All Chapters of The CEO'S Dead Wife: A Marriage Made In Hell!: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

ABIGAIL'S POVSleep never came.By dawn, the city looked deceptively normal again. News channels reported. “gas main rupture” three blocks from our temporary operations floor. The fire was contained. No civilian casualties.But we knew better.The Architect had erased one of his own extraction units in real time.Alexander hadn’t left my side all night. He stood by the wall of screens now, arms crossed, eyes bloodshot but sharp. Ava sat at the center console, rerouting data streams, her fingers flying across the keyboard with a kind of desperate precision.“They’re moving assets,” she said quietly.“How many?” I asked.She hesitated. “More than Tristan.”“Show me.”The city grid expanded across the largest monitor. Then another. Then three more.Colored markers blinked into existence. Red. Blue. Yellow.Each representing a flagged child within Project Heirline’s custody network.“They’re synchronized,” Ava whispered. “Look at the timestamps.”Alexander leaned closer. “That’s not rando

ABIGAIL'S POV.Operation Phantom was born at 4:12 a.m., in a room that smelled like stale coffee, overheated processors, and fear none of us were willing to name.I stood at the head of the table, palms braced against the cold surface, staring at the schematics Ava had projected across the wall. The abandoned pediatric rehabilitation center glowed in blue wireframe — corridors, stairwells, ventilation shafts, structural weak points. It looked harmless reduced to lines and numbers.It wasn’t.“We go in quiet,” I said, my voice steady in a way I didn’t entirely feel. “No perimeter breach alarms. No power disruptions. If Heirline senses an anomaly, they’ll relocate him before we even reach the second corridor.”Avion leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, dark eyes calculating. He had the kind of stillness that meant he was already ten moves ahead. “We’ll need two shadow teams,” he said. “One to ghost the east entrance, one to float near the underground access tunnel. No

ABIGAIL'S POVI froze in the corridor, my body taut with every ounce of tension, Tristan pressed tightly to my chest. The van’s engine roared like a beast as it began to pull away, dragging my son farther from my reach. My fingers curled around the blanket, knuckles white, and my chest heaved fear.I whispered sharply into the earpiece, my voice barely audible but full of command. “Alexander… now. Diversion. Activate everything. Now.”His voice crackled back, calm but urgent. “On it. I’m hitting the traffic grid, the security cams, the alarm systems. You have… maybe three, four minutes before they notice.”I bit back a curse. Three minutes. Three minutes to stop the people who had Tristan, who were trained to anticipate every move. Three minutes to save my son. I forced myself to breathe, slowly, deliberately, though every heartbeat was agony, pounding like a drum in my skull.I crouched slightly, my eyes scanning the corridor, every potential hiding spot for the operatives. My mind w

ABIGAIL'S POVThe warehouse doors slammed shut behind me with a sound that reverberated through my bones.For half a second, I couldn’t breathe.Tristan was in my arms. That was the only thing anchoring me to sanity. His tiny fingers curled into the fabric of my jacket, and when he let out a small, confused whimper, my heart cracked wide open.“I’ve got him,” I whispered into the comm, my voice tight but steady. “He’s in my arms.”“Abigail,” Alexander replied immediately, relief and warning braided together in his tone, “you’re not clear. Thermal signatures just spiked inside the structure. Multiple heat blooms. You’re not alone.”Of course I wasn’t.The cavernous warehouse stretched out before me — dark, hollow, industrial. The faint smell of rust and oil clung to the air. Somewhere water dripped, slow and rhythmic, echoing like a ticking clock. A single overhead lamp flickered to life, buzzing faintly as it cast a cone of harsh white light in the center of the space.Dust swirled th

ABIGAIL'S POVI didn’t remember deciding.My body moved before my mind could fracture under the weight of the choice.The cable snapped.The catwalk lurched violently. Tristan slipped and I dove.My fingers closed around the back of his blanket just as gravity tried to claim him. The force nearly wrenched my shoulder from its socket. Pain exploded down my arm, white-hot and blinding, but I locked my grip and dragged him toward me with every ounce of strength I had left.The operative holding him lost balance for half a second, just enough.I slammed into him with my shoulder, twisting my body so Tristan was shielded against my chest. The metal grating groaned beneath us. My knees scraped hard against the catwalk as I pulled Tristan fully into my arms.“I’ve got him,” I gasped.The words tore out of me like a prayer.But the threat wasn’t gone.The shadow above landed behind me with a metallic clang.The figure who had descended from the beams wasn’t neutral.He moved with precision, w