His Unloved Wife

CHAPTER 8

His heart skipped a beat as he looked out at the sparkling metropolis, suddenly vulnerable.

Finally, he said, "But what about Angela?" "How do we tell her this? The main cause of our marriage."

The unsaid truth lingered in the air as his voice faltered. It seemed that the contract marriage, a last-ditch effort to protect his wealth, was more precarious than ever.

Emily's face became more pleasant. “Maybe this is Carl's moment to tell her the truth. Be honest with her about the inheritance and the circumstances of your marriage. Being sincere with her might be the starting point for a genuine connection."

Carl considered what his mother had said. Being truthful with Angela carried a risk, but would it hold the secret to escaping the web of lies and creating a future built on mutual trust? He glanced at his parents, who had worried expressions mixed with a glimmer of optimism. Perhaps, just perhaps, this was an opportunity for a fresh start, not just for the business, but also for his relationship with Angela.

Carl stepped back inside, his head a tornado of feelings, yet the chilly night air held the weight of the discovery. In the library, he saw Angela staring at the crackling fireplace with a book left on her lap. He hesitantly walked up to her.

He said, "Angela," his voice hesitatingly deep.

With a flare of defiance that was soon covered up by a cold indifference, she turned. "Yes?"

After inhaling deeply, he said, "There's something you need to know. It's about my inheritance, the reason for our... arrangement."

With a voice that was scarcely audible at first, he began telling the tale of Marvin's unexpected arrival and the long-kept secret of his father's affair. Angela's eyes mirrored the swirling flames, her face inscrutable as he spoke.

After he was done, they were enveloped in a thick hush. Carl prepared himself for her rage and her charges, but all she did was chuckle pitifully.

"So, the whole thing was a lie?" she said in an emotionless voice.

"It's not complete," Carl stumbled. "I may have needed the marriage to secure my position, but..."

"But nothing," she interrupted, her tone becoming harsher. “Carl, you purchased me. In your game, you used me like a pawn."

The sharpness of her remarks made him wince. "That's not how I see it, Angela. You're not simply a piece of paper”.

"Am I?" she said, getting to her feet and igniting her fire spirit once again. “Tell me, what's your knowledge about me? My goals, my desires? Did you ever care to inquire?"

A twinge of remorse shot through Carl's chest. He shook his head, seeming ashamed. "No, I haven't."

Unshed tears burned in her eyes. "Exactly. Carl, we're strangers sharing a roof because of a contract. A contract that may not even be enforceable today."

Her remarks had a profound effect on me. His carefully built world was collapsing all around him. He extended his hand to soothe her, but she pulled away, her eyes full of anguish and a renewed sense of resolution.

Her voice was stern as she said, "I need some time to think. Maybe we both do."

She then turned and left, leaving Carl feeling completely confused and alone as he stood among the enormous shelves of unopened books.

There was an oppressive quiet and the night went on forever. He could not sleep. Angela's remarks and his mounting doubt about everything, including the firm, his fortune, and most significantly, his future with her, toyed with him as he tossed and turned.

Carl was certain of one thing as dawn began to peek through the window. This marked a sea change. He had two options: either keep going in this dishonest direction, or take a risk and attempt to develop a genuine relationship with Angela, one that was founded on openness, confidence, and maybe even love.

Two weeks tormented Angela's inquisitiveness. With a little disobedience and a lot of curiosity, Angela made the decision to investigate Carl's secret study. She had never ventured inside that chamber, which he zealously guarded as his fortress. She turned the door and peered inside, her pulse pounding.

Carl's personality was reflected in the room, which was near but yet unexpectedly cozy. The walls were covered with volumes with leather bindings and framed pictures in between. Her gaze landed on a specific image on his desk, a golden frame reflecting the early morning light. A plump-cheeked infant was in the arms of a carefree, youthful Carl who was smiling with glee. Alex, the lady standing next to him, had a naughty glimmer in her face and bright eyes.

The whole world was skewed. A chilling sense of dread crept into Angela's bones. Carl was wearing a wedding band, right? Was this a photo from his previous union? Her head was overflowing with questions that seemed like they would overwhelm her.

She began to realize something bitter, and tears pricked her eyes. Carl had never given an explanation about the union. As a simple piece in his game, he had kept her in the dark.

Seeking clarification, Angela went down the stairs and made her way to Moana, the head maid who had worked for the Regaleon family for many years. Moana's beautiful smile and loving eyes brought a lot of warmth to the otherwise forbidding home.

"Moana," terrified, Angela said, "Can you tell me about this picture?" She extended her phone, showing the picture of Carl and his family.

Moana looked at the photo, a profound grief etched on her face. A lengthy pause that was full of unsaid secrets followed.

With a soft whisper, Moana eventually answered, "It's not my story to tell, Miss Angela. But I can tell you this, Mr. Carl has suffered a great deal."

Angela's heart burned for a guy she could not fully comprehend. His aloof demeanor and haughtiness seemed to be a front for a deeper suffering.

Angela's unresolved concerns caused her skin to itch nonstop for the next two weeks.