Divorcing My Husband Over His Stepsister's Secret novel Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Anna’s POV:

Our argument moved to the bedroom because Blake was afraid that our quarrel would affect Claire. What a considerate and kind stepbrother he was!

“Blake Wright, if I remember correctly, I’ve already asked for a divorce. You no longer have any right to control me.” The words left my mouth with more confidence than I felt.

Blake’s eyes turned to ice as he stared me down. “If I don’t have the right, who does? You’re bringing up divorce at this point? Are you trying to kill my father faster?”

“You find it funny to mention my position as Mrs. Wright now?” I crossed my arms, feeling the throb of my concussion behind my eyes. “If you hadn’t said anything, I’d have thought this house had two mistresses all along.”

Anger flickered across Blake’s face. “Anna, you’ve gotten quite good at being passive- aggressive. She’s my sister. Do you really think I could do something inappropriate with her? Don’t let your imagination run wild.”

“Whether you’ve crossed lines or not, I honestly don’t know. I have no proof.” I stepped closer, my voice rising. “But you’ve allowed her to cross boundaries. Blake, if you cared at all about our family, you’d understand the concept of ‘avoiding suspicion.“”

Blake’s expression turned dismissive. “We’ve lived this way for years, and you never complained before.”

“Yes,” I admitted, feeling bone–tired suddenly. “And I’ve had enough of it.”

“Huh, you’ve become quite the changeable woman, haven’t you?”

“Blakey?” Claire’s voice drifted through the door. “My legs are sore because of the dance

practice, you know. Could you please give me a massage?”

My mouth fell open. The audacity–asking my husband to massage her legs.

Blake looked between me and the door, his jaw tightening before he left without another word.

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8:11 pm GMMG

Chapter 11

The rush of anger, frustration, and helplessness overwhelmed me. I suddenly felt the room spun around me–and then everything went black.

I woke to Martha’s worried face hovering over me.

“Mrs. Wright! Thank goodness,” Martha sighed, her hands fluttering anxiously. “I’ll get Mr. Wright right away.”

Before I could protest, she hurried from the room. I tried to sit up but immediately

regretted it as nausea rolled through me in waves.

Blake appeared in the doorway. His voice was detached, clinical. “Mild concussion. Feeling

better?”

“I was just trying to-” I began, but the moment I opened my mouth, my head spun viciously, and I clutched at the bedsheets to anchor myself.

Something flickered in Blake’s eyes–concern, perhaps?-before his expression hardened

again. “This is the last time, Anna. No more of these self–destructive stunts.”

The accusation in his voice sparked my temper. “That depends on you. If you dare cross me again, I’ll kill myself just to show you.”

Right at that moment, Martha entered with a bowl of corn soup. Without warning, Blake

grabbed it from her hands and smashed it against the floor. Porcelain shards and soup sprayed across the hardwood.

“Threatening me with suicide?” Blake roared, kicking over a nearby chair. “Anna, don’t push me to my limits. There can’t be a next time, or you’ll regret it!”

The fury in his voice shocked me into silence. He stormed out, leaving Martha staring

wide–eyed at the mess.

“Mr. Wright really does care about you,” Martha said quietly, kneeling to pick up the

broken pieces. “When you were unconscious, he…”

“Just bring me another bowl of soup, please,” I cut her off, not wanting to hear whatever

excuse she’d concocted for his behavior.

Days passed, and I remained confined to our home, recovering. I saw neither Blake nor

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Chapter 11

Claire during this time.

Their disappearance for good has just calmed me down, allowing me to do what I want to

1. do. I pulled out my old textbooks. Surprisingly, the material came back quickly, like muscle memory.

One night, I was deep in sleep when the smell of whiskey roused me. Opening my eyes, I

found Blake’s face inches from mine, his lips pressed against my neck. His body was a solid weight against mine, familiar and yet somehow different after our weeks of distance.

“Awake?” His voice was husky as his fingers traced my lips. He nipped at my earlobe,

sending shivers down my spine. “Be a good wife and play along.”

Before I could process what was happening, his hands slipped under my nightgown, warm and insistent against my skin.

“Blake, are you crazy?” I gasped, trying to wriggle away.

But my body betrayed me, responding to his touch despite my anger.

“Getting excited already?” Blake murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “I’ll make sure you’re satisfied tonight.“”

I bit my wrist to stifle the sounds threatening to escape me, not wanting to give him the