Divorce Unleashed Her: The Mafia Empress Awakens

In the dim light of the hospital room, a woman's trembling voice broke the heavy silence. "Ah—no… Carl… not here… Ashlyn is still lying right there. No matter what, she is your wife. We shouldn't be doing this beside her bed…"

"What is there to fear?" came the man's low, mocking reply. "She cannot see. She cannot hear. And let us not forget—you were the one who pursued me first, her so-called closest friend."

"Mmm… Carl… I know… I was truly in the wrong… slow down… be gentler…"

Upon the hospital bed lay a woman of exquisite beauty, her features serene and unmarred even in profound stillness. Beside her, a man and a woman—garments askew, limbs entwined—indulged in illicit passion with brazen disregard for propriety.

Even as he held Paulina Ward close, Carl Hughes spared only a fleeting, indifferent glance for the woman who had lain unconscious for three long years, his wife, Ashlyn Marsh. She appeared unchanged—radiantly beautiful, eternally silent, untouched by the passage of time.

For reasons rooted in his own greed and ambition, Carl wished fervently that Ashlyn would remain asleep forever—an eternal sleeping beauty, never to awaken.

What neither of them could possibly have foreseen was that, throughout those three agonizing years, Ashlyn's body had been imprisoned in slumber while her mind remained painfully, inescapably alert.

She could not open her eyes, yet every sound within that room reached her with cruel clarity.

Every act, every whispered betrayal committed by this shameless pair over those endless months and years, had assaulted her hearing. She had endured three years of unrelenting psychological torment.

Only in this helpless state did Ashlyn finally comprehend the bitter truth that the man for whom she had left behind everything—even her own family—was nothing more than a consummate liar, a creature of deceit and depravity.

From the very beginning, he had deceived her at every turn.

The sounds of Carl and Paulina intensified in volume, their rhythmic movements and the persistent creaking of the frame fueling a blaze of rage within her. She longed to rise, to confront and kill them both in that very moment.

Perhaps the torrent of her emotions surged beyond endurance, and a finger, long deprived of her command after years of immobility, stirred with the faintest, almost imperceptible tremor.

And Paulina noticed it.

"Carl," Paulina gasped, her voice laced with sudden unease, "I swear I just saw Ashlyn's finger move. She… she isn't waking up, is she?"

"Calm yourself, darling," Carl replied breathlessly, leaning in to silence Paulina with a kiss. "There is no chance of that."

Paulina's curiosity only grew. "Why are you so certain?"

"Because for the past three years," Carl confessed between labored breaths, "I have been adding a special foreign drug to her infusions—one that ensures she remains unconscious for the rest of her life."

That was the source of Carl's unshakable confidence that Ashlyn would never awaken.

"While we're on the subject," he continued carelessly, "I might as well tell you the rest. Three years ago, that car accident was no accident at all. I orchestrated it. I needed Ashlyn incapacitated so that, as her lawful husband, I could seize control of her shares."

A shadow of bitterness flickered across his face.

"If Ashlyn hadn't wielded such formidable influence in the company, I would have ensured she died that day. Instead, I've spent these three years playing the role of the devoted husband—ever at her bedside—so the board and staff would gradually accept my authority. But this charade has dragged on far longer than it should have."

Believing Ashlyn utterly devoid of awareness, Carl gave voice to his darkest, most unfiltered thoughts without hesitation.

After all, he was certain that Ashlyn could not hear him and that she would sleep eternally.

Unbeknownst to Carl, his words only fanned the flames of Ashlyn's inner turmoil, driving her anguish to its breaking point.

So everything had been his doing.

Three years earlier, Ashlyn had joyfully accepted Carl's invitation to celebrate their fourth wedding anniversary—only to suffer a near-fatal crash.

She had always assumed it was a tragic mishap. Never had she suspected his hand in it.

No wonder she had emerged gravely injured while Carl, seated beside her in the same luxury car, escaped without a single scratch.

Most bitterly ironic of all was that, in her final moments of consciousness before the coma claimed her, she had pleaded with her dearest friend, Paulina, to care for Carl should anything happen to her.

And care for him she had—straight into her own bed.

There could be no forgiveness for this.

With every recollection of the immense sacrifices she had made for Carl's sake, a fresh dagger of pain twisted in Ashlyn's heart.

How had she fallen so far? How had she allowed herself to be so utterly deceived?

She had once been the rightful heiress to the Deity Syndicate—a shadowy empire so formidable that few dared even whisper its name.

Cherished deeply by her parents and idolized by her five elder brothers, she had been raised as though she were a princess in her own kingdom.

Exceptionally gifted and fiercely capable, she had been meticulously prepared by her father—the undisputed leader of the Syndicate—to inherit his mantle, defying tradition by passing it to a daughter.

Her brothers, without a trace of resentment, had pledged their unwavering loyalty, vowing to support her reign without question.

Yet for the sake of Carl Hughes, she had renounced her beloved family. She had severed every tie, abandoned her legacy, and followed him across the globe to Giphis. There, with nothing but her own brilliance and determination, she had built a thriving company from scratch and single-handedly elevated the entire Hughes family from destitution to prosperity.

And how had the Hughes family repaid her boundless devotion?

Convinced she was an orphan with no kin to defend her, they had tormented her relentlessly. Carl's mother, in particular, had treated her as little more than a domestic servant, issuing commands with the casual arrogance one might reserve for hired staff.

In the past, Ashlyn had endured it all without complaint.

Only now, trapped in the agony of betrayal, did she see how profoundly mistaken she had been.

At that instant, Carl's phone shattered the charged atmosphere. With a flicker of annoyance, he disentangled himself from Paulina and snatched it up. Upon glimpsing the caller's name, his expression brightened instantly, and he answered without delay.

"Wonderful news, Paulina—the banquet is about to begin!" Three minutes later, Carl ended the call and hurried back to Paulina, his face alight with triumphant glee.

"So the senior executives have finally accepted your proposal?" Paulina asked, her excitement surpassing even Carl's.

"They have. The old guard has yielded at last. Tonight, they will formally announce that I am stepping into Ashlyn's position. All those years of feigning the devoted husband have finally paid off." Carl could scarcely contain his elation.

After all, those very executives had once been fiercely loyal to Ashlyn alone.

"Congratulations, my love," Paulina purred, nestling into his embrace. "And what of me?"

"Have no fear," Carl assured her, sliding an arm possessively around her waist and drawing her close for a lingering kiss. "I never forget my promises. Once my authority is unquestioned, I will marry you."

A cold glint sharpened his gaze. "And when that day comes, Ashlyn will have no further reason to draw breath."

"Carl, I love you beyond words!" Paulina exclaimed, radiant with joy.

At long last, her patience had been rewarded.

Hand in hand, the pair departed the room like a victorious, enamored couple, utterly convinced of their impending triumph.

No one noticed the profound shift unfolding within the quiet hospital chamber.

Ashlyn's motionless form began to tremble violently, as though hatred itself coursed through her veins like molten fire. Her consciousness, long imprisoned, grew razor-sharp, piercing the veil of darkness with relentless clarity.

Feeling gradually returned to limbs that had lain dormant for years.

At last, in the chill solitude of that sterile hospital room, Ashlyn's eyes snapped open—ablaze with a terrifying, unearthly crimson glow.

She had awakened.