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Husband, Why Did You Send Me to Prison for Her? Novel Cover

Husband, Why Did You Send Me to Prison for Her?

When Margaret Cowell tried to kill Olivia, the bullets took her brother’s life instead. Olivia expected protection from her husband, Alaric Hamilton—the ruthless Mafia Don of Hexagon Prime and billionaire president. Instead, to shield Margaret, Alaric falsely accused Olivia of the murder, sentencing her to eight years in prison. Now finally free, Olivia faces a regretful Alaric who begs for her return, swearing she is his only wife. But after his ultimate betrayal, his words mean nothing to her.
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Chapter 9

Alaric rubbed his temples before continuing, "This is Marga's fifth wish and the sixth is to be her husand for a month. Once I complete it, everything will finally be over and we can move on."

My fingers paused slightly.

"Marga wants a wedding," he said calmly. "A real ceremony, at least in appearance. That's the fifth thing she asked for."

I remained silent.

"We'll get divorced first," Alaric explained. "It's only paperwork. There'll be a cooling-off period, then we'll hold the ceremony."

He leaned forward slightly.

"But we won't register the marriage. It won't be legal, it's only for her wish. Once it's done, everything will return to normal."

Normal.

I almost laughed.

My brother was gone.

My grandfather was gone.

My marriage was gone.

My life was gone. What exactly was left to return to?

Without saying a word, I picked up the pen and signed my name.

Olivia Muffin.

The signature was neat and steady, as if it belonged to someone else.

Alaric stared at it for several seconds before releasing a long breath. The relief on his face was impossible to miss.

"Honey, it's finally over," Alaric said, his voice lighter than it had been in years. "After this, we can leave everything behind and start over." He leaned back against the sofa. "You always wanted to travel. We'll leave New York and go wherever you want. We'll bring Grandpa with us and spend time together."

My heart stopped.

I stared at him. Did he forget? Or had he never cared enough to remember?

Grandpa was dead.

Before I could speak, his phone rang.

Immediately, everything about him changed.

The tension left his shoulders. The exhaustion disappeared. And his eyes softened the moment he saw the caller ID.

Margaret.

Always Margaret.

"Marga," Alaric answered immediately. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Margaret's cheerful voice came through the phone. "We agreed we'd try wedding dresses today. Don't tell me you've forgotten already because I've been waiting forever."

Alaric checked the time and cursed under his breath.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I lost track of time. I'm leaving now and I'll be there soon."

Margaret laughed softly. "You always say that. If you don't get here quickly, I'm picking the ugliest dress I can find."

A smile appeared on his face.

"Be good and wait for me," Alaric replied gently. "Don't run around by yourself. I'll be there before you know it."

The call ended.

He grabbed his coat and headed toward the door.

Halfway there, he suddenly stopped.

Something made him look back.

I was still sitting on the sofa, watching him.

For some reason, he frowned.

As if something felt wrong.

As if he'd forgotten something important.

The feeling lasted only a second.

"Wait for me," Alaric said with a smile. "We'll talk tonight. There's still a lot we need to discuss."

Then he left.

The front door closed behind him and the house fell silent.

I sat there for a long time, listening to the emptiness around me.

Eventually, I walked to the storage cabinet and pulled out our wedding album from where it had been hidden behind old boxes. Dust coated the cover. My fingers brushed across it lightly.

Back then, I'd believed that wedding was the beginning of my happiness.

What a stupid dream!

I opened the album.

Photograph after photograph filled the pages. Smiling faces. Happy memories. Promises that had sounded eternal at the time.

Lies.

I stared at the first picture for a long moment before tearing it in half.

The ripping sound echoed through the silent house.

Then I tore another, and another.

Page after page, photograph after photograph, until shredded pieces covered the floor around my feet. Our wedding day. Our honeymoon. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Every memory that had once seemed precious became nothing more than scraps of paper.

I looked down at the mess and surprisingly, I felt nothing.

The woman who would've cried while destroying those photographs had disappeared a long time ago.

After a while, I closed the album and set it aside. Then I picked up my suitcase and walked toward the front door.

This time, I didn't look back.

Because the moment I signed those divorce papers, Alaric became someone else's problem.

As for the wedding gift I had prepared for the happy couple...

I smiled faintly.

They would receive it soon enough.

And when they did, neither of them would ever forget it.

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