His Unloved Wife

CHAPTER 9

She couldn't shake the image of Carl, Alex, and the infant; it gave rise to a persistent fear that the contract was really a front for something more sinister. The only things that broke the tense atmosphere in the home were quick looks and terse conversations. When Angela could take the stillness no longer, she made the decision to speak with him.

After a particularly quiet supper one evening, Carl withdrew to his study, a haven he had visited more and more these days. Angela stood in the living room for a while, her heart thumping her ribs in a panic. She inhaled deeply and followed him.

With a frown on his face, he worked on his laptop while seated behind his desk. The sound of the keyboard clicking filled the space, a sharp contrast to Angela's inward anguish.

"Carl," she said in a scarcely audible whisper.

With a brief moment of astonishment flashing over his face, he glanced up and his expression hardened. His tone was cold as he questioned, "What is it, Angela?"

"It's about the picture," she said, her tone hardening. "The one in your study, with you, Alex, and the baby."

Carl's eyes darkened and his jaw tightened. He said, "I thought that was a private space," and gave Angela a start as he forcefully closed his laptop.

"Why don't you want to talk about it?" Encouraged by a sudden wave of defiance, she persisted.

He got to his feet, his massive form looming over her in a menacing way. His rage was evident as he muttered, "It's none of your concern. The only concern you need to have is fulfilling your end of the bargain."

His remarks sliced like a dagger into her. The genuine vulnerability she'd seen in him just now was gone, replaced with a distant, icy rage. Her eyesight blurred as tears filled her eyes.

"So, that's all this is?" Her voice was heavy with passion as she coughed out. "A bargain?"

Carl paused, his eyes darting away for an instant. His fury appeared to harden at that point.

"Yes," he spat, hatred in his voice. "That's exactly what it is."

He strode by her, leaving a trail of whirling emotions and the smell of his perfume behind him. With a loud boom, he shut the front door, leaving Angela alone in the reverberating quiet study room.

She slumped on the luxurious couch, shaking with a combination of pain and rage. Her face was wet with tears, distorting the lavish surroundings that seemed oppressive all of a sudden. She didn't realize how bad the reality was. Not only was the photo evidence of a previous connection, but it also served as a sharp reminder of how transactional their arrangement had been.

As the evening wore on, Angela came to a terrifying realization. Carl was hiding a deeper anguish behind his angry outburst, which was intended for her inquiry as well. Still, it was unclear what secret he was protecting with such vigor. And would she ever have the chance to get to know the guy she was so clearly attracted to?

Feeling totally spent, Angela withdrew to her room. She was unable to sleep because of the unsolved questions that kept her up at night. She felt a new resolution settle in her as the sunrise turned the sky a faint orange. Carl's outrage wouldn't stop her.

One evening, he arrived home late, carrying a heavy burden from the unfulfilled business transaction. He felt a twinge of uneasiness when he saw the untouched dinner plate in the now-chilly dining room. Where had Angela disappeared?

His anger erupted as he growled at the head maid. Moana emerged, concern etched on her weathered face.

"Where is Mrs. Angela?" Carl demanded, an almost uncontrollably angry tone in his voice.

Moana paused, her eyes flitting to the ground. She stumbled, "I... I don't know, Mr. Carl."

Carl became enraged. "You don't know?" he yelled, filling the whole hall with his loud voice. “Doesn't she reside here? You have a duty to be aware."

Under his ferocious look, the other maids recoiled, but Moana held her position and spoke without faltering. "I haven't seen her since the day Mr. Carl stormed out."

Carl felt a chilly fear take hold of him. With a feeling of impending dread gnawing at him, he hurried to his study. His fingers shaking, he tore open his laptop and saw the CCTV video of the residence.

He viewed the tapes and felt his blood chill. Angela emerges from the home, appearing afraid yet determined. Moments later, an unmarked vehicle pulls up, and then nothing. The video suddenly ended.

His lips trailed off into a furious yell as he smashed his fist on the desk. He dialed Angela's phone furiously, not paying attention to the voicemail that was playing for the millionth time. Every ignored text and every missed call felt like a kick to the stomach.

His eyes blazed as he whirled around. His voice boomed through the house, "Who did this?" The maids gathered close to one another, paralyzed by terror.

Moana took a step forward, her eyes unwavering. "Mr. Carl, there was a gang of males. They deliberately came looking for Mrs. Angela."

Carl's thoughts were racing. Who would have thought of stealing her? What was it they desired? A flood of shame swept over him. He had been too preoccupied with defending his secrets and feeling angry to see the vulnerability in Angela's eyes. He was the reason she was gone now.

Moana let go of a single tear. "Mr. Carl, you kept getting calls from Mrs. Angela. However, you didn't answer."

Carl felt his heart pounding in his chest. The weight of his conceit crushed him as he fell back into his chair. How could he have had such poor vision? It was all his fault because he'd been pushing away the lady who could be in danger.

Shame gave way to a strong resolve. He refused to let Angela suffer for his pride.