All Chapters of The CEO'S Dead Wife: A Marriage Made In Hell!: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

RICHARDSON'S POVI had already been unstable before Santos opened his mouth.That was the truth I didn’t want to face.The night before had cracked something in me, watching a woman die at my feet, watching Joselyn’s smile sharpen instead of soften, realizing too late that madness didn’t just touch that family, it lived in them. Santos. Joselyn. Same eyes. Same cruelty. Same appetite for chaos disguised as control.The madness ran in their blood. And I had been stupid enough to think I could keep a safe distance from it.One deal! Just one deal landed in this mess and ever since Joselyn wouldn't just let go. I didn't know what other languages I'd use to explain that all it was, was just sex and nothing more.Santos stood across from me now, his presence swallowing the room without effort. He didn’t pace. Didn’t fidget. Men like him never did. Violence sat comfortably in his bones, like a second spine.“I heard,” he said calmly, folding his hands behind his back, “that my daughter was

ABIGAIL'S POV I woke to a chorus of machines before I even felt my own body. The rhythmic beeping, the hiss of oxygen, the soft click of the IV pump. My limbs were heavy, impossibly heavy, as though gravity itself had doubled overnight. I tried to move my arm, and it felt like lifting lead. My legs didn’t respond at all at first.I opened my eyes slowly. The room was stark, too quiet, too bare. The white walls pressed in on me. The sheets were crisp and hospital-like, but even crisp sheets can’t hide the sterility of a space designed to control rather than comfort.I squinted at the clock on the bedside table. Morning, it said. Sunlight should have flooded the room. But the windows were darkened. Thick blackout shades cut the world off. A deliberate choice. I felt it in my gut before I had the strength to sit up.“What the fuck!” My voice cracked, hoarse from disuse. My throat burned with dryness, and I realized I hadn’t swallowed since the last time I remembered anything. My hand pr

FIONA'S POV Six days and I've been on the same thing.I've worked day and night and yet nothing seem to be making sense. But at least today seems to be giving me something to work with. I worked across six screens at once, my hands steady even as my thoughts fractured into shards I refused to look at directly.The office lights were off. I preferred it that way. Darkness made the screens feel sharper, more honest. Each window glowed with a different jurisdiction, a different legal language, a different lie I was telling with my own name attached to it.Injunction filed.Emergency stay submitted.Temporary guardianship challenge logged.I filed them in three jurisdictions deliberately. I knew two would be rejected outright. But one would slip through unnoticed, buried in backlog and misrouted authority, just long enough to buy hours.I need more time to pull this off before I get caught and all of this will be jeopardize.Everything I was doing was illegal and if I get caught I'd be

RICHARDSON'S POV I stepped closer the moment I saw her trying to wheel herself away.She looked weak, her hands trembling slightly on the metal rail, her shoulders slumped from whatever they had pumped into her veins but the determination on her face told me she would drag that gurney across the entire hospital if she had to.“Stop,” I said quietly.She did not.Her jaw tightened as she pushed again, the wheels scraping faintly against the floor.“Abigail.”Still nothing.I closed the distance between us in two strides and reached for the side of the gurney to steady it before she hurt herself.The reaction was immediate.She turned her head and spat straight at me.The saliva hit my cheek.For a second, neither of us moved.“Don’t touch me,” she said, her voice hoarse but burning with rage. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”I wiped my face slowly with the back of my hand. I deserved that. Probably worse.“I’m not here to fight you,” I said.“Then go away.”“I can’t.”Her eyes blazed.

CHAPTER 119ABIGAIL The next day I was taken to a wellness retreat.Even as the car rolled through the wrought-iron gates, I knew the name was a lie meant to soften something ugly. Places that were truly meant for healing never hid behind that much security.The building sat on a stretch of manicured land so perfect it looked artificial. Low white walls. Tall glass panels that reflected the sky. A narrow stream curved through the property, the water moving slowly over smooth stones arranged with obsessive precision. Somewhere nearby, wind chimes sang with delicate restraint.It was quiet.The kind of silence that did not exist naturally, the kind created when people were trained not to raise their voices.Two escorts walked on either side of me as we stepped out of the vehicle. They wore soft grey uniforms instead of tactical gear, but the way their eyes tracked every movement told me they were not nurses.One of them gestured toward the entrance.“Please come with us, Mrs. Hale.”I