The CEO’s Hidden Wife

Chapter 18

Harrison’s POV

The crystal paperweight hit me harder than I expected.

Not enough to knock me backward.

Not enough to make me lose balance.

But enough.

The sharp corner struck the side of my forehead with a brutal crack before falling to the marble floor and rolling beneath the console table.

For a second, everything went silent.

Then I felt it.

Warmth.

Slowly sliding down the side of my face.

Blood.

A servant gasped somewhere behind me.

“Sir!”

I barely reacted.

My eyes stayed fixed upstairs.

On the bedroom door Raina had just slammed shut hard enough to shake the hallway frames.

The sting in my forehead felt distant compared to the look she’d given me seconds earlier.

That look.

Not anger.

Not sadness.

Not even disappointment.

Something worse.

Detachment.

Like she had finally stopped caring whether I stayed or left.

I lifted my hand absently and touched the cut.

When I pulled my fingers away, they were stained red.

One of the older servants hurried forward with a first-aid kit in trembling hands.

“S-Sir, your injury…”

“It’s fine.”

My voice sounded flat even to myself.

“But you’re bleeding…”

“I said it’s fine.”

The servant immediately stepped back.

I looked upstairs again.

The bedroom remained closed.

No movement.

No sound.

Nothing.

And for some reason…

That bothered me more than the blood running down my temple.

Because once upon a time, Raina would’ve panicked over something like this.

She hated seeing me hurt.

Even when she was angry.

The memory surfaced before I could stop it.

Three years ago.

A business dinner downtown.

One of the investors had dropped a champagne glass during a toast, and the shattered stem sliced across my palm while I reached for a document.

The cut hadn’t even been deep.

But Raina had looked furious.

Terrified too.

“You need stitches,” she snapped while sitting beside me in the backseat afterward, wrapping my hand herself with trembling fingers.

“It’s a scratch.”

“It is literally dripping blood on your suit!”

“You’re overreacting.”

“And you’re impossible.”

I remembered the way she stayed awake the entire night afterward just to make sure I didn’t reopen the wound.

Back then…

Even her anger carried care underneath it.

Now?

There was nothing underneath it anymore.

And that realization irritated me far more than it should have.

I turned sharply and walked away.

Sophia’s POV

Humiliation burned through me so violently it felt physical.

The servants had watched me get thrown out.

Thrown out.

Like I was some desperate woman forcing myself into a home where I didn’t belong.

My grip tightened around the suitcase handle until my fingers hurt.

Raina West was becoming a problem.

A serious one.

At first, manipulating her had been easy.

Too easy.

Emotional women always cracked eventually.

Push them hard enough and they either screamed, begged, or broke.

Raina used to break beautifully.

That was what made her predictable.

But now?

Something was changing.

She was pulling away emotionally.

And that terrified me.

Because Harrison was finally starting to notice.

I heard footsteps approaching behind me.

“Harrison.”

Instantly, I softened my expression.

Shoulders lowered.

Eyes gentled.

Voice weakened slightly.

A perfect performance born from years of survival.

People always underestimated how exhausting it was to play fragile all the time.

Harrison stopped in front of me.

Blood stained the side of his forehead.

My eyes widened immediately.

“Harrison! You’re hurt!”

“It’s nothing.”

Nothing?

I frowned internally.

Usually injuries created opportunities.

Concern.

Closeness.

Emotional openings.

Tonight, though…

He looked distracted.

Cold.

Like half of his attention was still upstairs behind Raina’s bedroom door.

I lowered my gaze carefully.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered softly. “I didn’t mean to upset her. I thought staying here would make things easier for you.”

Silence.

Then:

“You shouldn’t have come without confirming it with me first.”

The words weren’t harsh.

But they weren’t warm either.

And that tiny difference unsettled me more than yelling would have.

“I know,” I murmured.

He exhaled slowly and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I already prepared Dragon Bay for you.”

The penthouse.

Private staff.

Security.

Doctors.

Everything arranged perfectly.

Because Harrison solved problems by organizing them.

Controlling them.

Containing them.

And lately…

I was beginning to feel less like someone he cared about and more like another responsibility he needed to manage.

“I’ll have the driver take you there.”

I looked up quickly.

“You’re not coming?”

“I have things to handle.”

Again.

That answer again.

Something cold flashed briefly inside me before disappearing.

“Harrison…” I softened my voice further. “I’m not feeling very well.”

This time, he studied me carefully.

Too carefully.

And suddenly I regretted speaking.

Because Harrison Grant noticed details most people missed.

Body language.

Breathing.

Eye movement.

Timing.

He looked at people the same way he looked at business deals.

Analyzing weak points.

And for the first time since Ethan died…

He was looking at me like he was trying to figure something out.

“What hurts?”

“My stomach,” I answered quickly. “Probably stress.”

“You should rest then.”

I hesitated.

Then took the risk anyway.

“…Could you stay with me tonight?”

There.

Direct.

Simple.

Calculated.

His expression didn’t change.

But his eyes cooled slightly.

“I’ll send the family doctor.”

“Harrison…”

“If it gets worse, go to the hospital.”

His tone ended the conversation immediately.

Then he turned around.

And walked away.

Without looking back.

I stared after him silently as frustration slowly crawled beneath my skin.

Because something was slipping.

And I hated losing control.

Especially after everything I sacrificed to get this close.

People always looked at me and saw the grieving widow.

The fragile woman abandoned by fate.

None of them knew the truth.

None of them knew how hard I worked to survive.

To climb.

To stay relevant.

Years ago, before Ethan, before marriage, before tragedy…

There had been another version of me.

A poor scholarship student constantly standing outside circles I desperately wanted access to.

And Harrison Grant had always stood at the center of those circles.

Untouchable.

Brilliant.

