Divorcing My Husband Over His Stepsister's Secret novel Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Anna’s POV:

“Anna, open the door. I know you’re in there.” Blake’s voice cut through the darkness, tight with barely restrained anger.

Once I realized it was Blake, my racing heart finally settled.

“Blake,” I said, keeping my voice cold and flat. “Midnight visits aren’t exactly gentlemanly, Please go home.”

“Anna.” His voice dropped lower. “Don’t make this difficult. Open the door. Claire is worried about you. She asked me to find you.”

Of course it was Claire. I should have known he wouldn’t come looking for me on his own. He was just following his precious Claire’s orders.

“The code is my birthday,” I said.

I heard the electronic keypad beep several times, followed by the error tone. Again. And again. After the fourth failure, I heard him mutter a curse, followed by the sound of him speaking into his phone.

“Get me a locksmith. Right now.”

Something cold and hard formed in my chest. Four years of marriage, and he couldn’t remember my birthday? Yet he never missed a single one of Claire’s ballet performances, could recite her favorite foods, flowers, and songs without hesitation.

“Is Mr. Wright too busy taking care of someone else to remember his wife’s details?” I called through the door, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

There was a pause, then his voice turned glacial. “Anna, your mom is worried sick. She called Caroline and turned this into a family crisis.”

My mom. Of course.

I stood there for several long moments, weighing my options. Finally, with a resigned sigh, I unlocked the door and opened it just enough to see Blake’s face in the dim hallway light.

“What’s so important that you need to disturb an almost–divorced woman in the middle of the night?” I asked coldly.

Blake’s eyes narrowed as they swept over me. I knew I looked terrible–rumpled clothes, smeared makeup, hair tangled from crying myself to sleep.

1/3

Chapter 15

I saw he frowned, probably catching the faint smell of whiskey on my breath.

Before I could react, Blake pushed the door open wider and grabbed my wrist, his grip firm but not painful this time.

“Your mom called my mom in hysterics,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “My dad overheard and had a cardiac episode. He’s insisting I bring you back home.”

I yanked my arm free. “None of this would have happened if you’d answered my call earlier. I needed your help with Mom’s business problem, but you couldn’t be bothered, could you?”

Something flickered across his face–anger? Guilt? I couldn’t tell in the darkness.

Seeing him stay silent, I let out a bitter laugh. “Wright Estate is your home, Blake. I won’t go there.

You and Claire belong there. I’ve never fit in, and we both know it.”

He stepped forward, forcing me back into the apartment. His expression hardened.

“You’re feeling sorry for yourself?” he asked, voice suddenly sharp as a blade. “What exactly do you

have to complain about, Anna?”

Without waiting for my response, he reached out, brushing aside a strand of hair that had stuck to

my tear–stained cheek. “Look at yourself. You represent the Wright family. No matter how wronged

you feel, you don’t get to embarrass our family name like this.”

I slapped his hand away, the sudden movement making my head spin. A wave of nausea hit me

without warning, and I barely made it to the bathroom before my stomach tebelled. I retched miserably, emptying the whiskey and not much else into the toilet.

Blake leaned against the doorframe, watching with cold detachment, a mocking smile playing at his

lips.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Don’t worry, Mr. Wright,” I said, forcing a smile. “It’s just last night’s alcohol. I’m not pregnant–your perfect bloodline is safe from contamination.”

His expression darkened dangerously. “If you were, I wouldn’t be sure it was mine anyway.”

White–hot anger surged through me. “Oh? We can’t all have relationships as pure as you have with your stepsister, can we?”

Blake’s eyes flashed with something dangerous, his voice dropping to a near–whisper. “You’d better watch your mouth, Anna.”

I brushed past him, walking toward the bathroom, my fingers working on the buttons of my blouse. “Do you have anything else to say, Mr. Wright? If not, please leave. I need a shower.”

2/3

Chapter 15