Chapter Eight: A Lie For The World
Chapter Eight: A Lie For The World
ABEL DONOVAN
The silence of my home office was suffocating, yet it was the only place I could still breathe. Every phone call, every headline, every whisper beyond these glass walls carried the same phrase: The unknown wife of Abel Donovan.
They didn’t know who she was, but I did. Annabelle. My Annabelle.
No. Not mine. Not anymore.
She had walked into our house, no, my house, two days ago, her face cold, her voice stripped of warmth, and signed the divorce papers without hesitation. Then, she vanished, no forwarding address, no trace.
Now they were telling me to take Flora as my wife. To stand beside her publicly. To use her as a shield to clear the mess.
Flora.
I disliked her, too jumpy, too loud, too outrageous but I owed her more than I cared to admit. She had been the one whispering truths in my ear when lies clouded my vision. She had stayed when others turned their backs. She had stood beside me when my beloved betrayed me.
But her quick consent to this arrangement unsettled me. She hadn’t hesitated for a moment, hadn’t even blinked before agreeing to whatever scheme the Donovans and Whitmores were spinning. That alone should have warned me.
And Annabelle? She was gone.
I had searched quietly, discreetly for the past two days, reaching out through channels that shouldn’t fail me. Yet no one knew where she had gone. No one had seen her.
I told myself she was bluffing. That she would return. She had to.
She couldn’t survive without me.
Annabelle had no job, no degree. She had given up her degree for me, her studies for me. She had given up everything for me, her future, her ambitions, her life. What could she possibly do now? Where could she possibly stay?
With him? With the man she cheated on me with?
The thought set my blood ablaze. Rage, bitter and sharp, cut through me. Jealousy followed close behind.
“Was I not enough?”
The words slipped past my lips before I could stop them. If I was failing her, she could have told me. I would have adjusted. I would have… tried. But instead, she…
I remembered her tears. Her pleading. Her desperate words echoing that night. Guilt gnawed at me, sharp and unrelenting. I shoved it down, covering it with anger, the only emotion I knew how to cling to.
But then the doubt crept in.
What if she was telling the truth?
I shook the thought away. No. The pictures were undeniable. Clear. Unforgiving. And Flora had no reason to lie.
Or did she?
A muscle ticked in my jaw as I leaned back, exhaling slowly. I resented Flora for pushing herself into my life, for wearing the mask of loyalty so convincingly. And yet, I couldn’t ignore the truth, I owed her.
Still, the thought of Annabelle lingered, haunting me.
“She thinks I’ll chase after her?” I clenched my jaw, my voice low and bitter. “No. She’ll return when she realizes the world is colder without me.”
My phone rang, slicing through the silence. I snatched it up immediately.
“Sir, the photos have been taken down from all sites.”
I exhaled, relief loosening the knot in my chest.
“Good,” I replied curtly.
“But the board is still demanding explanations. The questions from the media won’t stop. I advise you hold a live conference. Give them something to chew on so this dies down completely.”
I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. Frustration clawed at me. All of this, every last bit of it was Anna’s fault.
Five years down the drain, and now she wanted to drag me down with her?
“Fine. I’ll do it,” I muttered before disconnecting and tossing the phone onto the desk.
“Abel!”
The door banged open, and my mother stormed in like she owned the place.
“Mom!” I snapped. “Knock, for God’s sake.”
She ignored me, as always. “Why are you stalling? Are you still thinking about that woman? That deceptive, devilish woman?”
“Mom, don’t call her that. She is my wife.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them. I cursed under my breath, dragging a hand through my hair in frustration. It was reflex, defending Anna had been second nature for so long. My mom had always disliked her. For years I had stood between her and my mother’s scorn. Even now, the old habit resurfaced without warning.
“Your wife?” My mother’s eyes flashed. “You must be joking. She signed the divorce papers and vanished. She’s gone, Abel. She’s no longer your wife. You will take Flora. End of discussion.”
“Mom…”
“You need to clear the family name. The Whitmores have given us their daughter as compensation for the humiliation Anna caused. For the mess she created. Flora will step in. She will be your wife.”
“I don’t want Flora,” I ground out.
But my mother bulldozed over my protest.
“Flora is good for you, Abel. Compassionate. Refined. High class. Everything Anna never was. Why do you fight me? You’ve never made good choices on your own. Anna was proof of that.”
She sighed, then turned toward the hall. “The Whitmores are waiting in the living room. Come.”
I followed reluctantly.
They were all there, Flora and her parents, seated smugly. My father was absent, sitting alone in the dining room. He had cared for Anna in his own quiet way, and her fall, her scandal had struck him hard. Since then, he’d withdrawn, hiding in silence and receiving secret phone calls he didn’t share with anyone.
“Abel,” Flora’s father began smoothly, “Flora is the wife you should have had from the beginning. The rightful choice. She will restore stability to your life and your name.”
“Yes,” Selena added sharply, her lips curling. “I don’t know how that sly girl ever wormed her way into your family. But now, with her gone, Flora can take her rightful place. It’s the best outcome for everyone.”
“Son, You need stability.” My mother said firmly, her gaze pinned on me. “The Donovans cannot afford this scandal. The Whitmores have offered their daughter, Flora. It is a chance to protect everything your father built. Your father's legacy can not weather this storm. Flora is the answer.”
I looked at Flora,.her painted smile, her glittering eyes that betrayed ambition more than affection. She wasn’t Anna. She would never be Anna.
But I had no choice.
The media wanted an answer. The board demanded stability. This… this was the only way to silence them.
But she would be nothing more than that. A mask. A shield. A placeholder. Nothing more than reviving my image.
When I stepped onto the podium, flashes of light exploded in my face. Voices rose, questions hurled, chaos buzzing like a swarm. I raised a hand, silencing them with a practiced authority.
“I am not married,” I said firmly. “The pictures circulating are fabrications meant to destroy me, to put me down. I have no wife. There is no scandal.”
A lie, cold and deliberate.
I hated the word as it left my mouth: “Flora Whitmore is my fiancée.” A lie, wrapped in truth, meant to silence investors and vultures. It wasn’t marriage. Not yet. And never from my heart.
Flora stepped forward, sliding beside me with a smile so wide it hurt to look at. She clutched my arm like she had earned it, her eyes gleaming in triumph, with excitement.
“Please,” I added, “desist from spreading rumors. Flora is the only woman in my life.”
The room buzzed, cameras flashing. Investors would calm. The board would be quiet. My mother would smile. The Whitmores would gloat.
But deep down, as the lie echoed in my own ears, doubt flickered. I told myself Anna would come crawling back, begging. I told myself Flora was only temporary, nothing more.
But what if I was wrong?
What if Anna truly walked away… and never returned? What then?