Todos los capítulos de The Wife He Loves to Hate: Capítulo 51 - Capítulo 60

By seven that evening, I stood in front of the vanity mirror, wondering whether I had gone too far. The dress was red—not a bright, dramatic crimson, but a deep, dangerous blood red. It was elegant and perfectly tailored, with a low back that left most of my shoulders and spine exposed. The fabric followed every curve without looking vulgar, cascading down into a subtle train that moved like liquid fire whenever I walked. I turned slightly to inspect my reflection. "Too much?" The stylist standing behind me smiled. "Perfect, Mrs. Montgomery." I wasn't sure whether I believed her. Tonight wasn't supposed to be about Felicia—that was what I kept telling myself. But after everything she had done and the phone conversation I'd overheard outside the dressing room earlier, I refused to walk into that gala looking forgettable. I wanted her to know exactly who she was dealing with. And perhaps—just perhaps—I wanted Liam to notice, too. I rolled my eyes at my reflection. "Ridiculous, A

Liam took another cautious step forward, reaching out gently for my hand. "Abby..." "I said don't touch me!" I yelled, swiping his hand away. His hand dropped to his side, his face locking into an impenetrable mask of steel to hide the pain underneath. My eyes flicked over to the silver tray he had brought in. A plate of neatly sliced tropical fruit, freshly toasted bread, a small pot of low-acid coffee, and a single white orchid in a glass vase. A domestic, caring gesture—so completely at odds with the storm tearing my chest apart. "You brought me breakfast?" I whispered, my voice dripping with bitter irony. "I thought you might be hungry," he said quietly. "You didn't eat at the gala." I stared at the tray, then looked back up into his dark, watchful eyes. "How thoughtful." "Abby, please—" In a sudden burst of overwhelming frustration, I grabbed the edge of the silver tray and shoved it with all my strength. The tray crashed onto the hard floor. The porcelain plate

A long, suffocating silence stretched between us. I wanted to believe him. Every shattered piece of my soul screamed at me to step into his arms and let the warmth of his truth wash away the humiliation of the morning. But fear—deep, lingering, defensive fear—still sat stubbornly between us. "You expect me to just accept that after being ambushed by fifty reporters asking if I'm a pathetic trophy wife?" I choked out, tears finally breaking through my defenses. "No," Liam said softly, his dark eyes filling with immense pain. "I expect you to let me fix it." "They're calling our marriage a sham, Lee!" My voice broke, the raw humiliation spilling over. "They're saying I demanded a divorce! You have no idea what it felt like standing in that lobby alone while the entire world laughed at me!" Liam stepped around the armchair. "I do know." "You don't!" "I do, Abby," he insisted gently. And then, to my complete and utter shock, Liam Montgomery dropped to his knees right in front of me

I clicked the prompt, opening a complex financial tree. Liam immediately stepped up beside my chair, leaning over my shoulder, his playful demeanor replaced by a cold, razor-sharp focus."What did you find?" he asked flatly."An offshore routing account," I murmured, zooming in on the transaction history. "The account isn’t registered under Felicia Brooke. It’s not registered under Brooke Capital either. It’s buried behind three layer-shell companies based in the Cayman Islands."I brought up the sub-ledger. "But look at the recipient history. Money has been transferred repeatedly over the last three weeks to a private account inside London."My pulse quickened as I cross-referenced the destination routing code. "The receiving account belongs to a senior executive at Hart Enterprise."Liam’s posture locked, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. "That’s the traitor inside your father's firm.""Can we identify the exact account holder yet?""Not from the front ledger

Edward stepped forward, adjusting his cuffs. "Mrs. Montgomery, this boardroom is executing high-level corporate governance. It is not the place for emotional spousal defenses." I looked up at him, my expression turning to ice. "Who said anything about being emotional, Edward?" His jaw tightened marginally. "Perhaps," I continued smoothly, "you’re simply uncomfortable because someone is finally asking the right questions." The Chairman raised his hand, demanding order. "Mrs. Montgomery, do you or the CEO possess hard evidence that these ledgers are fraudulent?" "Not on paper," I replied calmly. Edward let out a soft, condescending chuckle. "Then I suggest you refrain from throwing baseless accusations at the board." I turned my eyes back to the giant screen. "Who conducted the independent forensic audit on those files, Edward?" Edward hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Our third-party advisory team." "Names?" "They are fully cited in the appendix of the report in front of