I Cursed My Wife After She Let My Father Die

Alex’s POV

If Denise had agreed to the divorce, maybe the curse wouldn’t have hit her.

Three days later, she finally let me out.

I hadn’t had a drop of water the whole time. My throat felt like sandpaper, and I barely lifted my head when she walked in.

She didn’t say a word and just stepped in and slammed her foot into my gut like she’d been dying to do it.

“Alex, I never thought you could be this cruel. What the hell did I even do?”

I didn’t answer, not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t have the strength.

Two of her men came in, grabbed me by the arms, and dragged me out to the garden. My knees tore across the cobblestones the whole way. They were in agony, and I could do nothing to staunch the flow of blood or the spreading of the bruises.

Denise looked down at me like I was something she’d scraped off her shoe.

“You knew Sean’s allergic to roses, and you still planted this whole damn garden? Were you trying to kill him?”

I tried to speak. Nothing came out.

She didn’t remember.

She was the one who loved roses.

I built this place 540 days ago. Every thorn and every root was dug out with my own hands. Thought it’d mean something.

I gave a dry, humorless laugh. “Sure. I’ll rip them out.”

I pushed myself off the ground, legs trembling, and pulled up the roses individually. No gloves. Just my bare hands. The thorns cut deep, shredding my palms until they were raw and slick with blood.

Crimson ran down my wrists, soaked into the dirt.

I saw her flinch, just for a second. Her eyelids twitched.

But she didn’t say a word.

“Don’t think playing the victim will make me go soft,” Denise said, cold as ice. “It only makes me hate you more.”

She clenched her fists and turned away.

I didn’t stop until the last rose was gone. By then, I dropped right where I stood, and my body gave out.

...

The next morning, I woke up in bed.

Someone had cleaned me up. My hands and face were bandaged. Guess they didn’t want me bleeding out just yet.

I got up. Stiff all over, but I managed to stand.

I went looking for Denise.

Just as I reached the study, I heard her inside. Her voice was sharp and frantic, like a fire had started, and she was trying to stomp it out with her bare feet.

"How can they simply cancel contracts we’ve already signed? Don’t they realize I invested every last cent of my liquid funds into these deals?”

Denise’s voice cracked. “Why is everything going to hell at once?”

Then a pause.

“Start with the terminated projects. I’ll take care of the rest.”

The curse was already working.

I stepped in through the door. She looked up like I was a ghost.

“Alex, what are you doing out of bed? If you’re up, go make some soup.”

Then, like it was an afterthought, “Add more salt. Sean wants some. He likes it heavy. Go do it now!”

I was born into money. Staff, chefs, housekeepers—I never had to do a damn thing for myself. But once said she wanted something simple—a place that smelled like soup, not ink and cologne.

So I learned. Took off the suit. Burned my hands. Figured it out for her.

Now? My hands were wrapped up like a damn mummy. Couldn’t even touch water without splitting the skin open again.

I gave a dry laugh. “Sure. Just don’t flinch if I poison it.”

Her eyes narrowed, and her voice went cold. “Looks like three days in a cell wasn’t enough. Want another round?”

I didn’t blink. I just walked over and sat across from her, legs crossed, calm as ever.

“Denise, sign the divorce papers before the situation gets ugly. You’re pregnant with another man’s kid. Let’s end this clean.”

She stared like I’d spit in her face.

“You sabotaged my projects, didn’t you? Thought you’d get back at me that way?”

I laughed for real that time. “My dear wife, you threw me in a concrete box for three days. No water. No contact. You think I have the guts to pull off something like that from inside a damn cell?”

She scoffed coldly. “You better not have!”

Then Denise continued, “Forget the divorce. There’s no way you’re walking away now. If you hadn’t lied and tricked me back then, how could I have mistaken you for Sean? Because of that, I missed five years with him and brought him so much pain.”

I frowned. “What the hell did I lie about?”

She let out a scoff.