Chapter 21 (1)
Abigail
The 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. “ 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 him, Sylvia, you’re welcome to him.” The words slipped out before I could stop them but were too low for anyone else to hear.
Whispers from both her and my other co–workers followed me as I turned away, carrying the basket to Roxy’s desk. Roxy, with her ever–bubbly personality, immediately it up. “Is this for me?” she asked, her eyes wide as she reached for it.
“It’s yours,” I said, setting it down with more force than I intended.
“Oh my gosh, Abby! Yesterday it was French pastries, and today it’s Thai? What’s next, sushi flown in from Japan?” She leaned over the basket, inhaling deeply. “You’re spoiling me. How will I ever go back to cafeteria food after this?”
“All the credit goes to Conrad,” I replied lightly, watching her dig into the containers with childlike glee..
“Whatever he’s done to warrant all this gift–giving, don’t ever forgive him,” she teased, popping a piece of satay into her mouth. “Seriously, Abby, keep holding out so I can keep getting spoiled.”
I shook my head, laughing despite myself. “Enjoy it, Roxy
But my smile faded as I walked back to my desk. I sat down and leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temple tiredly. Conrad’s gestures had become a routine that was always in public, always perfectly timed to draw attention. His campaign for my forgiveness was relentless flowers every morning, lunches that drew stares, gifts that kept the office buzzing with envy. And it was working, at least on everyone else.
“You’re so lucky,” they whispered.
“He’s such a good husband.”
I wanted to scream.
The people around me gossiped behind my back, convinced was living the dream. But they didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know the weight of Susanna’s name; the way it hung between us like a curse.
Still, I didn’t fully blame them. Conrad’s actions painted a picture of a devoted husband. But I knew better. The truth was all these gestures didn’t mean a thing to me. They weren’t enough.
Conrad could send flowers and food every day for the rest of my life, but it wouldn’t erase the real issues between us. What I needed from him wasn’t roses or lunches. It wasn’t jewelry or carefully crafted public displays of devotion. What I needed was for him to stand up for me.
For the sake of our child, Conrad had to be more than a man with a flair for grand gestures. He had to be a husband
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worth staying with, and that went far beyond ambushing the at work with gifts.
I needed him to take a stand for our marriage–and for me. To make me a priority, instead of allowing Susanna to linger on the edges of our relationship like some shadow I could never outrun. If he and Susanna had done nothing inappropriate, then he needed to prove it. He needed to put her in her place and make it clear to her, and to everyone else, that disrespect toward me would no longer be tolerated.
If he could do that, then maybe there was still a chance fors. Maybe this marriage was worth continuing
But if Conrad hadn’t cut ties with Susanna? If he couldn’t or wouldn’t defend me, even now? Then there was no saving us. I would leave him.
I was still young, and I knew I deserved better. Better than a man who would rather scold his wife than stand by her. And my child–our child–deserved more, too. A father who wouldn’t waver when it came to protecting us.
Before that happened, though, I needed to finalize the transfer of the shares Conrad had promised me. With them, I could stand on my own.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me from my thoughts. I fished it out, glancing at the screen. Marceline.
I stared at the name for a moment. Ever since the night I left the Remington estate, my conversations with my mother–in–law had been brief, nothing beyond a few polite texts asking about my wellbeing. Why call me out of the blue?
I pressed the green button and raised the phone to my ear. Marceline, hi,” I said, keeping my voice warm. “It’s been a while. How are you?
“Abigail, darling,” she greeted, her tone as polished as ever “I’m well, thank you. And you?”
“I’m fine,” I said, though the words felt like a half–truth.
“I’m glad to hear that.” She exhaled quietly. “I wanted to talk to you about Conrad.”
My grip tightened on the phone. “What about him?”
There was a pause, long enough for the silence to grow uncomfortable. “He’s been… concerned about you. He mentioned that you’ve been cold lately.”
I almost laughed. Concerned? Cold? The man who had refused to stand by me when Susanna humiliated me in my own home was concerned about my behavior?
“I wonder why that might be,” I said dryly.
“Abigail,” she said, her voice soft but sharp. “Marriage isn’t about holding grudges. Conrad is making an effort
“He’s putting on a show,” I interrupted, my patience thinning. “Yes, he’s bringing me flowers and lunches, but what does that mean if he can’t stand up for me when it matters? If he can’t choose me over Susanna?”
Marceline’s silence was telling. I could picture her on the other end of the line, her lips pursed, weighing her words. “Susanna has been… difficult,” she finally admitted. “But you have to understand, it isn’t easy choosing between family.”
“Family doesn’t give anyone the right to disrespect me.” My voice was firm. “And if Conrad can’t understand…. then we have a bigger problem than flowers can fix.”
“You’re young,” Marceline said. “So, you don’t understand this the way I do. Marriage isn’t about perfection, Abigail. It’s about sticking it out, even when it’s hard.”
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Marriage is a partnership,” I said quietly. “And I’m the only one fighting
Chapter 21 (1)
for this one. This is me sticking it out”
Another pause. This one stretched so long; I thought she might hang up. When Marceline spoke again, there was a note of resignation in her voice, “You’re determined, then.
