THE CEO'S BETRAYED AND ACCIDENTAL WIFE

Alice's POV

I didn't even look back at the car or at the man sitting inside. I just crossed the road quickly and kept walking. I didn't know where I was going. I only wanted to be far away from there.

I walked faster until I reached the next street, and then I stopped at a small corner, breathing hard.

My heart was still pounding. Who was that man? And why did he let me stay in his car for so long without saying anything?

I pulled out my phone and searched for the address of a real estate agent I knew. They had once helped my friend find a place when she moved out of town, and maybe they could help me, too.

I found their office not too far away, about a fifteen-minute walk, so I went there right away. The woman at the front desk smiled when I walked in.

"Good afternoon. How may I help you?"

I swallowed hard, trying to sound normal. "I need a new place. Somewhere quiet. In the UK, but not around here. I just… need to move fast."

She blinked at me. "Do you have a location in mind?"

"Anywhere far from the city," I said softly. "And I can pay in full."

That got her attention. She nodded and said she would send me a list of available homes by evening. I thanked her and left.

I took a cab to our house. It was part of what I had won in the case, and my husband would soon come for his stuff, but I really didn't want to be there when he did.

The moment I entered the house, I knew I couldn't stay there any longer. The walls felt heavy, and every corner reminded me of Daniel. The smell of his perfume was still there. The one that made me smile now made me sick.

I opened the closet and began folding my clothes, one after another. I just wanted to leave before I changed my mind.

But as I packed, my mind kept going back to work. To Sterling & Cross. To everything I had discovered.

I had been so stupid. I should have known something was wrong when they told me to drop my investigation. I should have known Daniel was involved when he started acting strange, coming home late, and being secretive with his phone.

And Clara. God, Clara had been in our house almost every day for the past year. She probably reported everything to them. Every conversation. Every suspicion I had.

I felt sick thinking about it.

I took my documents, some jewelry, and my laptop and zipped up the suitcase. But as I tried to close it, the zip caught my finger and tore the skin.

"Perfect," I muttered, looking at the small cut that was already bleeding. "Just what I needed."

I sucked in a shaky breath and grabbed a tissue, pressing it on my hand. Tears started to blur my eyes again, but I wiped them off quickly. I didn't want to cry anymore.

I had USB drives hidden in my laptop bag. Three years of evidence: emails, financial records, offshore account numbers, and shell company registrations.

Everything that proved Sterling & Cross was laundering money, and that proved Daniel and several other executives were involved.

I had kept it all before they fired me.

And now I realized why they had been so vicious in destroying my reputation, and that was because they were scared that I would expose them.

Maybe I should have sent everything to the authorities and gotten done with it, but I was scared, too, as these weren't just corrupt businessmen. Sterling & Cross worked with dangerous people and criminal organizations. People who wouldn't hesitate to make me disappear if they thought I was a threat.

I dragged the suitcase out and locked the door behind me. My heart felt heavy as I stood outside. I didn't know if I was sad, angry, or just tired, and maybe all of them.

I didn't want to go to a hotel yet. I didn't even have a home anymore, so I walked until my legs hurt. Then I saw a bar at the corner of the street. I decided to go and have a drink. Just one, maybe two. Just anything to make my mind quiet.

The bar was half full of people laughing and talking. I sat at the counter and asked the bartender for a glass of wine.

I drank the first one as soon as I got it. I asked for another, and then another.

After a while, I stopped counting. My head now felt light, and everything around me looked blurry. But for the first time in days, my chest didn't feel so heavy to think about what had been happening in the last few days.

I looked around and saw couples sitting close, whispering into each other's ears, while some were laughing, and some were kissing.

I looked away quickly. I didn't want to remember love; I didn't even know if I believed in it anymore.

I rested my head on the counter and closed my eyes for a few seconds. Then memories started to rush back. The ones of my father, always drunk and shouting when I was a child, throwing things at the wall, and beating up my mother. And my mother ran out one night and never came back. I was barely ten when she left.

After that, it was just him and me. His heavy drinking and his debts. I had to grow up fast. I started working at a small store at sixteen, saving every penny to survive. I thought when I married Daniel, life would finally feel safe, but I was wrong again.

A small laugh escaped me, and it really sounded dry and bitter.

"Life is funny," I whispered.

"You keep thinking it will get better, but it just finds another way to hurt you."

The bartender gave me a strange look, but I ignored him. I was too tired to explain anything.

After a few more drinks, I got up and staggered to my feet. My vision was spinning, and I just wanted to sleep somewhere and forget everything for a while.

I saw a sign that pointed to a "Club Lounge" in the same building. The music was louder there. I thought maybe I'd dance a little, laugh, or just lose myself for one night.

I walked in, trying not to stumble. The lights were colored and flashing. People were dancing, and the smell of alcohol filled the air. I found a small space at the back and started moving with the crowd. My body was swaying, and I just had to do all of this tonight.

At some point, I felt dizzy again, and I pushed through the crowd, looking for the restroom. But the hallway was dark, and all the doors looked the same. I opened one, thinking it was the ladies' room, but it wasn't.

It was a private lounge, and there were a few men inside, sitting around a low table with drinks. They all turned to look at me.

"Oh, sorry..." I started to say, but my words slurred.

One of them stood up and laughed.

"You lost, sweetheart?"

"Leave me alone," I said, trying to close the door, but he blocked it.

"She's drunk," another man said. "Just let her go."

But before anything could happen, someone at the corner spoke quietly. His voice was so deep that I could get lost in it. It also seemed pretty familiar, like I had heard it earlier.

"Out. Everyone. Leave the girl with me," he said.

The men exchanged looks and then walked out, leaving just the two of us in the room.

I blinked, trying to see clearly. He was sitting on a couch, wearing a dark suit. The lights behind him made it hard to see his face, but I could feel his eyes on me.

I took a step back, holding the door.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I thought this was the restroom."

He didn't say anything. He just stood up slowly and walked toward me, and my heartbeat picked up, but for some reason, I didn't move.

He stopped close, his height making me tilt my head up a little.

"So," he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper near my ear.

"This is what you want now?"

The question didn't make sense to me. My mind was too clouded.

"What are you saying?" I laughed weakly.

"I just came to drink, not to..."

He leaned closer that I could feel his breath on my skin.

"You don't even remember, do you?" he said.

I blinked, confused. "Remember what?" I asked, and he smirked.

"Nothing," he said softly.

"You'll find out soon enough."

I frowned, but before I could ask again, he stepped aside and opened the door for me.

"Go back to your room," he said calmly.

Without saying another word, I nodded slowly and walked out.

My steps were unsteady as I went down the hallway, and my head was spinning. I kept hearing his voice in my head.

I went straight to the hotel receptionist, asked for a room, and dragged myself upstairs.

I dropped my bag, lay on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. I noticed the room was luxurious, and I wondered if it was the same price I had paid, but who cared anyway?

After about a minute, I heard footsteps coming closer, and then the door creaked open.