All Chapters of The CEO'S Dead Wife: A Marriage Made In Hell!: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

ABIGAIL'S POV The house was too quiet.This was the kind that pressed against your ears until you could hear your own pulse, the kind that made every shadow look deliberate, every locked door feel like a decision someone else had made for you.Richardson had been gone since dawn.No explanation. No timeline.Just absence.I stood by the tall window in my room, watching the gray afternoon drag itself across the sky. Somewhere beyond those iron gates, the world was still moving while I remained suspended inside this carefully curated prison disguised as protection.A soft knock came at the door.Before I could answer, it opened.Fiona slipped inside, shutting it quietly behind her.One look at her face told me something had shifted.Fiona was many things but today there was tension in the way she held her shoulders, a heaviness behind her eyes that made my stomach tighten.She didn’t greet me.Didn’t waste time with pleasantries.Instead, she reached into her coat and pulled out a smal

ABIGAIL'S POV They called it a therapeutic privilege, but then I knew exactly what it was. It was a leash they could shorten whenever I pulled too hard.The room they gave me access to wasn’t mine. Nothing here was. It was a neutral office inside the compound, and a woman sitting three feet behind me pretending not to watch my hands. She wore the soft colors they always chose for people assigned to “observe” pale blue sweater, low voice, slow blinks.“You’ll have forty minutes,” she said gently, tapping her tablet. “This is strictly correspondence related to your foundation. No personal outreach. No legal filings.”I didn’t turn around. “Of course.”She hesitated, as if waiting for gratitude. When she didn’t get it, she stepped back.The terminal came alive with a quiet hum, folders sliding into view one by one. Grant requests. Partner updates. Archived donor communications. On the surface, it was exactly what they said it was, busywork meant to soothe me, to remind me of the life I

ABIGAIL'S POV Dinner had gone cold before I realized neither of us was eating anymore. The plates sat between us untouched, steam long gone, the food reduced to props neither of us seemed willing to acknowledge. Richardson sat across from me, his posture rigid, his attention divided between the doorways, the windows, the corners of the room, as though danger might materialize out of thin air if he looked away for even a second. I watched him for several moments, memorizing the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers curled slightly against the table whenever he heard a sound that didn’t belong.I had rehearsed what I wanted to say all day. Every version of it sounded wrong. But silence was starting to feel worse than any reaction he could give me.“I want to see Tristan,” I said finally.The words landed between us with more weight than I expected. For the first few seconds, Richardson didn’t react at all. He didn’t look up, didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. It was as if the sentence

ABIGAIL'S POVI waited in Richardson’s room far longer than I should have.At first, I told myself it made sense. He was avoiding me after our argument. He needed space. He was probably dealing with something urgent. But as the minutes turned into hours and the bed beside me stayed untouched, unease settled deep in my chest and refused to move.The room felt different without him in it. Every sound from the hallway made me look up, expecting the door to open, expecting him to walk in and ask why I was sitting there in the dark like this. But he never came.Eventually, I gave up.I went back to my room, closed the door, and leaned against it for a long moment, pressing my forehead to the wood as I tried to steady my breathing. I felt like my thoughts were spiraling faster than I could keep up with them, every possibility feeding into the next until I could barely tell fear from paranoia.I needed to talk to someone before I completely lost it.I picked up my phone and called Alexander.

ABIGAIL'S POVThe sound came again, unmistakable this time.A footstep.I turned so fast my breath caught in my throat and there he was.Richardson stood a few feet away from us, half-shadowed by the trees, his presence so sudden and heavy it felt like the air itself had shifted. The shovel slipped from my hands before I even realized I had let go of it, hitting the ground with a dull, accusing thud that echoed far louder than it should have in the quiet of the night.Avion and I exchanged a single look.It wasn’t panic exactly. It was that split-second understanding that comes when two people know they’ve been caught in something that can’t be explained away easily. My pulse roared in my ears, my chest tight as if my ribs were closing in around my heart.No one spoke.The night stretched.Finally, Avion cleared her throat, straightened her shoulders, and said, “Good evening, Richardson.”He didn’t even look at her.His eyes were locked on me, dark and sharp and burning with something