Chapter 4
“I’m not asking for your permission.”
Alexander’s face twisted in fury, and he gripped my wrist so tightly it hurt. His voice
trembled with anger.
“Eleanor, get a hold of yourself. You caused this disaster. I haven’t even held you accountable, and you think you have the right to divorce me?”
Then his tone suddenly softened, like he was trying to coax a child.
“Fine. I’ll talk to Abigail and make her write a letter of forgiveness.”
“Stop making a scene. I didn’t mean for the child to be hurt. I’ll protect you.”
I looked at his earnest expression and burst into bitter laughter,
Protect me? I spat.
You hit me, kicked me, humiliated me in public, framed me, and even let our child gone. Is
this your idea of protection?
“Alexander, I don’t need your protection/”
“I didn’t start the fire. Feel free to investigate it all you want.“–
I tried to walk away, but his grip on my wrist only tightened.
His eyes were filled with conflict and exhaustion, as if he was struggling to decide whether he should shield me or not.
“You’re a grown woman, and yet you act less sensible than Abigail, who’s just a child.”
Abigail’s eyes flashed with hatred, but when she heard his words, her expression shifted to one of aggrieved innocence.
“Alexander, if that’s what you want, then for your sake, I’m willing to forgive her.”
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The Internet’s Favorite Couple Was My Marriage’s Worst Nightmare
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Chapter 4
“I won’t press charges, but I’m really scared of what Eleanor might do next…”
“You promised my parents you’d never let me suffer…”
The look of fake innocence on her face turned my stomach.
I wrenched my hand free from Alexander’s grip and stood there, coldly observing the two
of them.
The moment Abigail mentioned her parents again, Alexander’s expression shifted uneasily.
Finally, as if he’d made some sort of decision, he spoke with a tone of forced conviction:
“Eleanor, I’m sorry, but I can’t let Abigail suffer even a little.”
With that, he took Abigail and walked away.
The door slammed shut in front of me.
I stared at the dark, cold door lock and pressed my lips together.
This was my husband, Alexander.
He said he’d help me, but in his heart, he already believed I was the culprit.
One moment, he apologized; the next, he was locking me away for interrogation.
It was utterly laughable.
I was kept locked up for two whole days.
No one brought me water. No one brought me food.
I didn’t even have to think about it to know this was Abigail’s doing.
She was a martyr’s daughter, and everyone instinctively saw her as righteous.
Everyone sheltered her, protected her, and even despised me on her behalf.
But I never did any of the things she accused me of.
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Before my mind drifted away from hunger and exhaustion, I recalled the moment Abigail stumbled toward the traffic.
Back then, I had no idea of her schemes. I only saw her as a pitiful little girl in need of care.
The sight of her falling toward the rushing cars left me so stunned I froze.
The artisan chocolates I’d specially brought for her hit the ground, scattering everywhere.
Before I could react, my husband shoved me violently. I lost my balance–my head struck the floor with a sickening crack.
Pain exploded through my skull.
ame.
When I touched the wound, my palm away slick with blood.
I looked up just in time to meet his gaze.
Then came Abigail’s frantic sobbing:
“Eleanor, why did you push me?”
Alexander, furious, punched a nearby tree with such force that leaves and dust scattered into the air, choking me and making my eyes sting with tears.
He drove like a madman all the way home, deaf to my pleas and blind to my bleeding
wound.
The moment we arrived, he bolted the door–leaving me alone with his ultimatum:
“REFLECT! Until you realize your mistake!”
All I could realize was that the bond between him and Abigail had already twisted into something sickening.
No matter how much I cried screamed, or reasoned, Alexander refused to believe me.
I demanded he check the security footage, but he stormed out, slamming the door so hard it nearly broke off its hinges.
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Chapter 4
Before leaving, he said:
“You’ve already hurt Abigail. Do you really want her to think I don’t trust her, too?”
“I only see her as a sister. Why you so hate her?”
A single tear slipped down my cheek, uncontrollable and bitter.
The next scene that flashed through my mind was Abigail falling down the stairs.
Alexander’s brows knitted into a tight cross, and his gaze toward me was nothing but icy
disdain.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay away from her? Why would you do this?”
“You’re completely unreasonable. Abigail, don’t be afraid, I’ll take you to the hospital.”
With that, Alexander hoisted Abigail over his shoulder.
Before they left, Abigail looked back at me with a smirk filled with mockery and triumph.
That was the day I first seriously considered divorce.
It was also on that day that I found out I was pregnant.
Like most women, I had endless tolerance for the man I chose to marry.
I thought, maybe if we had a child, he would change.
But now, he had killed our child with his own hands.
And I finally understood–he would never change,
I would no longer stay wedged between him and Abigail, playing the unwanted third wheel.
But before I walked away, I intended to reclaim what I was owed.
The Internet’s Favorite Couple Was My Murriage’s Worst Nightmare
