Abigail’s Office – Frustration and Uncertainty

The luxurious office was silent, the only sound being the rhythmic tapping of Abigail's perfectly manicured nails against the glass desk. The city skyline stretched outside her window, but her mind was far from admiring the view.

She was frustrated.

Not just because Samuel was out of control, but because he was acting differently.

Colder. Unpredictable. Untouchable.

This wasn't the same broken man she had left behind.

Her plan had been simple—she married him to break him, to make him suffer, to watch him drown in misery.

And for a while, it worked.

But now?

"What changed?" she whispered to herself, leaning back in her chair.

Her mind wandered back to college, to the moment she had left him.

At the time, it had felt necessary. Her family and Bardot Company were facing a financial crisis, and her marriage to Samuel was nothing more than a business move.

She had used him.

And now, instead of a defeated, pathetic man still clinging to her, he was… different.

Stronger. Confident. Untouchable.

Was it because of Kayla's death?

Or was there something else?

Her nails dug into the desk, her frustration growing.

"You were supposed to be mine to break, Samuel."

A Confrontation with Abigail

(Samuel's POV)

I was just minding my own business, walking down the street, thinking about grabbing something to eat when suddenly—

SCREECH.

A black Bentley cut me off, stopping directly in front of me.

I didn't even flinch.

I simply smirked as if I actually cared about the owner of the car. "Well, well, if it isn't Abigail Bardot. What do you want, Ms. Bardot?"

The door swung open, and she stormed out—heels clicking against the pavement. Before I could react, she grabbed my collar, her eyes burning with frustration.

"Samuel Gebb!!! I need an explanation! Where the hell were you for weeks!?"

I exhaled, slowly removing her hands from my collar as if they were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

"Why do you even care?" I said, my voice calm but sharp. "And I already told you—after my so-called memory loss, I don't have the slightest memory of you."

Her expression twisted in anger and disbelief.

"Don't lie to me, Samuel! Just come back home!!" she demanded, as if she still had authority over me.

I let out a short laugh, my smirk widening.

"What's the matter, Abigail?" I taunted. "Are your little lovers, Joshua and the other men, not satisfying you? Or wait—let me guess. You want me to hear your moans, right?"

Her face flushed red, but before she could open her mouth, I cut her off.

"You know what? I don't even care." My voice turned cold, my smirk fading. "But don't forget what I told you—if you bring men into our home, then I'll bring women. And let's be honest here… why would I want to have a relationship with a woman who lets other men fuck her?"

Her breath hitched, her fists clenching at her sides. "Samuel! How many times do I have to tell you? It was a setup! I never slept with anyone! And Joshua is just a brand ambassador for my company! We only work as professionals!"

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "You've told me this lie before, Abigail. And I've told you—bring me proof. Show me evidence that you never slept with anyone and that there's nothing between you and Joshua."

I took a step closer, towering over her now.

"But where is the proof, Abigail?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Just silence.

I shook my head, letting out a small chuckle. "That's what I thought."

Abigail's face paled, her body frozen in shock at my words.

I smirked, watching her unravel. "You're already 28, Abigail. Don't you think it's time to think about having Joshua's baby and divorcing me?"

Her eyes widened, her breath hitching. She blinked rapidly, as if she hadn't heard me correctly.

"W-What?" she stammered, her voice shaking.

I tilted my head, my smirk widening. "You heard me. You're wasting your time chasing after me when you could be building a family with your precious Joshua."

Her entire demeanor changed. She stepped forward, her eyes burning with frustration. "Why do you keep bringing up Joshua!? There's nothing between us! How many times do I have to say it!?"

I sighed, running a hand through my long hair, feeling the scar beneath my fingers. My voice dropped into a colder, sharper tone.

"And how many times do I have to say this, Abigail?"

I took a step closer, my presence looming over her.

"Prove it."

She opened her mouth, but I wasn't done.

I chuckled darkly, my expression turning unreadable. "Tell me, Abigail… why should I even trust you? The whole country has seen how you and Joshua act like lovers in front of the media. How you cling to him at business banquets."

She flinched, her fingers tightening into fists. "That's just business—!"

I cut her off.

"Oh? Business?" I sneered. "Was it also business when you brought your little lover Ted into our house?"

Her face went white.

I leaned in slightly, my voice dropping to a mocking whisper.

"Do you remember what you did that night?"

She staggered back, but I kept going.

"He smoked right in my face while smirking at me, treating me like trash in my own home." I let out a small chuckle. "And then, after he was done using you, he went to take a bath… and you made me clean the bed you both fucked on."

Her body trembled, her lips parting slightly, but no words came out.

I didn't stop.

"When I finally asked for a divorce that night, what did you do?" I lifted my long hair, revealing the faint scar on my forehead. "You threw a glass bottle at my head."

She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes darting to the scar.

"You told me you wanted me to suffer a hundred times more than your company and your family did."

Her lips quivered. "S-Samuel… I—"

I cut her off again.

"And let's not forget your final threat that night, Abigail." I grinned, my tone turning taunting. "Even after my death, you said you'd preserve my dead body just so you could torture me for eternity."

She took a shaky step back, her face drained of all color.

I chuckled, my smirk widening.

"Well? I'm waiting. What was your grand plan at the time? Feed me to dogs? Sell my organs for your satisfaction?"

I looked at Abigail, her lips slightly parted, her entire body frozen in place. She wasn't speaking.

Maybe she was thinking.

Maybe she was remembering.

Maybe she was just too stunned to react.

I didn't care.

I exhaled, shoving my hands into my pockets as I spoke casually, my voice completely unbothered.

"You have two choices, Abigail."

Her eyes flickered, but she still said nothing.

I tilted my head, my tone turning sharper. "Either you bring me proof that you're telling the truth… or you give me the divorce papers."

I let my words sink in.

Then, with a small smirk, I added, "Because I'm done with your manipulations."

She remained silent.

I couldn't tell what she was thinking, and honestly?

It wasn't my concern anymore.

Without another word, I simply turned around and walked away.

I didn't look back.

Because Abigail Bardot and her mind games no longer had a place in my life.