My Deceased Wife Wants a Divorce (Hannah) novel Chapter 161

"So, you really think I was raped by those kidnappers?" she asked, her tone flat.

Lionel stared at her, finding himself at a loss for words.

Could it be that it wasn’t true?

Hannah let out a derisive snort, her eyes filled with contempt. "You've never had a single thought of your own when it comes to me. You believe whatever people say, whatever they post."

"Especially when someone accuses me of doing something wrong. You never bother to verify it; you just jump straight to blaming me. You automatically assume it's true, and yet here you are, playing the part of a devoted lover, talking about sticking by me no matter what."

She stepped forward, poking a finger into his chest. "The truth is," she said, enunciating each word, "you're disgusted to your core, aren't you?"

With a sharp shove to his shoulder, Hannah turned and walked downstairs, completely ignoring the look on his face.

He immediately chased after her, calling out to her retreating figure. "I never thought that!"

Hannah stopped and turned back. "The moment Yves and Quennel saw the video, they called me. They said they'd help investigate and bury the story, that it was obviously a fake."

"My colleagues were just as certain it couldn't possibly be me, saying that with AI deepfake technology being what it is, anyone could have fabricated it. They even asked their own friends to help look into it."

"You were the only one," she said, her voice trembling with restrained fury, "the only one who decided it had to be me. That I would do something like that with those men. That I would enjoy it!"

She let out a long sigh, her gaze dropping to the floor. "Honestly, I don't even care what you think. I really don't."

But she did care. She had waited all day for his call, and it never came.

When Cora and Lily had gone to his mother's and told their stories, he had called to yell at her without even checking the security footage. When something minor happened with Sandra, he called immediately to blame her.

But when it was her own crisis, her own reputation on the line? A full day of silence.

Later that evening, she went into the master bedroom and locked the door from the inside.

Lionel stared at the closed door for a moment before heading downstairs to grab the spare key. He let himself in.

"Hannah, we need to—"

He was cut off by the shrill, custom ringtone that shattered the silence in the room. The sound, so uniquely tied to one person, made the air go still.

The phone kept ringing, its incessant noise making it impossible for Hannah to concentrate on her work.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Hannah asked, looking up from her screen. "What if it's an emergency?"

He picked up the phone. Staring at the name on the screen, his thumb moved slowly toward the answer button.