All Chapters of HATE ME, HUSBAND: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Ian’s POVThe bedroom door opened.I had changed out of the suit, showered, and was already in bed when she walked in — still in her wedding dress, her hair slightly less perfect than it had been at the cathedral, her expression carrying the particular energy of someone who had been managing themselves all day and was running low on reserves.She stopped when she saw me.“Why are you here?”I looked at her from where I was lying on the bed. “Because it’s my room. And my house.” I paused. “Do I need to remind you of that?”She looked around the room — at the one bed, at me on top of it, at the general situation — and I could see the calculation happening behind her eyes.“What do we do about the bed?” she asked.“It’s a king size.” I pulled the duvet slightly. “We share it. You stay on your side. I stay on mine. Simple.”“I don’t trust you.” She crossed her arms. “Get out of the bed.”I stared at her.“Let me be very clear about something.” I kept my voice flat because I was genuinely

Layla’s POVI lay face down on the pillow and stared at nothing.Hailey had sent me seventeen emails overnight. I had read four of them, responded to two, and given up on the rest because the pillow was soft and the morning was warm and the idea of being a functional CEO felt very far away.How had my life ended up here?I had a plan. I had always had a plan — a clear, specific, completely reasonable plan for how my life was going to go. Build the company. Grow Thompson Jewelry into something my grandfather would be proud of. And somewhere in the middle of all of that, fall in love. Properly. With someone who chose me the way I intended to choose them — freely, completely, because there was no one else they would rather be with.Simple. Achievable. Mine.And then my Grandpa had sat behind his desk and rearranged everything in about four minutes.I pushed myself up from the pillow and slid my feet into my flip flops.The balcony doors were open. I dragged myself toward them and stepped

Layla’s POVI felt the tap and turned around.A man was standing behind me, looking down with an easy smile on his face. Tall, broad shouldered, dark hair, the kind of handsome that was immediately obvious and completely uncomplicated.Not even close to Ian though.I blinked.Really? my inner voice said. That is what you are thinking right now?I ignored it.“Who are you?” I asked.“I’m sorry.” He crouched down to my level, his hands loose at his sides, his expression open rather than threatening. “Did I scare you?”“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” I said honestly. “I didn’t hear you coming at all. The beach is quiet and I had my eyes closed so yes — you startled me. Even if I didn’t show it.”“You really didn’t show it,” he said, with what sounded like genuine admiration. He sat down beside me on the sand — not close enough to be invasive, just close enough for a conversation — and I shifted slightly without thinking about it. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”“You still have

Layla’s POVI woke up earlier than usual.This was not by choice. My body had apparently decided that eight-thirty was a reasonable time to be awake on a Sunday, which I considered a personal betrayal given that I had arrived back in New York late the previous night and had been looking forward to sleeping until at least ten.I sat up and looked at Ian’s side of the bed.Neat. Untouched. Either he had made it himself before leaving or he had not slept in it at all.I noted this and filed it away without examining it too closely.We had landed last night after a long flight back from Bora Bora. I had maintained the silent treatment all the way home — through the airport, through the car ride, through the process of coming back into this house and settling back into the reality of being married to Ian Lawson in New York City rather than in French Polynesia. He had said a few things during the journey that I had declined to respond to. By the time we got home the silence had become its ow

Layla’s POV“What update do you have, Hailey?” I asked.A pause.The kind of pause that tells you the answer before the words arrive.“Mr. Scott has refused to carry on with the deal, Layla.”“What?” The word came out louder than I intended.“Yeah.” Another pause. “And you won’t believe who is behind it.”I sat forward in my chair. “Who?”“Your husband.”The dining room was completely silent.“Ian Lawson?” I said. It came out as a question — the kind you ask not because you need clarification but because you need a moment to absorb what you have just heard.“Yes. Ian Lawson.” Hailey’s voice was careful — not her usual bright energy, something more measured. “After rejecting my visit for weeks, Mr. Scott finally agreed to see me. And he said he cannot carry on with the deal. The shareholders are against it.”“So where does Ian come in?” I asked. My voice was steady. I was not sure how.“Two years ago the Scott Corporation faced a serious business crisis. You know this already.” She paus