The Marriage She Turned into War novel Chapter 312

Even though Abigail claimed that she had gone on a business trip, the lingering scent of antiseptic on her clothes told a different story.

I didn't call her out on it. Instead, I decided to wait and see how far she was willing to take the lie. When the truth inevitably came to light, I wondered how she planned to explain it—or if she even would.

After she left, I lay down and closed my eyes, exhaustion pulling me under almost instantly.

In my dreams, I was transported back to the early days of our marriage, specifically to one of the most desperate moments of my life.

I was standing outside Abigail's office, gripping a hospital diagnosis in my sweaty hand. Kayla had just been diagnosed with a severe illness, and I'd rushed there to beg Abigail for help arranging her admission to a hospital.

Beds were scarce, but Abigail had connections at the city's top medical center. One call from her, and Kayla could've been admitted to the hospital immediately.

I pushed open the main doors, urgency written all over my face, only to be stopped abruptly by a security guard.

"Hold it! Who are you, and why are you trying to barge in here?" the guard barked, his face a mask of suspicion.

"Sir, I'm Ms. Bardot's husband," I explained, trying to keep calm. "I need to see her—it's urgent."

The guard frowned, clearly unimpressed. "Ms. Bardot's husband?" He gave me a once-over and scoffed. "I've never seen you before."

I froze. He wasn't wrong—I'd rarely visited Abigail's office since we got married. Most of the older staff had probably moved on, replaced by people who didn't know me.

"I haven't been here much," I admitted, trying to explain.

Frustration clawed at my chest. I didn't know what else to do.

Just as I was about to give up, her assistant, Lisa Turner, walked through the front doors. Relief flooded me as I recognized her—she'd met me before and knew who I was.

"Lisa!" I called, hurrying over. "It's me, Samuel. I need to talk to Abigail. It's really important."

Lisa glanced at me, her expression cold and indifferent.

But Lisa didn't even flinch.

"Sorry, I'm busy," she said, her tone laced with apathy. "And Ms. Bardot's in a meeting. She doesn't have time for... trivial matters."