The CEO's Accidental Wife

96

After clocking out and returning home, John sat down to dinner with the family, his phone buzzing with a w******p message from his assistant:

[Mr. Carter, Mrs. Carter’s background in school is nothing out of the ordinary. She had a very public relationship with Zack that was known to everyone on campus, and they were even voted number one in the university forum's 'Top Ten Campus-to-Altar Couples' poll. If Zack hadn't passed away, they probably would have gotten married. Additionally, when Hannah applied for jobs, she only submitted her resume to Carter International, which might have had something to do with Zack.]

John read through the message, dropped his phone onto the table, and remained completely silent throughout the entire meal.

Their very first night together had also been tied to Zack.

During dinner, Hannah was chatting animatedly with Grandpa about the stray animal rescue shelter, but John showed zero interest.

After a hot shower, Hannah stood in the bedroom, drying her hair with a towel while flipping through a book.

John watched her in cold silence. There was a quiet, effortless poise and intellectual elegance to her; when she read, she naturally radiated a subtle, bookish kind of s*x appeal. It had nothing to do with bare skin, yet it sent a slow, heavy current surging through his chest.

By the time Hannah’s hair was dry, she had finished a whole chapter.

"So freezing."

Hannah muttered with a shiver as she scrambled under the covers.

"Were you always this cold back in school?"

John asked smoothly from the other side of the bed, not looking up from his book.

"Hmm..." Hannah stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought. "How come I never felt cold back when I was in school?"

In those days, her head was entirely filled with thoughts of meeting Zack for their dates the next day before she drifted off to sleep with a sweet smile.

"What kept you from feeling cold?"

John pressed on.

Hannah thought about it. Obviously, she couldn't give the real answer, so she mumbled, "The dorm rooms were probably smaller, and there were a lot of people around. Staying up late chatting kept things warm."

"What did you do during the day?"

For some reason, John suddenly found himself deeply interested in the details of Hannah's college life.

"Just classes, going back and forth between the same three spots. It was pretty boring—you wouldn't be interested."

From start to finish, Hannah deliberately avoided uttering a single syllable of Zack's name.

Perhaps because the memory still hurt too much to touch, she chose to leave it completely unmentioned.

"Is that so? And what did you and Zack do together?"

John asked out of nowhere, his tone casual and breezy, as if he were just bringing it up in passing.

In truth, Zack was a ghost of the past, and John had zero desire to dredge him up. Yet, he brought him up anyway.

Hannah suddenly choked up, caught completely off guard. She couldn't fathom why he would suddenly bring up Zack out of nowhere—just hearing that name always dragged her back into a quiet ache.

She kept her lips pressed tightly shut, refusing to say a single word.

John glanced sideways at her, catching the way her gaze was fixed on the ceiling, trapped deep in a heavy, distant haze.

Had it ever been like this?

For a fraction of a second, Hannah's mind blurred. In the hazy twilight of her emotions, she couldn't tell whether the man before her was Zack or John.

Her arms instinctively looped around John's neck, her touch melting into a soft, liquid tenderness.

Normally, when they kissed, she was bright and eager; proactive, yes, but never with this kind of fragile, heartbroken tenderness.

Until John abruptly pulled back, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a sharp, ruthless intensity. "I am not him!"

A surge of sudden humiliation and grievance flared hot in Hannah's chest. Hot tears spilled over her lashes and soaked into the pillow. "Why do you keep bringing him up out of nowhere? When did I ever mistake you for him?"

As if losing all control, John pinned her beneath him, killed the bedside lamp, and claimed her over and over again with an unrelenting, exhausting hunger.

Hannah had no idea what kind of madness had possessed him tonight. Why on earth did he have to bring up Zack?

Just hearing his name had completely ruined her mood.

By the time it finally ended, it was already three in the morning. Hannah’s eyes were too heavy to keep open, and she drifted straight into an exhausted sleep.

John, however, couldn't sleep. He lit a cigarette, propped himself up against the headboard, and went back to reading.

Perhaps the bed was genuinely cold on her side; as Hannah slept, she instinctively curled up, wriggling closer and closer until she burrowed right under John's side of the duvet.

John’s body radiated a natural warmth. Hannah wrapped her arms around his waist, finally settling into a deep, peaceful sleep.

John lowered his book, looking down at the soft curve of her face beside him. Maybe because of the heat, her cheeks were flushed a soft, healthy pink.

She seemed to be muttering something under her breath, but the sound was too low and muffled for him to catch.

"What is it?"

He leaned down, pressing his ear closer to her lips.

"Daddy," Hannah mumbled softly in her sleep.

John let out a dry, incredulous huff of laughter. He never expected Hannah to have such a bizarre sense of humor in her sleep.

Fortunately, though, she hadn't called out for Zack!

John’s hand gently stroked her hair until her breathing evened out and she sank back into a quiet slumber.

When she woke up the next morning, the sky outside was heavy, overcast, and bruised with dark gray clouds—looking ready to unleash a freezing downpour that would officially usher in the dead of winter.

As Hannah sat up and began folding the blankets, she shot a few resentful glares at John, who was standing by the closet adjusting his bespoke suit with immaculate, sharp precision.

She muttered under her breath, "You absolute brute! I wasn't even thinking about him!"

As John walked past her, his fingers hooked under her chin, forcing her to look up into his eyes. "Then who were you thinking about?"

Hannah was struck speechless, unable to voice the chaotic thoughts swirling in her head.

Seeing the way her eyelids dropped defensively, John couldn't resist teasing her. "Thinking about your dad? I had no idea you had such bizarre fetishes!"

"How did you know?!"

Hannah gasped in absolute horror, grabbing his sleeve and staring at him wide-eyed.

"So you did mistake me for your dad?"

John let go of her chin and calmly reached for his watch. "Sorry, but I don't have a daughter your age."

With that, he turned and headed downstairs.

Hannah stood frozen upstairs for a long moment before finally following after him.