The Wife He Left For Dead

ew) ke setiap bab sesuai dengan permintaan An

e bathroom floor while my husband ignored m

a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, my husband arrive

to drink tequila days after surgery, watchi

the shot glass and shoved the alcohol do

imson soaked my dress

t Elsa, who was "sh

billionaire next door, who shielded my dignity

-winning" designs Gideon had gifted Elsa were actua

le, obedient wife who would

were

pted Alva's offer, and prepared to b

pte

lia

ebration, not a silent plea for help echoing in an empty house while

wn. The dining table sparkled with candlelight, reflecting off the crystal glasses I' d polished myself. I even wore the silk slip dress Gideon bough

came and went. Then eight. I sent a text, "Dinner's ready, love. Missing you

ual friend, Elsa Rodgers. It was a selfie of her and Gideon, both beaming, champagne flutes in hand. The caption read: "So pro

r? Launch party? He had told me he had a "client emergency" that couldn't wait. He'd said

nd Elsa, his smile wider than I' d seen it in months. There

in in my lower abdomen. I clutched my stomach, trying to breathe through it. It had been coming and go

ne untouched. I blew out the candles one by one, the smoke curling upwards like my shattered dreams. The silk dres

for after so many months of trying, so many disappointments. I' d wanted to tell Gideon tonight, make it a surpr

ose, I knew I couldn' t. Not tonight. Not ever, if this was how he saw our life

he pregnancy test said about severe pain. It didn't say anything. I just remembered the joy, the tiny, fragile ho

as the pain made my jaw clench. I drank some wat

belly, seizing my muscles. I stumbled to the bathroom, my vision blurring. A col

nderwear. My heart hammered against my ribs.

fear of losing this tiny life I had just found, this little piece of hope in my deso

ngers slick with sweat. I called him again. And again. No answer. His "cli

gony slammed into me, knocking the air from my lungs. My legs gave ou

y last miscarriage scare. "Any severe pain, any bleeding

he world tilted. My calls to Gideon went unanswered, swallowed by

ghbor? Alva Booker? He was reclusive, a man of few words, hardly ever se

I squeezed my eyes shut, a whimper escaping my lips. The knocking sto

es, months ago, when Gideon was away on a 'business tr

oorway. Alva. His usually stoic face was etched with concern as h

er heard from him. He was beside me in an instant, his hands

eaming down my face. "The bab

ng, and carried me out of the house, my head lolling against his shoulder. The world spun. He la

Alva's frantic questions. I could only manage gasps

cold, sterile room. Alva was there, a steady presenc

say, their voice distant, muffled. "We need to o

y mind, a death knell. It wasn'

fresh incision. The room was quiet, sterile. No Gideon. Only Alva,

gers, you had a successful surgery. You're very

whispered, my

. We had to remove the ruptured fallopi

ling what little breath I had. Gone. My bab

se continued, oblivious to my internal s

nd was now staring at me with profound sadn

ged, the bitterness a me

a lot of rest. And someone to help you through this.

l bedside table. A faint glow from my phone. I reached for it, my fing

an award. His arm was still around her. He was beaming. His "best friend"

rse, "You almost didn't make it," replayed in my head. He had ignor

itals, then turned to Alva. "We need to ensure Ms. Rogers has proper care during her recovery. E

e devoid of emotion, "is already here." I glanced pointedly at the phone on the table, its