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His Unwanted Wife Is A Genius Designer

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 892    |    Released on: Today at 15:18

olving doors of the luxury Upp

m her hair, pooling on the pri

of the usually immaculate CEO's wife looking so drenched and disheveled. He opened hi

ors slid open o

lighting she expected, she wa

hit the switch on

lled out for th

hardwood floor of the massive duplex livi

hit her bloodstream. It was the prim

els and ran barefoot down th

was sligh

e hallway, she saw something small and

half-eate

d against the wall, finding the switch.

sound tearing ou

lying on the floor. His small body wa

eat. She dropped to her knees

s chest heaved, producing a horrific, high-

eanut butter wafted from th

vere anaphy

gently laid him down and sprinted toward the corne

the locked box. She punc

hing last week about updating the code so Benjaman wouldn't accidentally get into the adult

n. Red light. A third time. Red

landing on the heavy, soli

high above her head, and slammed it directly

tered with an

hand. Warm blood instantly welled up, dripping

d into the broken cabinet a

around the plastic

ed Benjaman's tiny thigh, aimed the orange ti

. The medication s

d slightly, but his eyes remained ro

ocket. Her bloody fingers smeared a

inistered. He is unresponsive," she barked into the phone, r

e and immediately dialed

ng. And ran

warded to an automatic

er jaw aching from the p

once before th

ally reject

bsolute despair crashed over her. She p

g over her eyelashes and dropping

ren echoed from the streets far below, cutti

hrough the front door, their heavy

njaman onto a

stinctively scooped her phone from the floor, an

was cramped and smelled

hed through the small windows, illuminati

mask over Benjaman's face and attach

able rhythm made the temperature in the small

pped her so

nd typed a frantic text to Franc

ng. Presbyteria

' receipt popp

ammed on its brakes, throwing her forward

t black. There

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His Unwanted Wife Is A Genius Designer
His Unwanted Wife Is A Genius Designer
“For six years, I played the perfect, submissive wife to Wall Street titan Francis Castro. I suffocated my own ambitions to fit into his conservative world. But while I waited alone at a Michelin restaurant, a news alert popped up. My husband had just dropped millions on an aquamarine diamond necklace for his "muse," Chanelle. The real nightmare began when I rushed home to find our five-year-old son in severe anaphylactic shock. I frantically called Francis from the ambulance, but he manually rejected my calls. He couldn't leave the bidding war for Chanelle's PR launch. When he finally arrived at the ER, Chanelle was right beside him, wearing that blinding multi-million-dollar necklace. He didn't ask about our dying son. "Why weren't you watching him?" he demanded, his voice hard and accusing. And when my son woke up, hazy from the drugs, he rejected my touch and reached for Chanelle instead. Francis just stood there, praising Chanelle for knowing exactly how to calm him down. I stared at the three of them looking like a perfect, happy family. Six years of swallowing my pride, only to realize my husband would let our son choke to death just to buy another woman's smile. The last thread of my heart snapped. I handed him the divorce papers, demanding zero alimony. Then, I drove to a hidden Brooklyn loft, cut off my hair, and unlocked my safe. It was time to resurrect my true identity-the legendary fashion designer, Ember.J. I am going to burn her empire to the ground.”