Awakening From A Toxic Billionaire Marriage

Chapter 5

Word Count: 713 | Released on: Today at 10:37

ning table. She sliced into the perfectly cooked,

o her crystal water glass,

nths ago through her underground network as 'Vesper'. She had paid a private inve

Several high-resolution

Dawson and the woman with Angelita's profile. They were walking throu

e image. The digital timestamp glowed brightly.

n while she was bleeding on the steering wheel, Charlene felt no heartbreak. Her pulse

the ki

d uploaded them to her private,

steak, wiped her mouth with a line

back into the master bedroom. She stood i

torage room and grabbed a roll

cashmere sweaters, the conservative silk pajamas, the modest cardigans. Every sing

p in her fists and shoved them vio

e white slippers. She swept them off the sh

closet was half empty. Only a few

the wall. Two maids appeared in the do

the four bulging tra

urn them," she ordered. "Or donat

high-end designers poking out of the plastic. They stoo

ed the thick plastic knot of the he

She hauled it out of the bedroom and violently

ud echoed do

usiness dinner, was halfway up the sta

the expensive silk spilling out onto the flo

two at a time. He marched tow

ntrum going to end?" he

him with bored eyes. "I have amnesia. I don't

tepped forward, raising his hands to grab

tlessly. She reached into her

oto and shoved the screen

contracted sharply. For a fraction of a second,

urved into a shar

ement," she said, her voice ringing clear and cold in the hallway. "I w

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.”