All Chapters of The Wife He Abandoned: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

"Why haven't you arrived yet, Leon?" Her voice came through the phone — sharp with a touch of irritation, but far more filled with worry. Leonard Ashcroft offered a faint smile, his breath coming slightly uneven as he wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder and pulled open the car door. "Complete gridlock here," he replied, glancing ahead at the road. An unbroken line of vehicles stood still along one of London's busiest thoroughfares. The city lights were flickering on, their glow reflected across the rain-slicked asphalt. "A lorry overturned up ahead. I won't make it there on time." On the other end of the line, Arabella Whitmore fell quiet for a moment. "It's our wedding anniversary, Leon." Her tone shifted — softer, deeper. And for some reason… it tightened something in Leonard's chest. "I know," he said quickly. "That's why I'm getting out now. I'll run to you." "You're serious?" "I won't make you wait alone tonight." There was a pause, then Arabella's gentle laugh

Arabella Whitmore’s voice was hoarse, little more than a whisper. Yet it was enough to make Leonard Ashcroft stop mid-step, pulling back. He fell silent. Seconds ticked by. Far too long for such a simple reply. But at last, Leonard nodded faintly. “I’m here.” The words came — yet his eyes said otherwise. Arabella looked at him, or at least tried to. Her vision was blurred. Everything around her felt like shattered glass that could never be put back whole. Yet one thing she felt with absolute certainty — something had shifted. Not within herself. Within Leonard. “Why…” her lips trembled, “why are you pulling away…?” It was such a simple question. But it struck him harder than he could bear. He held his breath, hands clenched at his sides. “I’m not —” The sentence died. He did not know how to finish it. Perhaps because he did not truly understand himself. Or perhaps… he understood all too well. “The doctor said you need rest,” he cut in finally, his voice turning flat and guar

The night in London felt colder than it should. City lights glittered beyond the tall glass windows of an exclusive lounge. Soft music played low in the background, nearly lost beneath the clink of crystal and the murmur of quiet conversation. Leonard Ashcroft sat in the far corner, leaning back in a dark leather chair. A glass of whisky stood untouched before him. The ice had nearly melted away, yet he had not taken a single sip. His gaze was hollow. As though his mind had been left somewhere far removed from here. Footsteps drew near. Someone sat across from him without preamble. Sebastian Rowe — Leonard’s oldest friend. The only person close enough to see the side of him the world never witnessed. “You look like a man who has lost something,” Sebastian said evenly, though his eyes studied Leonard intently. Leonard breathed out slowly. “More than that.” Sebastian lifted an eyebrow. “This is about your wife, isn’t it?” He let the question hang, deliberate. The name settled

The news spread early that morning — cold, certain, leaving no room for doubt. Arabella Whitmore was gone. So it stated plainly in the death certificate signed by the hospital administration — documents neatly prepared, legally valid, the fruit of a secret agreement between Sebastian and the medical team he trusted entirely. Sebastian stood in a quiet corner, glancing at his phone screen before slipping it away. Everything was in place. No flaw remained that could unravel the truth. To the world, Arabella had departed forever. Only he — and the woman herself — knew that a new life had only just begun. At the Ashcroft residence, a sombre haze hung over the grand drawing room. A dark wooden casket stood at its centre, draped in white silk. There was no body inside — Sebastian alone knew that — yet to everyone gathered there, it held the remains of the woman who had once been part of this family. Margaret Ashcroft sat in the principal chair, her face set hard, not a single tear falling

Arabella drew a long breath, then walked to the door and opened it gently. Sebastian stood waiting in the corridor, calm and steady. “I am ready,” she said. There was no emptiness left in her gaze — instead, a new light burned there, a resolve nothing could extinguish. “But remember, Sebastian… I am not leaving just to hide away forever.” Sebastian nodded, as if he had always known. “I know. And I will stand with you.” He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. “But before we go, there is something you must understand — and something you must hold close.” He pulled a chair to the bedside and sat down, then drew a slim envelope from his jacket and handed it to her. Arabella opened it carefully. Inside were plane tickets, a passport, and neatly arranged documents. She looked down at the name printed there — Adele Laurent. Unfamiliar, yet somehow it felt like a door opening onto something entirely new. “Your new name,” Sebastian said quietly. “The surgeon who will restor