Billionaire Husband Went Crazy After Ex-Wife Died

In my fifth year of marriage to Dominic, I'd become the woman all of Chicago knew as the crazy one — the mental case. Jealousy gnawed at me constantly, and my temper frayed easily, my emotions sharp and unsteady, unravelling more with each passing day.

So it only made sense when he slid a divorce agreement across the table.

"Vivian's pregnant. A Harrington heir can't be born illegitimate, and Mrs. Harrington can't be a lunatic."

"Once she's had the baby, I’ll marry you again, and you'll still be Mrs. Harrington."

I was forced to sign my name, then locked away in a private sanatorium a hundred miles from the city.

The first year, I waited with desperate hope for him to come take me home. Instead, he handed me an ultrasound report.

"Twins — a boy and a girl. Vivian's pregnant again. Just wait a little longer."

The second year, he had electric fencing installed around the sanatorium grounds.

"Harrington Corp is going public. We can't afford any slip-ups right now."

By the fifth year, he simply called to tell me to wait one more year.

He must have expected me to scream and lose control the way I always did. But this time, I just nodded calmly.

"Alright. However long it takes."

After all.

I didn't have much time left anyway.

The other end of the line was noisy — Vivian's laughter mingling with children's voices drifted through the phone.

Dominic was silent for a few seconds, then lowered his voice.

"Claire, don't do this. You know my hands are tied."

I'd been hearing that line for five straight years. The old me would've torn the world apart, demanding to know what excuse the almighty Harrington family could possibly have.

But now.

I pulled the blanket over my legs — long since stiff and unresponsive — and took a deep breath.

"If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up. I need to rest."

On the other end, Dominic was rushing out the door, his patience already wearing thin.

"I made you a promise, and I'll keep it. But the children are still young — taking them from their mother would hurt them. If you're so petty you can't even tolerate a couple of kids, how do you expect to run the Harrington household?"

"I have things to deal with. Think it over, and stop being so unreasonable."

The line went dead. For the first time, I didn't cry. I didn't scream.

I was about to wheel myself back to my room when the old symptoms flared up again.

A searing pain tore through my chest. I toppled from the chair and hit the floor hard, blood surging up my throat and choking off my voice. I tried to speak but couldn't stop coughing.

The medication was gone. I dug my nails into my palms, fighting to stay conscious. I forced out a few words.

"Call... call Dominic."

My caregiver Nora scrambled for the phone, hands shaking — but as always, the call wouldn't go through.

Through the haze, I remembered.

Three years ago, the first time my illness struck, I hadn't known what was wrong with me. I was terrified.

After I called Dominic, he drove through the night to be with me. But that same evening, Vivian — pregnant at the time — accidentally ate something that sent her to the hospital.

He lost his temper with me for the first time. That very day, he pulled every staff member from the sanatorium, cut off my contact with the outside world, and even blocked my number. I'd begged and pleaded just to keep Nora by my side.

After a dozen failed attempts, the call finally connected. I lay on the floor, my whole body trembling with pain.

"Dominic, help me."

Before everything went black, his irritated voice reached my ears.

"I'm really busy right now. I don't have time to indulge you. There's only so many times you can pull this. Stop with the same stunt you did three years ago — it's getting old."

When I woke up in bed, the sky had gone completely dark. Nora was still sitting beside me.

My phone buzzed with dozens of photos from Vivian — all of the three of them at a pet shop, posing from every angle.

"Look how happy we are together! Dominic says he can't bear to be away from us, so even last night he was holding me, trying to figure out how to get rid of you."

"Oh, and when you called? He was grooming the dog we adopted together. After all, he always says my needs come first."

Dominic was severely allergic to dogs. We'd once had a huge fight over getting one.

That war ended with me finding a new home for the dog I'd raised for years.

And now here he was, risking a full-blown allergic reaction to groom a dog with his own hands. If that wasn't love, what was?

I laughed bitterly, typed back "That's nice," and put my phone away.

The room sank back into darkness. In the distance, fireworks exploded across the sky — spelling out Vivian's name.

I dragged myself to the floor and pulled open the drawer where I kept the old photos and letters from my time with Dominic.

When I left the Harrington Estate, I hadn't taken a single thing — except these.

The flames in the fireplace pushed back the darkness. Behind me, the fireworks kept going, one after another, without pause.

For so long, I'd been trapped in memories that should have been buried, and being the perfect Mrs. Harrington had become my obsession.

Whatever time I had left, I was going to live it for myself.