My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage

Chapter 156:

Kristopher reached to unbutton her clothes but paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Excuse me, my wife needs to change,” he said softly, the words directed at Nate. Yet his gaze, filled with a tenderness Carrie found nearly unbearable, never left her face.

Nate’s lips curved into a practiced smile, but the glint in his eyes was sharp and unyielding. His tone, honeyed with venom, broke the quiet tension. “Mr. Norris, you truly live up to your reputation. Even when standing at the edge of divorce, you manage to play the doting husband.”

Kristopher’s hand moved with deliberate gentleness as he tucked a stray strand of Carrie’s hair behind her ear. “Honey,” he murmured, “when did we decide to get divorced?”

Suppressing the storm brewing within, Carrie forced a faint smile and turned to Nate. “Mr. Crawford,” she said, her voice even, “don’t let baseless rumors mislead you.” Despite her composed words, Carrie’s pallor was undeniable.

Her hair clung to her damp forehead, and her usually spirited eyes shimmered with a quiet melancholy. Nate’s mind betrayed him, conjuring an image of her vulnerability—her whispered “no,” the softness of her trembling lips, her futile resistance. A flush of heat prickled beneath his collar, and he tugged at it uncomfortably.

“Ah, so they’re just rumors,” he said, his tone measured. “I’ll take my leave then.” His gaze lingered on Carrie, carrying a weight of unspoken desire. He had been too impulsive before, his eagerness driving her into Kristopher’s arms. But two years had only stoked his obsession, sharpening his hunger to possess her. This time, he could wait.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his steps decisive, leaving the room heavy with his unspoken intentions.

The moment Nate disappeared through the door, the forced warmth in Carrie’s expression vanished, replaced by icy detachment. Kristopher misinterpreted the change, his concern immediately shifting to the red mark on her face. His eyes darkened, the tenderness now replaced with a simmering anger. Her skin, so delicate, bore the evidence of violence that should have never touched her.

When he first heard what had happened, he had ordered a thorough investigation, unearthing every misdeed those two thugs had ever committed. He made sure they wouldn’t see freedom for at least a decade. But even that couldn’t extinguish the fire of his rage. The thought of those men laying their filthy hands on her filled him with an unrelenting fury.

His frustration spilled over as he shoved a set of clean clothes into her arms. “You’re not a child, Carrie,” he scolded, his voice sharp. “Yet you act like one, running off recklessly the moment you get upset. If something had happened…” He stopped, his words trailing off into an unspoken abyss of fear and anger.

Carrie’s eyes widened in disbelief. Tears brimmed, though she fought to keep them from falling.

When she had been at her most vulnerable, staring into the abyss of something unspeakable, Kristopher hadn’t been there. Yet now, when the danger had passed, he returned, not to comfort her but to reprimand. The weight of his words crushed something inside her. She wanted to cry, to scream, but exhaustion—both of her body and her heart—sapped her strength.

Turning her face away, her voice was low and cold. “If something had happened, I would have just died.” The words hung in the air, a stark declaration of her profound loneliness.

The room’s atmosphere turned glacial. Nearby police and nurses exchanged bewildered glances, unable to reconcile the couple’s previous facade of affection with their current hostility.

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