Abigail
The next morning, I dressed quickly and headed straight to the police station. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going; I didn’t need any interruptions. At the station, I requested to speak with the officers who had been called to the house. It took some convincing, but eventually, they agreed to sit down with me. After I’d explained my desire to see the progress they had made with the case, one of the officers – Lieutenant Barnes – was surprisingly cooperative after he’d heard me out.
He took a folder from the other officer and slid it across the table to me. “We’ve made some progress,” he said. “First, the jewelry didn’t have your fingerprints on it.”
I frowned. “Jus
AbigailFor a second, I said nothing, my heart pounding. That wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Conrad had given me that jewelry set as his recognition of all my sacrifices. All my hard work. He’d said so himself. The audacity of her words left me speechless. But I wouldn’t let her twist this to her favor.“You’re pathetic Susanna,” I said finally, my voice steady. “Even now, is all you can do lie?”She stood up abruptly, her face red with anger. Her head tilted as she let out a mocking laugh, the kind that made my skin crawl. “Why would I go through all that trouble, Abigail? What could I possibly gain from this ridiculous scheme?”The room felt like it had shrunk in the suffocating silence following Susanna’s scornful words. I stood there, gripping the file from the police station tightly against my chest. The implications of her words looped in my mind.I opened my mouth to reply, but she cut me off, her face suddenly flushed either from the effort of lying so brazenly or from some pet
AbigailSusanna ended the call with a smug smile, turning her attention back to me.“Oh, did you want to talk to him?” she asked, faking surprise. “Sorry about that.” She offered a mock apology, her tone so insincere it made my blood boil.Then, with her nose in the air, she sauntered out of the room, leaving me standing there, gripping the file from the police station in one hand and my phone in the other so tightly my knuckles turned white.My anger felt like a living, breathing thing, threatening to consume me. How dare Conrad do this? How dare he treat me like this? How dare he give me something Susanna had rejected, knowing fully well how I felt about her? My mind replayed every slight, every instance where I’d felt pushed aside or overshadowed since Susanna moved in.As I wrestled with my emotions, Marceline stepped into the room, her expression searching. From the apologetic look in her eyes, it was clear she’d overheard everything.“Abigail,” she began gently, placing a hand o
AbigailAs I stepped out of the shower, the steam from my hot shower swirled around me and clung to the edges of the bathroom mirror. My damp hair clung to my neck as I grabbed another towel and began drying it absent-mindedly. I didn’t want to think about the file from the police station, Susanna’s smug words, or my horrible day. Not yet, anyway. I could feel the anger coiled up in my chest, just waiting for an excuse to explode. I needed this moment of peace and quiet.But even as I dried my hair, it didn’t last long. My phone, charging on wooden the bedside table, kept buzzing insistently. I frowned and tightened my towel around myself before padding across the room to see who it was, although I already had a good idea. The screen lit up with a familiar name as I picked it up. Four missed calls from Conrad. I stared at the notification, my stomach tightening. Conrad. Of course, it was Conrad.My lip curled as I opened the messages, skimming through a chain of text messages that app
AbigailI glanced up at her, smiling faintly. “Conrad used to bring work home sometimes,” I explained. “I helped him out whenever I could. I guess I picked up a thing or two.”Her eyes softened, and she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, her brows knitting together briefly before she silenced it. “You’re doing great,” she said instead, her tone encouraging. “Keep it up.”As she walked away, I turned back to my work. For the first time in quite a while, I felt in control. Maybe this was what I needed. Space. Independence. A chance to remind myself—and Conrad—that I wasn’t just an ornament, waiting to be polished and displayed when it suited him.The morning passed in a blur for me as I worked. Even though I had only arrived that morning, my desk was already drowning under a sea of documents, leaving no room for my thoughts to be consumed by Conrad or the mess that had led me here. I was totally absorbed in my work until I he
AbigailThe secretary’s announcement had barely finished ringing in my ears when she turned to Conrad and me. “You need to go to the scene immediately,” she added, her tone now turning brisk and professional. “I’ve already arranged for a company car. It’s waiting downstairs.”Without hesitating, I nodded. “Let’s go.”I moved toward the door, the news buzzing in my head like a bee around a flower. Alexander was back. A part of me still struggled to believe it. Just as I moved past Conrad, his hand shot out, gripping my arm to stop me in my tracks. “Wait, Abigail,” he said, his voice low and edged with frustration. “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here, in the company? In my office?”I turned to him slowly, disbelief washing over me. I had just answered him, hadn’t I? The reason was obvious, yet here he was, dragging me back into a conversation that was irrelevant with this news of Alexander. Then it hit me—Conrad didn’t even remember. It hadn’t even been tha
