Awakening From A Toxic Billionaire Marriage

Chapter 4

Word Count: 766 | Released on: Today at 10:37

the pocket of her jeans. She unlocked the master bedroo

the corridor, blocking her path. He was

n arrogant scowl that perfe

n there?" Silas demanded.

a finger toward the stairs. "Go to the kitche

an order, and his weak, eager-to-please mot

. She didn't offer her usu

looked down at the boy who had been com

lene asked. Her voice was flat,

the lack of compliance. Then, his face turn

ensive Nintendo Switch onto the floor

ly off the walls. "You're a bad mom! Aunt Angelita is bet

e hallway ins

, Charlene's eyes turned to sha

t him. She didn't beg him to stop cryi

heel of her stiletto stepped right

the grand staircase and l

voice cracked like a whip

from the dining room, looki

back at Silas, who was sti

ne ordered coldly. "And go into his room and confi

t, torn between the absolute authority Dawson held over the household and the immediate, terrifying threat standing right in

he butler. The sheer force of her

o face my wrath immediately. Make your choice. Does my voice mean absolutely nothing i

ty, coupled with the real fear of losing his lucrative position

his mind. He charged at Charlene like a wild anim

. Her hand shot out and clamp

ueezed

a sharp pain shot up his arm. He tried to ya

her face level with his, her eyes

rd clearly, "I will throw you out the front door, and you can g

r's eyes and saw nothing but absolute, freezing i

ks. He wrenched his wrist free, turned around, and

l into a deathly silence. The maids hi

She brushed her hands toge

he stairs. "Tell the chef I

Chapter End

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Awakening From A Toxic Billionaire Marriage

AtengKadiwa Romance

“I woke up in a sterile hospital room, my head split open from a horrific car crash. But the pain in my skull was nothing compared to the memory burned into my retinas just before the impact: my billionaire husband, Dawson, walking into a luxury hotel with a woman who looked exactly like his dead first love. When Dawson finally arrived at the ward, there was no panic or relief in his eyes. He just coldly looked at my bloody bandages. "Your reckless driving just forced me to postpone the quarterly board meeting." Even our seven-year-old son, who I almost died giving birth to, didn't spare me a single glance. He kicked my hospital bed in annoyance. "The Wi-Fi here is garbage. You're a bad mom! Dad said Aunt Angelita should be the one living with us!" My blood turned to ice. For five years, I had bent over backward, wearing the hideous pale dresses he picked, starving myself to maintain a fragile figure, all to be a perfect, obedient substitute for a ghost. And this was what I got. An unfaithful husband who would rather bury me in debt than grant me a divorce, and a son who wished I was dead. The weak, subservient Charlene died on that wet asphalt. When the doctor pointed to Dawson and asked for his name, I looked at my husband with a hollow, defensive stare. "Who are you?" I whispered. Using retrograde amnesia as my shield, I was going to tear their perfect world apart.”