My alpha ignored me for 3 years in our forced family marriage—then he chased me after our divorce.
Done. Three years of forced vows, silent dinners, and a bed that stayed cold even when he slept beside me—gone with a single word. I’d wanted to scream at him, to demand why he’d let our marriage rot, but I didn’t. I was Eric Ashford, heir to a pharmaceutical empire, not some lovesick fool. Not anymore.
I was still staring at the papers when my phone buzzed. The screen lit up with an unknown number, and I almost ignored it. Almost. “Mr. Ashford?” a woman’s voice crackled through, clipped and urgent. “This is Mass General Hospital. Your husband’s been in an accident. He’s alive, but you should come now.” My heart stuttered, then plummeted. Husband. The word felt like a mockery, but my body moved before my mind could catch up. I grabbed my keys, the divorce papers fluttering to the floor, and ran...
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