AlexanderTwo Months AgoAfter I took over the family business, I faced constant resistance. Many eyes were on the company, both openly and secretly. The endless deception became tiresome. The people I could trust grew fewer and fewer. Besides my loyal subordinates, the only ones I could rely on were my family.Or so I thought.The memory of it all haunted me. No matter how much time passed, I could still feel the bitter sting of betrayal, the bone-deep exhaustion of fighting for my life, and the lingering grief of a promise made to a dying man. It had started with Susanna’s message, a simple plea for help that had thrown me into chaos.I was in another city, halfway across the country, handling a deal that demanded my full attention. But the moment I saw her name on the screen, followed by the panicked plea for help, everything else faded into the background. Her message was brief but filled with urgency.Alexander, I need you. Please come.My gut twisted as I read them, imagining th
AlexanderPresent DayMy estate home sat in a strange kind of quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful but expectant, like the air before a storm. I sat by the large window overlooking the driveway, the sunlight slicing through the curtains in golden streaks. A blanket covered my legs. The wheelchair carrying me had been carefully chosen for the role I was now playing. My wound had long since healed; I didn’t need the chair anymore as my leg no longer ached. But the wheelchair was a weapon now, a carefully chosen tool for deception.Florence, the head of my household staff, stood to my side, her tablet in hand. Her polished bearing betrayed a trace of concern as she delivered the news. “Sir,” she said, her voice soft. “The news of your rescue has been leaked to the family.”I nodded slowly, turning the chair slightly to face her. The golden light from the window cast shadows on her face, highlighting the faint worry lines on her brow.“Good,” I said, keeping my voice cool.“You
AbigailThe scent of jasmine rice and lemongrass greeted me before I even saw the basket. It sat on my desk, pristine and perfectly arranged, a silent proclamation of Conrad’s devotion—or perhaps, guilt. My stomach twisted—not from hunger, but from irritation. The presentation was perfect, of course. Conrad’s gestures always were, shouting louder to the office than any declaration of love ever could.I felt eyes on me as I approached my desk, coworkers waiting for my reaction. Some tried to appear casual, others not bothering to hide their curiosity. Sylvia, seated just a few feet away, was the first to speak.“Well, well,” she drawled, leaning against her cubicle wall with an expression of poorly hidden admiration. “If my ex-husband had been half this romantic, maybe I wouldn’t have divorced him.”The bitterness in her tone didn’t escape me, nor did the envy that lingered beneath her words.I forced a polite smile, my fingers grazing the basket’s woven handle. “If you want a man like
AbigailDinner turned out to be a far more intimate affair than I had anticipated. Instead of the crowded gatherings typical of the Remington family, the table was set for only the four us: Marceline, Alexander, Conrad, and me. No crowd of curious onlookers, no whispered gossip, and most importantly, no Susanna.It was a small mercy that she wasn’t present. I wasn’t sure if her absence was deliberate on Marceline’s part or if Susanna herself had chosen not to attend. Either way, I was grateful. Marceline and Alexander carried most of the conversation, their polite exchange drifting across the dining table as we ate. Marceline asked Alexander about his recovery, her voice warm with genuine concern. He described the plane crash with a grim clarity that made my stomach twist, and the difficult days that followed, when life had tried to strip him of everything.Marceline’s voice was edged with curiosity as she dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin and asked Alexander, “I can’t
AbigailAs I pulled up to the dinner that evening, my determination wobbled like jelly. The house, with its grand columns and sprawling driveway, was lit with the soft glow of evening lights, but it felt nothing like home.“You said you’d go,” I muttered to myself. “You’re not a coward.” My stomach twisted as I sat in the car, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. I could leave. I could turn the ignition, drive off, and call Marceline with some excuse—headache, sudden work emergency, anything to avoid stepping into that house again. But I’d given my word. And if nothing else, I always kept my promises.“You’ve faced worse, Abigail,” I added in a whisper, straightening my posture. “It’s just dinner.”It took several deep breaths, and a silent pep talk before I convinced myself to open the car door and step out. I smoothed the front of my emerald dress. It was understated but elegant, just enough to show I hadn’t come unprepared but not so much as to look like I was trying
AbigailThe scent of jasmine rice and lemongrass greeted me before I even saw the basket. It sat on my desk, pristine and perfectly arranged, a silent proclamation of Conrad’s devotion—or perhaps, guilt. My stomach twisted—not from hunger, but from irritation. The presentation was perfect, of course. Conrad’s gestures always were, shouting louder to the office than any declaration of love ever could.I felt eyes on me as I approached my desk, coworkers waiting for my reaction. Some tried to appear casual, others not bothering to hide their curiosity. Sylvia, seated just a few feet away, was the first to speak.“Well, well,” she drawled, leaning against her cubicle wall with an expression of poorly hidden admiration. “If my ex-husband had been half this romantic, maybe I wouldn’t have divorced him.”The bitterness in her tone didn’t escape me, nor did the envy that lingered beneath her words.I forced a polite smile, my fingers grazing the basket’s woven handle. “If you want a man like
