All Chapters of THE CEO'S MISTREATED WIFE : Chapter 1 - Chapter 7

"She's nothing. Ignore her." I heard my husband's voice. I should be excited because I've been waiting for him to go home since 2 PM. It's already 7 PM and I'm almost done cooking our dinner. His words hit me like a punch in my stomach, taking the air out of my lungs. I chose to leave what I was doing and walk towards the door to check. Istopped at the kitchen door, my hand shaking as I held the spatula I had been using to make dinner that I hoped he would finally share with me tonight. Upon peeking, I saw my husband and he was not alone. Rogue was kissing a woman in the middle of our living room. He kissed her with a passion that he never showed me. He wouldn't even touch me, as if I had a disease that could get him infected. I saw their kiss turn wild through a blur of hot, stinging tears formed in my eyes. They moved with a wild heat, taking over the space as if I were a ghost haunting my own life. Rogue didn't just forget I was there; he used my presence to humiliate

As Rogue’s command echoed in the empty kitchen, I was left with the debris of a life I no longer recognized. I cleaned everything—every plate, every stain, every shattered remnant of my pride. When the house finally fell into a haunting silence, I retreated to the master bedroom, clutching a chemical ice pack to my chest like a lifeline.I sat on the edge of the cold bathtub, finally letting the silk robe slip from my shoulders. I couldn't help but pity the woman staring back at me in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed a sickly red, and my eyes were so swollen they felt like lead.The dark circles under them were bruises of a different kind—the mark of a thousand sleepless nights. My skin, once vibrant, was now a ghostly, translucent pale; a side effect of the gilded cage Rogue had built for me. I was a business graduate, a woman of intellect, yet I hadn't felt the sun on my face in weeks.I pressed the ice to my arm, wincing as the cold bit into the purple finger-shaped marks Rogue h

The sunlight didn’t just wake me; it executed the morning. It cut through the heavy velvet curtains like a serrated blade, exposing the wreckage of a room that had become a crime scene.I reached out, my fingers trembling as they brushed the cold, expensive silk where Rogue should have been. The space was hollow, retaining none of his heat, only the lingering, oppressive scent of strong vanilla. He was always gone before the shame could settle, leaving me to drown in the suffocating silence of a house that felt less like a home and more like a gilded cage.I tried to sit up, but a jagged, white-hot scream of pain radiated from my core. My thighs are trembling.I collapsed back into the pillows, my breath hitching in a throat that felt like it had been scraped raw. Every muscle was a map of his cruelty—a reminder that he had used me not as a wife, but as a vessel for a rage he couldn’t name and needs he refused to acknowledge.I stayed motionless, staring at the center of the bed. Th

The next evening, the silence of the house was shattered not by Rogue’s key in the lock, but by a woman’s high-pitched, melodic laughter. I was in the kitchen, my fingers still bandaged from the burns of the night before, trying to swallow a piece of dry toast. My heart seized. He wasn't alone. Rogue walked into the living room, but he wasn't looking for me. He was focused on the woman draped over his arm—a petite brunette with sharp, cat-like eyes and a dress that cost more than my father’s remaining dignity. This wasn't the woman from the office. This was someone new, someone younger. "Rogue?" I stepped into the doorway, my voice barely a thread. The woman stopped, her eyes raking over my faded apron and the messy bun I hadn't had the energy to fix. She didn't look shocked. She looked amused. "Oh, Rogue... is this the 'staff' you mentioned? She looks a bit... haggard, don't you think?" Rogue didn't even glance at me. He was busy pouring two glasses of crystal-clear gin at the b