Semua Bab The Wife He Loves to Hate: Bab 31 - Bab 40

The morning air back in our estate carried a sharp, familiar chill. Standing in the sunlit kitchen, watching the steam rise lazily from my mug of Earl Grey, I tried to convince myself that everything hadn't slipped right back into the shadows.London had felt like a dream—a fleeting, sun-drenched pocket of reality where we were just a normal, happy family.For the first few days after our return, that warmth had lingered. Charlotte was practically glued to Liam's side, babbling endlessly about the giant teddy bear, the Royal Opera House, and the late-night chocolate ice cream. And Liam had been... soft. He had smiled more in those forty-eight hours than he had in the entire month since I woke up from my coma. He had looked at me with an intensity that made my pulse race, brushing my hair back, holding my hand at the breakfast table, treating me like his wife.I truly thought we had crossed the threshold. I thought we were finally becoming a real family.Then Monday arrived, and the co

The afternoon sun poured through the high arched windows of the living room, casting long, honey-colored ribbons across the hardwood floor. Charlotte was sprawled on her stomach over a large drawing pad, surrounded by a chaotic constellation of colored pencils, while I sat beside her trying to assemble a ridiculously complex wooden dollhouse we had bought during our afternoon outing. The instruction manual was written in three different languages, none of which seemed to make any logical sense. I sat cross-legged on the rug, staring at two misaligned wooden roof panels, biting my bottom lip until it turned pale. It was a habit I had noticed myself doing whenever I was deeply frustrated or trying to solve a puzzle—a subconscious tic that my body remembered even if my conscious mind didn't. "Mommy, why are you making that face at the roof?" Charlotte asked, pausing her masterpiece to look at me with wide, curious eyes. "Because the roof is being stubborn, Char," I muttered, unconsc

The roar was absolute, carrying a terrifying velocity that shattered the suffocating silence of the foyer. Before Vienna could even register the sound, a heavy, unstoppable force collided with her. Liam didn't just step between us—he grabbed Vienna’s wrists with a terrifying grip, ripping her fingers off my throat and flinging her back so hard she stumbled, her heels slipping on the wet marble floor before she crashed against the console table. Air flooded back into my lungs all at once. I fell to my knees, clutching my bruised neck, coughing hysterically as I gasped for oxygen. "Abby!" Liam dropped to his knees beside me in a fraction of a second, his large hands hovering over my trembling shoulders, terrified to hurt me further. His face was paler than I had ever seen it, his dark eyes wide with pure, unadulterated panic as he watched me choke. "Breathe, Abby... look at me, breathe," he pleaded, his voice cracking with a raw, desperate edge that stripped away every ounce of hi

The soft, cheerful chime above the entrance of L'Étoile echoed through the luxurious boutique. Sunlight poured through the tall glass display windows, illuminating racks of designer silk dresses and miniature tailored coats. "Mommy, look!" Charlotte squealed, dragging me by the hand toward a display of matching pastel-pink dresses. "We can be twins!" I couldn't help but laugh as she held a tiny tulle dress up to her chest, twirling in front of the full-length mirror. After the chaos of last night’s burnt chicken and late-night pizza, taking Charlotte out for a relaxed shopping afternoon felt like a breath of fresh air. For two hours, we turned the fitting rooms into our personal runway. I tried on an elegant emerald silk dress, while Charlotte proudly showed off three different velvet coats, striking dramatic poses that made the boutique assistants giggle behind their hands. "We'll take these two dresses, the winter coat, and the matching hair ribbons, please," I said with a

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast long, amber shadows across Charlotte's massive canopy bed. It was nearly ten at night, but our five-year-old daughter was showing zero signs of sleepiness. She was bouncing lightly on her mattress, wearing her favorite fluffy star-patterned pajamas, holding a giant teddy bear in her arms while looking back and forth between Liam and me. "No, Charlotte," Liam said softly, standing near the edge of the bed with his arms loosely crossed over his chest. He had changed into a dark gray t-shirt and flannel lounge pants, looking entirely relaxed, yet his posture held a faint edge of hesitation. "Daddy has an early meeting tomorrow morning. You need a good night's sleep, and so do Mommy and I." "But Daddy!" Charlotte pouted, sticking her bottom lip out in a masterclass of tragic negotiation. "The storm outside is making weird noises against the window! The monsters are definitely going to come if I'm all alone!" "There are no monsters in this house,