Semua Bab The CEO'S Dead Wife: A Marriage Made In Hell!: Bab 51 - Bab 60

ABIGAIL'S POVI sat across from Georgina in the private lounge of the Rosalind Country Club, legs crossed, fingers curled around the stem of my glass. The soft gold chandelier light made everything seem warmer than it really was. Behind us, laughter floated from the dining hall and glasses chimed like windbells. Yet the air between Georgina and me was sharpened metal. This was the second time she had asked to see me.She smiled at me in that brittle, glitter-diamond way wealthy women did when they wanted something.I returned the smile.“Tell me more,” she said, leaning forward. “About this circle your PA mentioned yesterday. You called it… what?”“An exclusive wives’ club,” I answered softly, letting the phrase linger in the air like perfume. “Though ‘club’ is too small a word. It’s a world.”Her pupils dilated. Hook.I pretended nonchalance, brushing imaginary lint off my pale silk dress. “It’s not public. Not advertised. You can only get in through invitation only. And membership

ABIGAIL'S POVThe first thing I noticed wasn’t what Georgina said.It was what she stopped saying.She used to fill every silence with admiration, questions spilling out of her like a dam cracked open. She leaned forward when I spoke, nodded too eagerly, laughed half a second too late. Desperate people do that. Now she watched.Her smile still existed, still warm and practiced, but it no longer reached her eyes. Those eyes had sharpened and they were quite. They followed me the way hunters follow prey.I noticed it the moment I walked into the restaurant and felt the air shift.Georgina rose from her seat when she saw me, her posture impeccable, her beige silk dress hugging her frame like it was tailored to project innocence.“Ivory,” she said, kissing the air near my cheek. “You’re glowing.”I smiled easily. “You flatter me.”She pulled back slowly, her gaze flicking across my face, not lingering long enough to be obvious, but long enough to unsettle.We sat.The waiter poured wine.

ABIGAIL'S POV.Pressure did not always arrive loudly.Sometimes it crept in quietly, politely, the way an empty chair at a table screamed louder than an insult ever could.I noticed it first in the silence.For weeks, my calendar had been full without me trying, I had attended luncheons, private teas, gallery openings, discreet dinners hosted by women who were so desperate. Most of them came through Georgina. Then, suddenly, nothing.No invitations.No “thinking of you.”No idle check-ins disguised as politeness.When messages did come, they were clipped. Efficient. Cold.Busy week.We’ll reschedule.Another time.This was not good for the plan. Georgina was coming along real quick and all of a sudden that dumb bitch decided to be wise? What the actual fuck? I didn't have time for all of this. Soon she was definitely going to recognize me and that will be game over.I stared at my phone one evening, thumb hovering over the screen, and felt the truth settle into my bones.I was no lon

GEORGINA'S POVIt's been one whole weeks and yet no tangible information on Ivory. Frankly I'd just have to kill her without a reason because at this point she made me so unease and I do not like it. The irony of it all is the fact that everything kept leading back to that witch called Abigail! For Christ sake why wouldn't she just die and stay dead. Every since I took her out of the way she had managed to resurface every damn opportunity she gets. First she came back as Richardson's wife, only for Richardson's wife to going missing and here is another Ivory. Such tragedy.I knew time was no longer on my side.It wasn’t panic that told me that. It was pattern. Things had started moving in ways I didn’t plan. People were asking questions they shouldn’t be asking about my charity organizations. Names of people I had long killed were resurfacing. Files that should’ve stayed buried were being pulled up again and soon everyone will know if what I've done in the past. Ivory was at the cen

RICHARDSON'S POVThe news was playing in the background when I first heard Daniel’s name.I wasn’t watching it. I rarely did that anymore since I know the news these days are just things the politicians wanted us to know. The television stayed on in my office mostly for noise, something to fill the silence when my men came and went. But the moment the anchor said murder investigation and then followed it with Alexander, my hand stilled on the glass of whiskey.I turned slowly.They showed Alexander’s picture next. “—assistant found dead in an underground parking structure,” the anchor continued. “Sources claim the evidence points to Alexander—”I muted the sound.For a long moment, I just stared at the screen. This was definitely staged out to confuse people form the real chaos.I’d seen this kind of thing before. I've been in the game too long to know what was going to play out. Different cities. Different names. Same pattern. Kill someone expendable. Then line up the evidence just