with the iron tang of blood that had long since stopped fazing me. Bullets tore through the air, whizzing past with deadly precision, chipping the concrete walls of the fortified mansion ahead. Ryan crouched behind a wrecked car, his knuckles white around his rifle. His men—what was left of them—were taking cover behind whatever they could find: bodies, debris, smoldering remains of vehicles. The battlefield looked like a goddamn war zone. I stormed over, firing off a few rounds before ducking beside h