Semua Bab The CEO'S Dead Wife: A Marriage Made In Hell!: Bab 11 - Bab 20

ABIGAIL'S POVThe knock wasn’t even a knock.It was a bang, it was sharp, impatient, entitled.I froze halfway down the staircase, my fingers gripping the railing as the heavy front doors swung open on their own. The guards hadn’t even moved yet. The woman who stepped in didn’t wait for permission, didn’t pause, didn’t acknowledge anyone. She simply strode in like she owned the entire mansion, her heels echoing loudly across the glossy marble floor.She looked… expensive.That was the first word that crossed my mind. Her hair was jet-black, sleek and perfect. Her gown clung to her curves like it was tailored on her skin. Two bodyguards followed her, they were wide-shouldered, stone-faced men who didn’t look like they flinched at gunshots.I swallowed hard.“E-excuse me,” I stammered, because it felt like the right thing to say even though she hadn’t even looked at me. “Who… who are you?”The woman’s steps halted. She turned her head slowly—so slowly that the movement alone felt like a

ABIGAIL'S POVMorning came like a punishment.My eyes opened slowly, reluctantly, as if my body wasn’t ready to face another day of confusion, fear, and questions that had no answers. The first thing I felt was the heaviness—deep in my bones, weighing down every limb. Pregnancy fatigue. I’d read about it somewhere. Maybe in my journal. The one someone had tried to burn.I stayed in bed for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling as sunlight spilled through the curtains in pale gold streaks. My muscles were stubborn, refusing to obey me, and I pulled the blanket over my stomach, trying to coax myself awake.“Just five more minutes,” I mumbled.But five minutes turned into ten, then fifteen—until reality forced its way back into my mind. Alexander was somewhere in this house. And Richardson was gone. And Joselyn was unpredictable. And someone had destroyed my journal.With a tired grunt, I pushed myself up and swung my legs over the bed.The moment my foot touched the floor. White-hot

ABIGAIL'S POVAlexander didn’t say much as he carried me from the estate. My body ached, my ankle throbbed, and my heart refused to calm from the adrenaline. I was still trembling when he set me down inside what I realized was one of his secret apartments.The place smelled of leather and old books, with a faint trace of his cologne lingering in the air. I froze, gripping the edge of the sofa, wary.“This is… your apartment?” I asked, voice small.He nodded, pulling a chair closer. “Yes. One of several. Safe, quiet. Nobody will bother you here.”I swallowed hard, unsure if I should trust him, unsure if I wanted to. But the exhaustion that pulled at my body won over. I simply slumped onto the couch, wincing as I adjusted my swollen ankle.Alexander immediately knelt in front of me. “Let me take care of that,” he said softly. He removed my shoe carefully, his large hands brushing my skin. I shivered from the closeness of him, the raw heat that seemed to radiate from him.“You have to be

ABIGAIL'S POVThe morning sunlight seeped through the blinds, casting long stripes across the floor, but it did nothing to warm the fire that raged inside me. My reflection in the mirror looked pale, tired, and angry—angry at myself, angry at Alexander, angry at the helplessness I felt whenever he was near.I paced back and forth across the room, my bare feet pressing into the cold wooden floor. My hands trembled as I twisted my hair into a messy bun, hating myself for the flutter in my stomach when I remembered his hands, his scent, the way his lips had pressed against mine. I felt shameless. A fool. How could I, his cousin’s wife, let myself be pulled into such madness?I slammed my fists against the dresser, breathing heavily. “Shameless… completely shameless,” I muttered to myself. The words stung my ears like nails scratching glass, but they were true. I had let him kiss me. I had kissed him back. And now, no matter how much I wanted to convince myself otherwise, I knew I couldn’

ABIGAIL'S POVThe library smelled faintly of polished wood and old books, a scent that usually calmed me but tonight, it only made my pulse pound faster. The kiss. That kiss. I could still feel it on my lips, the heat of his body pressed against mine, the desperate fire in his eyes. I shivered at the memory, though I knew I had to act normal.The sound, the soft scrape of a mop against the floor had made me break free from him. Alexander’s hands lingered near mine, his chest heaving, his gaze locking on me as though he wanted to say a thousand things at once, but couldn’t.“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “We—”I didn’t wait to hear him finish. The moment the maid walked in, humming a cleaning tune, I muttered, “I was just… looking for a book,” and hurried toward the door, careful to keep my face calm, even though my body felt like it had just run a marathon.Alexander didn’t follow. He didn’t need to. The pull between us was raw, magnetic, impossible to ignore—but he was restrai