She sighed before she continued, her voice softening “I wanted to extend an invitation to you. I’m hosting a dinner tonight to celebrate Alexander’s return. It would mean a lot to me if you could join us.”
Her request caught me off guard. I didn’t reply immediately, my mind racing to find an excuse. The thought of returning to that house, of facing Conrad and perhaps Susanna–It was enough to make me want to throw up
But Marceline was a woman I respected. Despite everything she had stood up for me. Alexander’s face flashed in my mind, the way he’d looked when I’d seen him last. Refusing felt… wrong.
“Of course,” I heard myself say, though my heart wasn’t in it. “I’ll be there.”
“Wonderful,” Marceline said, a smile evident in her voice. I’ll see you tonight, then.”
As the call ended, I Sank back in my chair. This wasn’t just dinner–it was a return to the battlefield.
But I’d given my word, and I wouldn’t back down now.
Chapter 21 (2)
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Chapter 21 (2)
Abigail
As 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 to impress anyone. The urge to turn back clawed at me, but I squared my shoulders and moved forward.
The walk up to the front door felt like a march toward doom. As I approached, the sound of laughter drifted toward me from the side of the house, and I turned towards it. That was when I saw him.
Alexander.
He was in his wheelchair, his lean frame draped in a tailored suit, a blanket spread neatly across his lap. A younger man was pushing him, his eyes hidden behind large round glasses. I didn’t recognize him, but I had the feeling I knew him somehow. Where could we have met?
I stepped closer, my lips curving into a faint smile. It’s good to see you again, Alexander,” I said sincerely.” You’re looking well.”
He
gave me one of his rare smiles. “Getting better every day.” His eyes swept over me briefly. “You look beautiful tonight.”
The compliment caught me off guard, and my cheeks warmed slightly. “Thank you,” I murmured.
His gaze shifted then, landing on the car I’d just stepped out of. His expression turned thoughtful. “Though I’m surprised to see you arrive as a guest. This is your home, after all.”
His words landed like a stone in my chest, and my smile faltered. “Something like that,” I said, brushing the comment aside.
Alexander seemed to get the hint I didn’t want to talk about it. He gestured toward the man pushing his chair. ” This is my assistant, Daniel Woods. I don’t think you’ve met before.”
Daniel bowed his head slightly. “It’s good to finally meet you in person, Mrs. Remington.”
The moment he spoke, I knew where I knew him from! He’d once called Conrad’s study phone, seeking permission for some deal, and Conrad hadn’t been around, leading to me answering. I held out my hand to him.” We haven’t met in person before, but we’ve spoken over the phone,” I said to Alexander. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Daniel.”
Daniel shook my hand respectfully, bowing his head. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Before the conversation could continue, the front door creaked open, and I turned to see Conrad stepping out. His eyes zeroed in on me instantly, narrowing when he noticed Daniel.
“Abigail,” he called, striding toward me. His tone was sharp and accusing, “I see now. This is Daniel, isn’t it?
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Daniel Woods? The one who’s been deceiving you with false promises.”
I blinked, taken aback. “What are you talking about?”
Conrad’s gaze flicked to Daniel, then back to me, a storm brewing in his eyes. “He’s been filling your head with nonsense, hasn’t he?” he said, his voice rising. “Don’t let s tricks fool you. He can’t give you the shares you’ve been talking about.”
1 exchanged a confused glance with Daniel, who looked as baken aback as I felt. “Daniel didn’t promise me anything,” I said firmly, my patience wearing thin. “I haven’t met him before tonight! And he certainly didn’t trick me. If we’re talking about promises, Contad, wasn’t it you who said you’d transfer shares to me? Or have you conveniently forgotten?”
Conrad’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. “The shares I promised are from my private company, he snapped. “Not from the family business. Abigail, I don’t even own 10% of the group. Who could possibly give you that much?”
The implication stung, but before I could respond, Alexander spoke, his voice cutting through the tension.
“I could.”
The words hung in the air as we all turned to him, stunned into silence. Alexander leaned back slightly in his wheelchair, his expression calm. “To thank Abigail for her loyalty,” he continued, his voice steady, “I’m willing to transfer 10% of my shares in the family company to her.”
My heart skipped a beat. 10% of Alexander’s shares wasn’t just a gesture–it was power, Influence, and Independence.
“Alexander,” Conrad said, his voice tight with barely concealed anger. “That’s not necessary.”
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Alexander glanced at him. “It isn’t your decision to make.”
The words were a dismissal, plain and simple. Conrad’s face darkened, but he said nothing.
I felt the weight of everyone’s attention on me–Alexander’s calm gaze; Conrad’s simmering anger; Daniel’s barely hidden amusement. I forced myself to speak, though my voice wavered slightly.
“That’s… incredibly generous, Alexander,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “But I wouldn’t feel right accepting such an offer.”
“Nonsense,” he replied smoothly. “You’ve done more for this family than most would care to acknowledge. Consider it a well–deserved reward.”
His words were kind, but they carried an edge, a subtle rebuke aimed squarely at Conrad.
“I’ll have Florence draw up the paperwork,” Alexander added, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Conrad’s eyes flashed with something dangerous, and I could see the effort it took for him to remain silent. As we made our way into the house, Alexander’s words echoed in my mind, filling me with a strange gratitude.
