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.

Alex’s POV

“You’re still pretending?” Denise hissed. “I already knew the truth ten years ago. You were the one who pushed me off that cliff…”

Before she could finish spinning whatever fantasy she’d built in her head, Sean barged through the door like the clown he was.

“Denise, it’s time for your prenatal checkup. The car’s already waiting outside.”

I stood up, jaw tight, ready to ask her what the hell she meant, but she didn’t even glance my way.

Denise shoved past me and walked straight into his arms like she couldn’t get away fast enough.

I stood there frozen. Not shocked, but just empty.

After a few seconds, I drove to the hospital to visit my father.

...

My father’s room was silent. The machines continued to do all the breathing for him. I sat beside him, took his cold and motionless hand, and held it like he could still feel it.

“Dad, you once told me that Mom died in a car accident while on vacation with her lover because she betrayed you, and that you developed a severe psychological disorder because of it.”

A cold scoff escaped my lips.

“You told me betrayal sticks and it haunts a man for the rest of his life. That’s why you never wanted me to get married. Never wanted me to believe in loyalty or forever.”

I swallowed hard. My throat still burned from those three days in confinement.

“I get it now. I was stupid for thinking I could break the pattern. Be better. But I’m done punishing myself for someone else’s choices. I’ll wait. However long it takes, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The nurse came in right after visiting hours ended, polite but firm.

I nodded and left quietly.

While walking in the hall, I didn’t expect to bump into her in the damn lobby.

Denise spotted me before I could slip past. Her eyes narrowed like I was something rotting in the corner of her house.

“What are you doing here? Following me?”

I didn’t answer and just turned to leave.

But of course, she couldn’t just let it go.

She stormed up and grabbed my arm. “Alex, I’m talking to you. Are you deaf or something?”

I yanked my arm back, jaw tight. “If you’re sick, get checked. Don’t go around biting people like some damn stray.”

Then I added, sharper, “Why the hell would I follow you? Did you forget my father’s in this hospital too? I’ve been here every damn day.”

First time I’d ever raised my voice at her.

Denise froze. Blinked like she didn’t recognize me. For a split second, I saw fear. Just a flash, but it was there.

“Why are you yelling at me like this…?”

Before I could answer, Sean appeared out of nowhere, grinning like he was about to hand out party favors. He shoved some ultrasound report between us like it meant anything.

“Denise, the doctor says our baby’s healthy. Look! Eyes, mouth… our baby looks just like you. So beautiful.”

And just like that, she lit up. All wide eyes and wonder like nothing else in the world mattered.

“Of course, our baby’s beautiful.”

Sean beamed. Smoothed her hair like he thought he was in some picture-perfect ad.

Then he looked at me and smirked.

“How about this? Let Alex name the baby. Make him feel part of the family.”

A year ago, I’d have broken his jaw without blinking.

Now? I didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

I just turned and walked away. Cold. Silent. Done.

“Alex!” Sean called after me, smug as hell. “Tomorrow’s our wedding. Why don’t you be the emcee?”

I paused mid-step, turned back, and stared at Denise with a mocking smile.

“You and your pretty boy are throwing a wedding? And you want me, your husband, to officiate? You two sure know how to throw a circus.”

Her face twisted, trying to hold on to whatever pride she had left.

“Alex, do you have to be so cruel?”

Denise's face darkened, but a flicker of guilt flashed in her eyes.

“You already had me. I’m just giving Sean the wedding I once promised him. Why are you being so petty?”

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back, but she got there first.

“You’re coming to the wedding tomorrow. Don’t forget that your father still needs the imported medication that my family provides.”

My fists clenched on instinct. I felt blood soak through the bandages on my palms again.

She knew exactly where to hit.

...

The next day, the wedding was a damn circus. Bigger, flashier, louder than the one Denise and I had five years ago. Fake smiles, fake blessings, enough champagne to sink a battleship.

I walked in, and the whole room went still. Like I’d walked into the wrong movie.

Eyes followed. Whispers trailed.

“So it’s true that Alexander Blackwell showed up to his wife’s wedding.”

“Must be nice being the live-in loser. Guess he really can’t get it up.”

“That Blackwell curse? Please. Just some scare tactic to keep women in line.”

I heard every word. I didn't flinch or say a thing.

I simply grabbed a glass of wine and savored the first sip.

Let them run their mouths. They had no idea what was coming.

Alex’s POV

I loved the wrong woman. And I paid for it.

I swallowed my pride and moved into the Weston estate because Denise couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her family. Let the whispers spread. Let the world think I was some trophy son-in-law with no backbone.

And because of one offhand comment she made about staying child-free, I went through with a vasectomy.

Yeah. I actually did that.

Whether the curse is real or just a damn coincidence, we’ll find out in three days.

At the wedding, the ballroom applauded as Denise stepped onto the crystal staircase, arm locked with Sean’s like they were the second coming of royalty.

