Goodbye, My Dearest Enemy

Dorothy’s face flashed with embarrassment before smoothing back into its usual haughty mask.

“You did sacrifice a lot for this family back then. But let’s not forget—you’ve also enjoyed years as a wealthy wife. And all this time, you still haven’t given the family a son.”

She leaned forward. “And that terminally ill mother of yours—where would she be now without Carl?”

Carolyn said nothing. The house was so vast and quiet she could hear the clock ticking.

“No man can stand having pictures like that of his wife floating around. Your worlds are completely different now. You can’t help him anymore. Carl’s a CEO. His ties to the Dylan Group heiress grow stronger every day. Do you really want to drag him down?”

Carolyn’s hands clenched.

The chasm between her and Carl was already too wide to cross.

Her very existence was probably just a stain on his polished résumé.

Silence stretched. She didn’t even notice when Dorothy left.

Opening the bedside drawer, she took out the small-carat diamond ring.

Carl hadn’t worn it once since their wedding. She’d asked him about it, in the beginning.

He’d said it wasn’t appropriate for client meetings—such a modest ring might raise doubts about the company’s stability.

He’d already had someone else back then.

The lock turned.

Carl came home looking tired. His eyes immediately found the angry red mark on her cheek. His handsome brow furrowed, and his thumb brushed gently over the bruise.

His jaw tightened. Without a word, he turned to fetch an ice pack, wrapped it carefully, and pressed it to her face.

“There now, don’t be angry, all right? She’s the daughter of a major client’s CEO. This project is vital for me. You’re making things difficult. I was just humoring her.”

He held her close, apologizing softly.

She closed her eyes in his embrace, breathing in the unfamiliar perfume on his clothes. The truth couldn’t have been clearer.

“Fine,” Carolyn sighed. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

She seemed to forgive him.

For the next few days, he canceled every social engagement.

He moved around the kitchen in an apron that never quite fit, though his cooking swung from too salty to too bland.

The house no longer felt cold and empty. The kitchen smelled of life; the bed held another’s warmth. He stayed by her side almost constantly—a silent form of compensation.

Late in their bedroom, the air grew thick with careful heat. They held each other close, their kisses soft and slow.

“Carolyn,” Carl murmured, his hands tracing the curves of her body. “Let’s have a baby.”

“How?”

She frowned slightly.

In the next moment, his large warm hands gripped her waist, turning her onto the sofa. Their clothes seemed to vanish. His hot breath brushed her neck, sending a shiver through her.

Then Carl’s phone rang.

Karen’s tearful voice came through the speaker. “Carl, it’s my fault. I won’t see my ex again. I didn’t know he still had feelings for me. Please don’t be mad. Don’t punish me by having a baby with Carolyn—it would break my heart.”

Carolyn’s breath froze. Each word was like a red-hot needle, driving straight into her chest.

She was forced awake.

All the tenderness, the companionship, the afterglow—it was all a performance. Carefully staged by Carl. Meant only to provoke another woman he loved.

Carl stood up with practiced ease. “My assistant. Must be urgent. I need to head to the office.”

The door closed with a heavy thud. The room fell into dead silence, broken only by the roar of a sports car starting outside.

Her own phone rang urgently. Carolyn hesitated, then answered.

“I saw what happened online. Carl doesn’t deserve your kindness. You shouldn’t let your talent rot in a gilded cage. Still not ready to come with me?”

“I’m coming. Just give me a little time. There are still a few things I need to wrap up.”

“Good. I’ll arrange a top agent and a writing residency for you in Paris.”