Todos los capítulos de The Wife He Loves to Hate: Capítulo 81 - Capítulo 90

The furniture studio was located in a quiet part of the city, tucked between a luxury boutique and an expensive art gallery. Julian was already waiting when Liam and I arrived. He wore a charcoal jacket over a black shirt, looking as polished as if he had stepped out of a magazine. “Abigail,” he greeted me with a warm smile. “I’m glad you could make it.” “Sorry if we’re late.” “You’re right on time.” His gaze shifted to Liam. “Mr. Montgomery.” “Julian.” They shook hands. I looked between them. If politeness could be measured in degrees, the two men had managed to reach the exact temperature of ice. “Shall we?” I asked. Julian led us inside. The studio was filled with elegant furniture, soft lighting, and carefully arranged displays. I immediately gravitated toward a long wooden table surrounded by comfortable chairs. “This would be perfect for the reading room,” I said. Julian nodded. “I thought so, too. The rounded edges make it safer for younger children, and the wood w

I didn’t return to the penthouse until late afternoon. I had spent most of the day at the foundation building, reviewing the original plans and speaking with the project coordinator. Julian had been professional throughout the process, even after hearing about the proposed transfer. He hadn’t complained. He hadn’t tried to make me feel guilty. Somehow, that made Liam’s decision feel even worse. When I entered the penthouse, the smell of freshly brewed coffee greeted me. Liam was standing in the kitchen. He looked up as soon as I walked in. “Abby.” I set my bag down. “Hi.” He studied my face, perhaps searching for a sign that I was no longer angry. “Have you eaten?” “Not yet.” “I made something.” I glanced at the counter. There were sandwiches, a bowl of fruit, and two cups of coffee. “You cooked?” “Don’t sound so surprised.” “I’m not surprised. I’m concerned about the kitchen.” His mouth twitched, but I didn’t smile. He noticed. “Can we talk?” I took a breath

The architectural drawings were spread across the conference table, covering almost every inch of its polished surface. I leaned forward, studying the latest design Julian had prepared for the new community arts center. The project was part of the foundation Agatha had established years ago, a place intended to provide free art classes, music lessons, and vocational training for children from underprivileged families. The original building had been damaged by a fire several years earlier. Now, the foundation wanted to rebuild it into something brighter and more welcoming. Julian Bennett was the architect leading the renovation. And, apparently, he was very good at making people forget they were supposed to be working. “What do you think about the eastern wing?” he asked, pointing to the blueprint. “I like the open courtyard,” I replied. “But I think the classrooms need more natural light. Children shouldn’t feel like they’re trapped in a box.” Julian smiled. “That’s exactly wh

“No.” The word escaped me before Liam had even finished speaking. He looked at me calmly. “Abby—” “No, Lee. I wouldn’t have done that.” “You did.” “I was twenty years old. I had just caught my boyfriend cheating on me. I was heartbroken, angry, humiliated—” “I know.” “And you were my best friend.” “I know that, too.” I pulled my hand from his and leaned back against the seat. My thoughts were moving too quickly, colliding with one another before I could make sense of them. I could accept that Liam had followed me that night. I could accept that he had stayed with me when I was crying. Even the confession that he had loved me for years was beginning to settle into place. But marriage? I had no memory of asking him to marry me. I had no memory of wanting to marry anyone at all. “Why would I ask you that?” I whispered. “Because you wanted a new beginning.” “With you?” “Yes.” I shook my head. “You must have misunderstood me.” “I didn’t.” “Maybe I

Liam didn’t pull away from me. But something in his body changed. His arms remained around my shoulders, his hand resting against my back, yet the warmth between us seemed to retreat beneath a layer of caution. “Lee?” He looked down at me. “It’s a long story.” “I think I’ve waited long enough to hear it.” He released a slow breath and moved away just enough to look into my eyes. “Our marriage changed over time.” “Because of Edward?” His expression tightened. “Edward was part of it.” I sat up straighter. “Then tell me.” Liam stood and walked toward the window. Beyond the glass, the garden was dim beneath the evening sky. He stared outside for a moment, as though he were trying to decide which memory would hurt the least to share. “At first, we were happy,” he began. “Not perfect. We argued, we disagreed, and we had to learn how to live together. But we were happy.” I watched his reflection in the glass. “You used to wait for me to come home. You’d call if I was late. Some