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Goodbye, My Dearest Enemy Novel Cover

Goodbye, My Dearest Enemy

Carolyn accidentally liked an article criticizing her husband's mistress’s poor acting. The very next day, photos from her youth flooded the internet—images of her dressed provocatively, fawning over wealthy bosses while serving drinks. When the news reached her, Carolyn’s mind exploded with a deafening roar. An instant, bone-deep chill swept through her body. Fingers trembling, she called Carl, desperate to ask what on earth was going on. He answered only to say hurriedly, “I’m busy,” and hung up. Every message she sent him afterwards vanished without a trace. Carolyn refused to give up. On her fifty-fifth attempt, Carl finally picked up. His breathing on the other end was heavy, muffled, feverish. “Can’t you bother my assistant with your problems? Must I clean up your messes every single time?” Carolyn was taken aback. She drew a sharp breath, hesitated, then finally asked, “Did you post those photos online?” Carl scoffed. Through the receiver came the rhythmic, unmistakable creak of a bedframe. He hadn’t stopped—if anything, his movements grew more forceful, drawing a soft gasp from the person beneath him. “Carl… is that your wife? Does she hate me? Why did she sic those trolls on me?” The voice was fragmented, nearly lost to ragged breathing. “What if I did post them?” Carl’s tone turned icy. “Carolyn, if you don’t want your mother on her deathbed to see those photos, you’d better behave.” The sounds from the call continued, but they weren’t for Carolyn anymore. “You only need me to like you. I’ve already punished Carolyn for you, little darling. Don’t be angry, okay?” Their heavy, intertwined breathing and stifled moans pierced her like a dagger, brutally twisting in her heart. “Good girl, relax. Let me…” Then, all sound cut off, plunging into silence. The monotonous dial tone severed every torturous image in her mind. Carolyn’s heart sank. Her face turned ashen; her spirit plummeted. A flood of buried memories washed over her. Seven years ago, she had paved Carl’s way, glass after glass of alcohol. She had prostrated herself at men’s feet to fund his education, to scrape together his startup capital. When he proposed, Carl told her, “I’ll become successful—famous. I’ll make everyone envy you. I’ll love you for a lifetime.” Back then, her heart brimmed with devotion. She never imagined that sincerity would prove so fleeting, crumbling less than a month into their marriage. Every promise now lay like shattered glass, reflecting her own foolish image back at her. They had moved from a five-hundred-dollar basement to the elite Hillside Villa. Everyone said she’d hit the jackpot. Only she knew the hardship behind it all. She’d stayed up with him until dawn. During the toughest times, trapped between her mother’s exorbitant ICU bills and Carl’s tuition, she’d shed her dignity—enduring the oily, repulsive hands of men roaming her back and waist. The bitter days were finally over. But her husband had changed. Suddenly, the sharp screech of tires braking pierced the air outside. The next second, the door flew open. Dorothy stormed in, furious. Immediately, she grabbed a fistful of Carolyn’s hair. “It’s all over the city! I’ll be the laughingstock of every society matron! You shameless, promiscuous slut!” Pursing her lips, Dorothy looked Carolyn up and down as if she were garbage. “What a curse on this family, to bring a jinx like you into our home.” Carolyn found it laughable. “Mom, that’s not what you said back then. You called me your family’s lucky star. You said marrying me was your greatest fortune.”
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Chapter 4

She folded the paper along its original creases with numb precision and tucked it deep into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

Just as her hand withdrew, the bathroom door opened.

Carl approached, steam still clinging to his skin from the shower. He slipped his arms around her from behind, his hands beginning to wander.

The moment his touch grazed her waist, her body went rigid. She pushed him away.

“I’m sorry… I don’t feel well.”

His hand froze in mid-air. *Don’t feel well*—the words doused the flicker of his arousal like a bucket of ice water.

“Right. Get some rest, then.” His tone held a barely concealed edge.

He retreated to his side of the bed and switched off the lamp.

Carolyn closed her eyes, her mind already churning. One month left. Her mother was too frail to travel, so she had to find a new assisted living facility. And then—

Carl’s phone on the nightstand chimed with a flurry of notifications, then shrilled into a ring.

He snatched it up. Even from across the bed, Carolyn could hear the voice on the line.

“Sir, Miss Karen is insisting on seeing you. She won’t take her medication otherwise. Please, you must come at once—”

Before the sentence finished, Carl threw back the covers, grabbed his jacket, and strode for the door.

“Don’t forget dinner with your mother tomorrow,” Carolyn reminded his retreating back.

What Carl did was no longer her concern—but she wouldn’t let her mother down.

“Tomorrow afternoon. Go directly and wait for me.” With that, he was gone.

He didn’t even notice he’d put his jacket on inside-out, or that he was wearing mismatched socks.

So this was her. The reason he left night after night. The one who could throw the always-impeccable Carl into such disarray.

Seeing the first hints of dawn at the window, she gave up on sleep. She rose and went down to the kitchen.

When she walked into the living room with a bowl of noodles, she stopped. Carl was entering from the foyer, a young woman cradled in his arms. His movements were impossibly gentle, as though he held the world’s most fragile treasure.

He looked up and saw her. His step hitched; his tone turned formal, detached. “You’re up. This is Karen, Mr. Dylan’s daughter. Her leukemia has relapsed. Her condition was unstable at the hospital—the doctor recommended home care. Her parents are away, so I’ve brought her to stay for a few days.”

Carolyn’s gaze settled on the girl named Karen. Sickly pale, clinging to Carl’s side, she looked the picture of frail innocence. But when their eyes met, Carolyn saw straight through it—an unmistakable flash of triumph.

So this was the person. The one who summoned Carl night after night. The one who could make him lose all composure.

Countless needles seemed to prick her heart; a bitter ache rose in her throat. “Alright.”

Karen tugged lightly on Carl’s sleeve. “Carl… the doctor said I need plenty of natural light and a calm environment to recover. A sunny, quiet room would be best… Do you think… Carolyn would mind?”

Instantly, every servant in the living room looked their way. A shock passed through them. “That’s the master bedroom!”

Carolyn’s fingers tightened slightly around the bowl. She lifted her eyes and said, clearly, “I do mind.”

The three words darkened Carl’s face instantly. He looked at her, his gaze pressing down with undeniable force. “Karen’s health is the only priority. Not the slightest risk can be taken. You’ll move to the guest room. Temporarily. She takes the master suite.”

He was doing this. In front of everyone. For another woman. Stripping her of the last shred of dignity she held as the lady of the house.

A chill shot from her feet to the crown of her head. The heartache drowned, swallowed by a crushing wave of humiliation. She could see the servants whispering behind their hands.

“Fine.” Her own voice sounded unnervingly calm. “Prepare the room for Miss Karen.” Resistance was pointless. For her mother’s sake, she would swallow this bitterness.

Watching the servants clear her things from the master suite, a fresh wave of sorrow washed through her. After a long moment, a quiet thought surfaced. *It doesn’t matter. Soon I’ll be gone. None of this will be my concern.*

“We have dinner with your mother tonight. Will you… still be able to make it?”

Carl grunted in acknowledgment.

“Then I’ll go see her at the hospital first.”

Carolyn picked up her simple bag and walked out. She hailed a cab, slid in, and gave the driver the address of the hospital.

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