The music swelled. Lights glittered off chandeliers. Cameras flashed. And step by step, they started their little descent into hell.

Then it happened.

Her smile twisted, and her body buckled. Her legs gave out, and she tumbled.

Denise didn’t just trip. She collapsed like someone yanked the strings clean out of her.

She slammed into the floor at the bottom, hard, screaming in pain, both hands clutched around her stomach.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. “Did she lose the baby?!”

Someone rushed over, lifted the hem of her dress, then staggered back like they’d seen a ghost.

“Blood… there’s so much blood!”

Panic hit like a bomb. People screaming, shoving. The wedding unraveled in seconds. Denise got rushed to the hospital, and the whole thing ended in chaos.

But the Blackwell curse?

That was just getting started.

I looked up at Sean, still frozen at the top of the stairs.

He had a chance to catch her. I saw it—hell, everyone saw it.

But when she reached for him, his instincts kicked in. And he let go. Worse, he shoved her off to save his skin.

Then I heard his voice behind me, all bark and panic.

“Alex, was this your doing?!”

I didn’t even turn and just kept walking. Let him scream.

...

Later, once Denise woke up, she sent someone to drag me into her hospital room.

She didn’t waste time.

“Alex,” she snapped, “you think making me lose my baby will convince me your family curse is real? That I’ll suddenly believe you?”

I stared at her, voice flat. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Sean stood beside her, face burning red, fists clenched like he was holding back from punching a wall.

“Don’t play dumb,” he snapped. “I had someone look into it. One of the guests saw you! You drugged her water. That’s why she couldn’t feel her legs. You planned it so she’d fall and lose the baby. She almost died!”

He shook, his voice cracked, and his eyes were rimmed red as if he hadn’t slept in days.

“It’s my fault, too. I froze. I didn’t catch her…”

Then he turned to Denise, his voice dropping like a kicked dog. “Denise, I’m sorry. I let you down.”

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, soft like he was a kid who scraped his knee.

“Sean, I don’t blame you. It happened too fast.”

Then her eyes cut to me, and every ounce of warmth she had for him vanished.

“Alex,” she said cold as ice, “you killed my child. Life for a life. That’s how it should be. But don’t worry, I won’t kill you. I’m cutting off the meds your father depends on. Let’s see if watching him rot teaches you a lesson.”

My chest locked up. Breath caught somewhere between a shout and a choke.

“No! Denise, don’t. If you’re pissed, come at me. Not him. He’s in that coma because he threw himself in front of you. You do this, and he might never wake up.”

She stared at me coldly.

“Don’t try to guilt-trip me, Alex. You ruined my wedding and killed my baby.”

I pulled a folder from my bag. Inside were freshly printed divorce papers. I unfolded them and laid them out on the bedside table.

“It’s the curse. I’ve told you—if you divorce me, this ends.”

Denise let out a sharp, bitter laugh. Then she ripped the papers to shreds, eyes locked on mine.

“Alex, do you think I’m stupid enough to fall for that again? Still clinging to your family’s spooky bedtime story? You want a divorce? Not happening.”

She turned to her staff, her voice as cold as the tile floor. “Take him back to the mansion. Lock him up. And this time, don’t let him out without my say-so.”

...

They dragged me back.

Same room. Same cold concrete walls.

I slammed my fists against the door until the skin split.

“Open up! I need to see Denise!”

“I need to get to my dad. Tell me what it takes—money, power, I don’t care. Just open the damn door!”

One of the guards peeked in, face like stone. “Mr. Blackwell, don’t make this harder than it should be.”

So I screamed for three days straight. My voice cracked. My hands turned raw and bloody.

Hope bled out slowly, drop by drop.

Then, finally, the door creaked open. Denise stood there like nothing had happened.

“It’s Grandfather’s 80th,” she said. “You’re coming. This time, keep it together. No more drama.”

Alex’s POV

“Get him cleaned up. We leave in half an hour.”

The moment I received my phone back, I turned it on.

The screen lit up, revealing dozens of missed calls from the hospital.

My thumb trembled as I hit redial.

“Mr. Blackwell,” the nurse’s voice came through, panicked. “Why are you only just answering? Your father passed away last night…”

Everything after that was a blur.

It felt like I was walking underwater. People were speaking, hands were on my shoulders, and someone was handing me clothes.

None of it registered with me.

Next thing I knew, I was standing outside.

And there she was.

Denise, sitting in the car I bought for her. Arms around Sean like nothing had happened. Her window rolled down just long enough for her to throw a look at me, cold, detached.

“This car’s full,” she said, like I wasn't her husband. “You can take another one.”

She didn’t wait for a response and waved at the driver.

And they drove off.

I stood there, staring down at my phone. The hospital had just sent me my father’s death certificate.

And whatever grief I had left in me got buried by something darker.

Something solid.

Hatred.

Then it happened.

An eighteen-wheeler came screaming around the corner—tires shrieking, engine howling—completely out of control.