Cold.

I still remembered the first time I saw him properly.

University gala.

Black suit.

Silver watch.

The entire room revolved around him without him even trying.

Girls chased him constantly.

He ignored all of them.

Including me.

Especially me.

Until Ethan introduced us.

“Stop glaring at my best friend,” Ethan had laughed back then. “You look like you’re planning corporate warfare.”

I’d smiled sweetly.

But deep down…

I had already understood something dangerous.

Men like Harrison never fell in love easily.

But once they accepted responsibility for someone?

They never let go.

That was his weakness.

Loyalty.

Duty.

Guilt.

Especially guilt.

And after Ethan died…

I learned exactly how to use it.

Raina’s POV

I should’ve changed the password.

That was the first thought that hit me the moment I walked into the bedroom and saw Harrison standing near my desk.

The soft glow from my laptop illuminated the sharp lines of his face as he stared at the screen.

My screen.

My resignation letter.

Perfect.

I tightened my grip around the towel in my hand.

“What are you doing here?”

He turned immediately.

For a split second…

He actually looked caught.

Almost guilty.

Then the expression disappeared so fast I nearly thought I imagined it.

His eyes moved over me slowly.

Too slowly.

My damp hair.

Bare shoulders.

The thin silk nightdress clinging lightly against my skin from the moisture left behind after my shower.

Heat flickered briefly in his gaze.

Then possession followed immediately after.

Instinctive.

Automatic.

Like he still believed I belonged to him.

Disgust twisted sharply inside my chest.

“Harrison,” I said coldly while walking past him toward the vanity, “if you came here to argue again, leave.”

I shut the laptop calmly.

Too late now anyway.

If he saw the resignation letter, good.

Let him.

“This is still my room too.”

I laughed softly.

Sharp.

Bitter.

“What happened to giving me space?” I asked. “Or was that another temporary promise?”

“I changed my mind.”

Of course he did.

Men like Harrison never compromised.

They paused.

That was different.

I tossed the towel aside carelessly.

“Does Sophia know you’re here acting pathetic?”

His eyes darkened instantly.

“Why do you keep bringing her up?”

“Because she keeps appearing in my marriage.”

“Our marriage,” he corrected sharply.

I stared at him.

Long.

Tired.

Completely exhausted.

Then I smiled faintly.

“That’s the problem, Harrison.”

My voice dropped lower.

“There shouldn’t be a marriage anymore.”

The room went still.

Dangerously still.

“You keep saying divorce like it’s already decided.”

“It is.”

“No.”

That single word snapped through the air immediately.

Controlled.

Absolute.

Infuriating.

I folded my arms tightly.

“You don’t get to decide that alone.”

“You’re emotional right now.”

I almost laughed from disbelief.

“Emotional?” I repeated quietly. “You bring another woman into our home while still married to me and I’m emotional?”

“She had nowhere else to go.”

“She apparently has an entire penthouse.”

Silence.

His jaw tightened slightly.

Good.

“I already told you,” he said carefully now, “Sophia and I are not what you think.”

“Then tell me what I’m supposed to think.”

My voice cracked sharper this time.

“Tell me what normal husband abandons his wife repeatedly for another woman.”

He stepped closer suddenly.

Too close.

“You’re my wife.”

“And she’s what?”

That stopped him.

Briefly.

But not long enough.

“She’s Ethan’s responsibility.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“Ethan is dead.”

The words landed brutally between us.

“You are not responsible for his widow forever!”

“She’s pregnant!”

“And I am your wife!”

The shout ripped out of me before I could stop it.

Silence crashed down immediately afterward.

Heavy.

Suffocating.

Neither of us had ever said it out loud before.

Not like that.

Not honestly.

Something shifted slightly in his expression.

Uncertainty.

Guilt.

Then it disappeared again.

“She’s vulnerable right now.”

I laughed softly.

Broken.

“And what am I?”

That question unsettled him.

I saw it clearly.

Good.

Because I was tired of hurting alone in this marriage.

His gaze suddenly shifted toward the laptop.

“The resignation letter,” he said slowly. “You’re leaving the company?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t.”

“I already did.”

“You’re being irrational.”

“No,” I replied quietly. “I’m finally thinking clearly.”

Something darker flashed across his face then.

Something colder.

“Is this because of that man?”

I froze.

Slowly.

“What?”

“The one from the hospital.”

Park.

Of course.

The sheer insult of it made my vision blur with rage.

“Harrison…”

“Is that why you suddenly want freedom so badly?”

The slap happened before I consciously decided to move.

CRACK.

The sound echoed violently through the bedroom.

His head turned slightly from the impact.

My palm burned instantly afterward.

But not nearly as much as the fury exploding inside me.

“How dare you.”

My voice shook now.

Not from weakness.

From rage.

“How dare you drag him into this.”

Harrison slowly turned back toward me.

A red mark spread across his cheek.

His eyes had gone terrifyingly unreadable.

“Raina.”

“No.”

I stepped backward immediately.

Shaking.

Furious.

Heartbroken.

Done.

“I never want to see you again.”

Something hardened inside his expression at those words.

Cold pride replacing emotion instantly.

“Do you really think,” he asked quietly, “you can survive without me?”

There it was.

Finally.

The truth underneath everything.

Not love.

Control.

Power.

Ownership.

“You’ve lived under my protection for seven years.”

I laughed softly.

Empty.

Devastated.

“And that’s exactly why I’m leaving.”

For the first time since entering the room…

Harrison had no immediate response.

And somehow…

That silence hurt him more than the slap.

He stared at me for several long seconds.

Then finally turned around.

And walked out.

The bedroom door shut quietly behind him.

No shouting.

No final argument.

Just silence.

The kind that felt permanent.

And for the first time in years…

I cried without trying to hide it.