AlexanderPresent DayMy estate home sat in a strange kind of quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful but expectant, like the air before a storm. I sat by the large window overlooking the driveway, the sunlight slicing through the curtains in golden streaks. A blanket covered my legs. The wheelchair carrying me had been carefully chosen for the role I was now playing. My wound had long since healed; I didn’t need the chair anymore as my leg no longer ached. But the wheelchair was a weapon now, a carefully chosen tool for deception.Florence, the head of my household staff, stood to my side, her tablet in hand. Her polished bearing betrayed a trace of concern as she delivered the news. “Sir,” she said, her voice soft. “The news of your rescue has been leaked to the family.”I nodded slowly, turning the chair slightly to face her. The golden light from the window cast shadows on her face, highlighting the faint worry lines on her brow.“Good,” I said, keeping my voice cool.“You
AlexanderTwo Months AgoAfter I took over the family business, I faced constant resistance. Many eyes were on the company, both openly and secretly. The endless deception became tiresome. The people I could trust grew fewer and fewer. Besides my loyal subordinates, the only ones I could rely on were my family.Or so I thought.The memory of it all haunted me. No matter how much time passed, I could still feel the bitter sting of betrayal, the bone-deep exhaustion of fighting for my life, and the lingering grief of a promise made to a dying man. It had started with Susanna’s message, a simple plea for help that had thrown me into chaos.I was in another city, halfway across the country, handling a deal that demanded my full attention. But the moment I saw her name on the screen, followed by the panicked plea for help, everything else faded into the background. Her message was brief but filled with urgency.Alexander, I need you. Please come.My gut twisted as I read them, imagining th
AbigailThe secretary’s announcement had barely finished ringing in my ears when she turned to Conrad and me. “You need to go to the scene immediately,” she added, her tone now turning brisk and professional. “I’ve already arranged for a company car. It’s waiting downstairs.”Without hesitating, I nodded. “Let’s go.”I moved toward the door, the news buzzing in my head like a bee around a flower. Alexander was back. A part of me still struggled to believe it. Just as I moved past Conrad, his hand shot out, gripping my arm to stop me in my tracks. “Wait, Abigail,” he said, his voice low and edged with frustration. “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here, in the company? In my office?”I turned to him slowly, disbelief washing over me. I had just answered him, hadn’t I? The reason was obvious, yet here he was, dragging me back into a conversation that was irrelevant with this news of Alexander. Then it hit me—Conrad didn’t even remember. It hadn’t even been tha
AbigailI glanced up at her, smiling faintly. “Conrad used to bring work home sometimes,” I explained. “I helped him out whenever I could. I guess I picked up a thing or two.”Her eyes softened, and she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, her brows knitting together briefly before she silenced it. “You’re doing great,” she said instead, her tone encouraging. “Keep it up.”As she walked away, I turned back to my work. For the first time in quite a while, I felt in control. Maybe this was what I needed. Space. Independence. A chance to remind myself—and Conrad—that I wasn’t just an ornament, waiting to be polished and displayed when it suited him.The morning passed in a blur for me as I worked. Even though I had only arrived that morning, my desk was already drowning under a sea of documents, leaving no room for my thoughts to be consumed by Conrad or the mess that had led me here. I was totally absorbed in my work until I he
AbigailAs I stepped out of the shower, the steam from my hot shower swirled around me and clung to the edges of the bathroom mirror. My damp hair clung to my neck as I grabbed another towel and began drying it absent-mindedly. I didn’t want to think about the file from the police station, Susanna’s smug words, or my horrible day. Not yet, anyway. I could feel the anger coiled up in my chest, just waiting for an excuse to explode. I needed this moment of peace and quiet.But even as I dried my hair, it didn’t last long. My phone, charging on wooden the bedside table, kept buzzing insistently. I frowned and tightened my towel around myself before padding across the room to see who it was, although I already had a good idea. The screen lit up with a familiar name as I picked it up. Four missed calls from Conrad. I stared at the notification, my stomach tightening. Conrad. Of course, it was Conrad.My lip curled as I opened the messages, skimming through a chain of text messages that app
AbigailSusanna ended the call with a smug smile, turning her attention back to me.“Oh, did you want to talk to him?” she asked, faking surprise. “Sorry about that.” She offered a mock apology, her tone so insincere it made my blood boil.Then, with her nose in the air, she sauntered out of the room, leaving me standing there, gripping the file from the police station in one hand and my phone in the other so tightly my knuckles turned white.My anger felt like a living, breathing thing, threatening to consume me. How dare Conrad do this? How dare he treat me like this? How dare he give me something Susanna had rejected, knowing fully well how I felt about her? My mind replayed every slight, every instance where I’d felt pushed aside or overshadowed since Susanna moved in.As I wrestled with my emotions, Marceline stepped into the room, her expression searching. From the apologetic look in her eyes, it was clear she’d overheard everything.“Abigail,” she began gently, placing a hand o