The CEO’s Hidden Wife

Chapter 3

Harrison’s POV

“I’m sorry, Harrison… it’s all my fault for being so weak.”

Sophie’s voice trembled again.

Always like that now.

Soft. Fragile. Carefully broken at the edges, as if she had learned exactly how much vulnerability a man could tolerate before he stopped listening.

The room was dim, lit only by a warm bedside lamp that made everything look gentler than it was. Hospital-grade medication sat on the table beside me, still sealed. I picked it up, shook it lightly, then handed it to her without hesitation.

Her fingers brushed mine as she took it.

Cold.

Deliberate.

“I caused trouble at your company again,” she whispered, lowering her head. “And now you had to come all the way here… I’m just dragging you down.”

I exhaled slowly.

Not irritation.

Not impatience.

Something flatter.

Older.

“We’ve known each other too long for you to start saying things like that now,” I said.

My voice sounded like it belonged to someone performing a routine.

Not someone feeling anything.

“Ethan saved my life,” I added after a beat. “Taking care of you and the child is… the least I can do.”

Ethan.

The name always changed the air when it appeared.

Like a door that never fully closed.

Sophie’s lashes lowered.

For a second, something flickered in her expression. Not sadness. Not relief either. Something sharper. But it vanished quickly, replaced by the familiar softness she wore like a second skin.

She smiled.

“Did Raina like the necklace?” she asked gently. “The one we picked together.”

I paused.

Just briefly.

Then…

“Mhm.”

A single sound.

Flat. Controlled.

Safe.

Sophie noticed anyway.

Of course she did.

Her smile deepened slightly, but her fingers tightened around the blanket.

“That’s good,” she said softly. “She seemed a bit upset earlier. I was worried she might misunderstand… or get angry.”

I leaned back slightly, adjusting my cufflinks.

“She won’t,” I said.

It came out automatically.

Almost reflexive.

“Raina doesn’t hold grudges.”

A simple truth.

Or at least… it had always been.

Sophie nodded as if reassured.

“She really loves you,” she said lightly, almost conversational. “She even gave up her career path just to work under you at Grant Global. That kind of devotion… is rare.”

Something in my chest shifted.

Not discomfort.

Just awareness.

“She’ll understand everything you do for me,” Sophie added.

I didn’t answer immediately.

Because strangely…

I didn’t feel the need to disagree.

“Mhm,” I said again.

That was enough.

It always had been.

Sophie relaxed into the pillow.

“Get some rest,” I said, already turning slightly. “I’ll stay in the living room if you need anything.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “Thank you, Harrison.”

I left the room quietly.

The door clicked shut behind me.

And just like that…

The air changed.

Outside, the hallway felt colder. Not physically. Structurally. Like the silence here had more weight than inside.

I loosened my tie.

Raina.

Her name surfaced without permission.

I hadn’t expected her reaction earlier.

Divorce.

She had said it like she was reading a report.

Clean. Final. Unshaken.

That wasn’t like her.

Raina was many things, but never… detached.

She argued.

She persisted.

She got emotional in ways that usually resolved themselves within hours or days.

Then she came back.

Always came back.

I leaned against the wall, rubbing my thumb against my wrist absentmindedly.

It wasn’t the first time she had acted out like this.

There were patterns if you paid attention.

Anniversaries she over-celebrated.

Silences she stretched too long.

The way she looked at me sometimes… like she was waiting for something I didn’t know I was supposed to give.

And yet…

She never left.

Not really.

Even when the West family collapsed.

Even when she had nothing.

I remembered that night clearly.

No stability. No safety net. Just a girl standing too straight for someone whose world had just fallen apart.

I had brought her into the Grant household myself.

Not out of sentiment.

Out of obligation.

Grandmother Noelle insisted on it.

A marriage contract formed like a corporate merger.

And I had agreed.

Because it was efficient.

Because it solved a problem.

Because Raina… was predictable.

She looked at me like I was inevitable.

Even on our wedding day, she had smiled like she was stepping into something she had been waiting for all her life.

Too intense.

Too certain.

Too devoted.

I had noticed it then.

And still, I accepted it.

Because it made everything simpler.

I exhaled.

Sophie’s voice echoed faintly from inside the room.

“She’s so lucky,” she had said once before. “To be your wife.”

Lucky.

I didn’t think about that word often.

But now, standing alone in the corridor, I found myself repeating it internally.

Raina wasn’t impulsive.

She wasn’t reckless.

She wasn’t someone who would just walk away over one argument.

Not after three years.

Not after everything.

This was anger.

Temporary.

A reaction.

By morning… she would cool down.

She always did.

And when she did, she would return to the pattern.

Work. Silence. Soft compliance. Familiar rhythm.

Just like before.

I checked my phone.

No messages.

Still off.

A small irritation flickered.

Not concern.

Control loss.

That was all.

I straightened my jacket and walked toward the elevator.

Tomorrow, I would deal with it.

Divorce papers, if she still insisted.

She would not go through with it.

Raina West didn’t leave things unfinished.

And she certainly didn’t leave me.

That was the only thing I had ever been completely certain of.

Or so I thought.

Raina’s POV

Morning didn’t arrive softly.

It forced its way in through the curtains like an obligation I couldn’t ignore anymore.

My body hadn’t moved all night.

Not since I sank to the floor.

Not since the silence swallowed everything and refused to give it back.

The cold had seeped into my bones in layers, slow and thorough, until even pain felt far away. Only emptiness remained… quiet, stretched thin, and oddly patient.

