The CEO's Runaway Wife

They said men were easiest to sway in bed, and even more so right after sex. 

Scarlett Lewis lay limp across Daniel Wilson's chest, her breath still uneven. She lifted her gaze, eyes glazed from the haze between them, and held out her hand.

"My anniversary gift?"

Daniel looked untouched by the chaos between them. His shirt and trousers were pristine, his tie loosened just enough to reveal the cut of his throat. His face was all sharp planes and controlled edges, his eyes long and cool, the kind that made people keep their distance.

Yet this same man had refused to let her retreat moments ago, pulling her under until she drowned.

Scarlett's pulse was still racing, a quiet hope blooming in her chest.

Daniel's eyes narrowed. "Anniversary? What anniversary?"

The words hit like a slap. He'd been gone for over a month, and she had assumed he had come home today for her birthday and their wedding anniversary.

She'd even heard rumors—about the asteroid he'd bought the naming rights to overseas, about Blair Ember giving him the Wilson family's heirloom jade bracelet.

Either would have been enough to make her happy.

"You know exactly what I mean." Scarlett's voice softened as she curled her arms around his neck, leaning in to kiss him.

He turned away.

Her lips met nothing. Not even his skin.

Scarlett froze.

They had done everything else, but he had never kissed her. She thought tonight would be different. She'd been wrong.

She wanted more. A hurried, careless coupling wasn't enough.

Daniel caught her hand, pressed it to his belt buckle, his tone edged with mockery. "Not satisfied already? If you want a gift, earn it."

Scarlett swallowed down the sting, heat flooding her face. Two years of marriage and they'd barely touched. Shy, she pulled her hand back.

"You do it yourself." Yet she leaned in, slipped a condom into his palm.

He laughed, low and sharp.

His gaze dropped to the packet. His expression shifted—dark, dangerous. He gripped her chin hard. "Scarlett. Who taught you to pull stunts like this?"

The warmth in his face vanished, replaced by cold contempt. The heat between them evaporated.

Scarlett blinked, confused… until she saw the condom was torn. Her stomach dropped. He thought she'd sabotaged it—just like four years ago.

A chill swept through her. "It wasn't me."

She rushed to the drawer to prove it, but every condom inside had been opened.

Daniel was already on his feet, shirt buttoned, looking down at her from above. "If not you, then who else comes in here?"

He hated anyone entering the bedroom. She had always cleaned it herself. Now that fact was being twisted into evidence against her.

Her throat tightened. She remembered Blair visiting days ago—and stepping inside.

"It was Ms. Ember, she—"

"My mother? Do you think that's possible?" His voice was ice.

Blair wanted her barren. Wanted her gone.

Scarlett's lips parted, but no words came.

He didn't believe her. He never had. Hadn't she explained enough in the past?

"You never change."

Her silence was as good as confession. His eyes hardened. He turned to leave.

Scarlett's panic spiked. She grabbed his hand.

His phone rang. He shook her off, answered. After a few words, his voice softened. "Yes, I know it's today. I'll be there. Wait for me."

Scarlett caught the faint, sugary lilt of Alice Brown's voice. As Daniel opened the door, she threw on her robe and chased him.

Her robe snagged on a wineglass. It shattered, red wine bleeding across the floor.

She didn't stop. She blocked the doorway. "Who is she? Were you with her this whole time? Now you're leaving me to go to her? You promised me today!"

Daniel's eyes were cold, his tone like a blade. "Scarlett, after everything, do you think you have the right to demand anything from me?"

Her face burned. He tore her aside and walked out.

"If you go, we're done. Divorce!"

His stride didn't falter. He disappeared around the corner.

Scarlett sank to her knees.

She remembered being eight, half-dead, when Daniel had found her and brought her to the Wilson Mansion, calling her his sister.

He'd gone to her first parent-teacher meeting, taught her to ride a bike, braided her hair for the first time… even bought her sanitary pads and bras when she'd had her first period.

For ten years, he'd been brother, father, protector.

At eighteen, he would have risked his life for her.

At eighteen, she had crossed a line with him—seen by too many, sparking one of Shadow City's biggest scandals. Magnolia Belle had beaten him bloody, forcing him to marry her.

His girlfriend Alice had left the country in heartbreak.

He married Scarlett, but he never loved her. He avoided her touch.

A year ago, drunk, he had finally slept with her. He still felt nothing. He refused to let her conceive.

He hated her for ruining everything, stripping her of the title of his sister.

Scarlett loved him too much to let it show. She would never drug him.

Four years ago, she hadn't even known what was happening. Since then, people had mocked her for seducing Daniel. The Wilson family had never accepted her.

She had been gentle, cautious, obedient.

She thought Blair giving up the heirloom bracelet and Daniel spending the anniversary with her meant she had finally won his heart.

It had all been a lie.

Hope and despair were separated by the thinnest line.

Tonight had shattered her illusions.

She would divorce him—free him, and herself.

"Mrs. Wilson, why are you on the floor?" Jane's voice broke through.

Scarlett turned away, blinking fast before she rose. "What is it?"

"Mr. Wilson told me to bring you medicine before he left."

Jane held out water and a pill. Scarlett knew it was birth control.

She took it and swallowed it in front of Jane.

When Jane left, Scarlett closed the door and numbly began cleaning the mess.

She only noticed the blood when she saw the shard of glass in her foot. Blood smeared her skin.

She laughed, cleaned the floor, and treated the wound.

Downstairs, the candlelit dinner and cake she had prepared sat untouched.

Scarlett sat alone, eating slowly, as if mourning the death of her marriage.

From the living room, Jane's voice rang out. "Mr. Elliot Wilson has a high fever!"

Yesterday, eight-year-old Elliot Wilson had been sick and insisted on seeing her. Blair had brought him over. The bracelet's story had come from Elliot.

Scarlett's face changed. "Get the car. I'll take Elliot to the hospital."

"Scarlett, I don't feel good…" Elliot's voice trembled.

Scarlett rushed in. His forehead was burning, his body pressing weakly into her palm. "I'm here, Elliot. Don't be afraid. We're going right now."

By the time they arrived, it was close to dawn. After tests, Elliot was admitted.

Blair and Orla arrived to keep watch. Scarlett went to collect the results.

Thinking Elliot might wake and fuss, she decided to return to the ward for her bag and buy him snacks.

The door was ajar. Voices and muffled sobs drifted out.

"Mrs. Blair Wilson, don't worry too much. The doctor says Mr. Elliot Wilson's leukemia isn't high-risk. He may not need a bone marrow transplant."

"I know, but Elliot's blood type is rare. He'll need transfusions. If Scarlett could have a matching child, at least she'd be of some use. The Wilson family wouldn't have raised her for nothing."

Scarlett felt as if lightning had struck her.

She understood now. Elliot was Blair's late-life child.

Blair didn't want her pregnant for love—she wanted her to bear a child who could save Elliot.

Scarlett's chest ached. She turned and walked toward the clinic lobby in a daze.

She thought the night couldn't get worse—until she saw Daniel.

A woman stood beside Daniel, both of them wearing glowing headbands like young lovers.

Daniel was absorbed in his phone when she rose on tiptoe, teasing the wolf ears perched on his head. Light danced over the curve of the jade bracelet on her wrist — the Wilson family's heirloom.

The world tilted. Her stomach churned. She turned away, gagging.

Daniel looked up. His eyes met hers.

Scarlett froze.

Daniel's expression didn't change. He said something to Alice, who turned to look.

Scarlett saw her face clearly—soft, pure.

Alice was back.