Then my phone rang.

Once.

Twice.

A third time, more insistent.

By the fifth, I finally reached for it, my fingers stiff as if they belonged to someone else.

“Raina? You’re up already?” Grandma Noelle’s voice came through, bright and warm in a way that made my chest tighten immediately. “Have you eaten?”

For a second, I just held the phone.

Because her voice always did that.

Made me feel like I was still someone worth waiting for.

“I just woke up,” I said quickly, forcing lightness into my tone. “What about you, Grandma? You didn’t skip breakfast again, did you?”

A soft laugh echoed through the line.

“Of course not. I made congee this morning. Shrimp and matsutake mushrooms. Your favorite.” She paused, then added gently, “Come over. It’s Saturday. Bring Harrison with you.”

Harrison.

My fingers stilled slightly.

I almost said it.

That he hadn’t come home.

That the side of the bed had stayed untouched.

That I had fallen asleep alone in a house too large for silence.

But the words never made it out.

“I’ll be there soon,” I said instead, smiling into nothing. “Save me a big bowl.”

“Good girl,” she replied warmly.

When the call ended, the quiet returned immediately.

Heavier this time.

I stayed seated on the floor for a moment longer, staring at nothing.

Then I forced myself up.

The moment I moved, pain shot through my ankle, sharp, immediate, almost vindictive. My breath hitched as I grabbed the table for balance.

Still swollen.

Still there.

Still real.

I reached for the pain relief spray and used it quickly, biting down on the discomfort as I wrapped it carefully. Routine movements. Controlled. Practiced.

Because nothing about last night was supposed to exist today.

I chose my clothes carefully.

Soft tones. Nothing loud. Nothing that would invite questions.

The kind of dress Grandma liked to see me in, safe, gentle, uncontroversial.

Then makeup.

Layer by layer.

Until exhaustion, sleeplessness, everything I couldn’t afford to show… disappeared beneath something acceptable.

A version of me that could function.

The Grant family estate was as imposing as ever when I arrived.

Too polished to feel warm.

Too perfect to feel real.

And waiting, as always, in the pavilion garden…

Helen Grant.

Sitting like she had already decided the outcome of today’s conversation.

“Sit,” she said without looking up.

I obeyed.

Because that was what I had learned early in this family.

Obedience wasn’t optional. It was expected.

“You drank the tonic yesterday,” she said immediately.

It wasn’t a question.

A statement disguised as one.

“I didn’t,” I replied calmly. “And I won’t.”

Her hand paused mid-motion.

Slowly, she looked up.

“Excuse me?”

I met her eyes.

Steady.

Unflinching.

“I said I didn’t drink it.”

The teacup hit the table harder than necessary.

“You’re refusing me now?” she snapped. “Do you have any idea what I went through to get that prescription? Do you think women like you get another chance at this family easily?”

Women like you.

That phrase again.

Like I was something temporary.

Replaceable.

I exhaled quietly.

“I know exactly what I am to this family,” I said. “That’s why I’ve tolerated a lot more than I should have.”

Her expression darkened instantly.

“Tolerated?”

“Yes.”

The air between us tightened.

I didn’t stop.

“When my parents were alive,” I continued, voice steady, “you called us family. You sat at our table. You smiled at my mother.”

A flicker.

Just a flicker.

“But now,” I added, “you speak about them like they never mattered.”

Her lips tightened.

“You don’t get to bring them up…”

“I do,” I cut in softly. “Because I remember them differently than you do.”

Silence fell.

Sharp. Heavy.

Then her voice turned colder.

“Three years of marriage,” she said sharply. “And not a single child. Tell me, Raina, what exactly are you contributing to this family?”

The question landed like a slap dressed in etiquette.

I let it sit there for a second.

Then I looked at her.

“Having a child requires two people,” I said evenly.

Her eyes widened slightly.

The calmness in my voice unsettled her more than anger would have.

“How are you so certain the issue is me?” I added.

A pause.

Then…

“What are you implying?”

A faint smile touched my lips.

Not warm.

Not kind.

Just precise.

“I’m implying,” I said, “that you’ve only ever looked at me when something goes wrong. You never once considered looking at your son.”

Her face flushed instantly.

“Harrison is perfectly fine!” she snapped. “His health reports are flawless. He’s twenty-nine, Raina. Don’t you dare question him.”

I tilted my head slightly.

Almost thoughtful.

“Then I suppose I should be healthier,” I said lightly. “I’m younger.”

That shut her up.

For half a second.

Then her anger returned full force.

“You’ve been pretending all these years,” she hissed. “Acting obedient, acting respectful, this is your true face.”

I stood slowly.

Chair legs scraped softly against stone.

“If there’s nothing else,” I said, “I’m going to see Grandma.”

Her teacup shattered behind me.

I didn’t turn around.

I didn’t need to.

Every step toward the stairs felt heavier than the last, my ankle already protesting the movement.

Halfway up…

Pain exploded.

Sudden. Brutal.

My vision blurred instantly as my foot slipped slightly on the step.

No…

I tried to steady myself.

Too late.

My body tilted forward…

And I was falling.

But I didn’t hit the ground.

An arm caught me first.

Strong. Fast. Certain.

Warmth grounded me instantly, pulling me back from impact before I could register what was happening.

A steady grip locked around my waist.

And then a voice, low and unfamiliar, brushed near my ear.

“You okay?”