Breaking The Silence: Leaving Her CEO Husband

"Arabella Butcher!"

The voice that tore through the silence was thick with fury, jolting Arabella from her slumber. As her eyes snapped open, a vice-like grip clamped around her throat.

"How dare you take advantage of my drunken state and sneak into my bed?"

Horror widened Arabella's eyes as she met the icy, threatening glare of her husband, Owen Murray.

Flashbacks of the previous night surged through her mind-Owen staggering through the door, reeking of alcohol. She had tried to assist him to his room, but in a blur, he had pushed her onto the bed. His next actions were swift and harsh-a searing kiss that she was powerless to stop.

Her muteness had left her voiceless, unable to protest or explain, as Owen's overpowering presence pinned her down.

Last night had unfolded in a whirlwind of his unrestrained desires, and Arabella couldn't recall when she finally slipped into sleep.

Snapped back to the presence, Arabella mustered the strength to gesture, eager to offer an explanation, but Owen's harsh shove sent her tumbling off the bed.

The morning chill wrapped around her naked body, forcing her to burrow into the sheets, seeking their fading warmth.

"Three years ago, you and your mother conspired to force me into marrying you, expecting me to forgive your father's atrocities. Now, here you are, attempting your twisted games once more. Every one of your family members is a crooked, backstabbing piece of trash!" Owen's voice was a low, dangerous hiss, curling around the room like a sinister whisper.

The blood drained from Arabella's face, leaving her looking like a lifeless porcelain doll.

Three years ago, Owen's one true love, Aria Jenkins, had been mercilessly kidnapped. Following her harrowing escape, a tragic car accident left her in a vegetative state, a dire situation tied back to Arabella's father, Kristian Butcher.

Kristian had been vehemently professing his innocence, denying all allegations of kidnapping or intending harm to Aria. Yet, it was his number that the ransom demands traced back to, and he was undeniably present at the accident that befell her. The evidence against him was overwhelming, leading to a ten-year sentence behind bars.

During that tumultuous time, Arabella's mother, Khloe Butcher, desperate to save Kristian and cement ties with the influential Murray family, had resorted to drugging Owen and Arabella.

Under the haze of narcotics, Arabella had been coerced into Owen's bed, an act that sealed their fates together. They spent that night intertwined, and by the next dawn, under the stern gaze of Owen's grandmother, Julissa Murray, the reluctant groom was pressed into a marriage with Arabella.

Arabella could never erase the image of Owen's face from that day. It was a visage marred by revulsion, seething rage, and a deep-seated loathing.

Today, his face reflected that same storm of emotions from three years ago.

Back then, Arabella had been just as much a victim of Khloe's schemes as Owen, yet Owen had dismissed her attempts at explaining the truth.

Last night's events only compounded their strained relations. Owen, convinced Arabella had schemed against him again, dismissed her frantic gestures and the pleading in her eyes as mere acts of deception.

Observing the hickeys that marred her skin only darkened Owen's gaze further, his lips twisting into a scornful sneer. "You may be mute, but your actions scream louder than words ever could. What's your angle this time, Arabella? After getting laid with me yet again, what is it that you're after?"

Arabella clutched her chest, a dull ache blooming deep within. Her muteness wasn't something she was born with-her voice was cruelly stolen from her by a tragic accident years ago. Yet, in his eyes, she was nothing more than a conniving figure. Since that was the case, she might as well...

Desperate, Arabella communicated through swift, emphatic sign language, her hands painting the urgency in the air-her father was gravely ill, and she pleaded for his medical parole. Her eyes, brimming with a plea for compassion, met only a chilling coldness in return.

Owen's face darkened as he understood Arabella's gestures, an intimidating aura emanating from him as he seized her chin. His fingers, long and usually graceful, now exerted a painful pressure, forcing her to meet his stormy gaze.

"Medical parole? Your father's the reason Aria lies comatose, trapped in an endless night! I want him to suffer in a cell for the rest of his miserable life. And you honestly believe one night with you would sway me?"

Arabella flinched under his iron grip, fear flickering through her as she felt her jaw threaten to give way under his force. Frantically, she signed again, her movements sharp with desperation-Kristian was innocent!

Arabella's mind raced through memories of Kristian, a beacon of honesty and integrity. He had always been the gentle soul who had tirelessly juggled multiple jobs to keep them afloat, never once succumbing to the easy escape of debt. Kidnapping, extortion-such crimes were unfathomable, completely out of character for him.

For years, Arabella had investigated tirelessly behind the scenes, chasing every clue to prove Kristian's innocence.

Just yesterday, Arabella's visit had shown her how much Kristian had withered under prison's merciless grip-frail, hollow-eyed, plagued by relentless nosebleeds and violent coughs that left bloodstains on his handkerchief. The sight of his suffering ignited her determination-she couldn't, wouldn't let despair win. Petrified, she desperately wanted to secure medical parole for Kristian, but without Owen's approval, no one had the guts to set Kristian free.

Arabella's unyielding belief in Kristian's innocence only fueled Owen's fury.

"Really, Arabella? Even with the evidence staring you in the face, you choose to ignore it?" Owen's voice was laced with incredulity.

Arabella attempted to explain once more, her hands moving in earnest, but Owen, his patience fraying, pushed her roughly aside. "Enough with the damn gestures, Arabella! They're pissing me off."

Dismissing her pleas, he turned to leave.

Arabella, gripped by urgency, clutched at his trousers.

Owen's eyes flashed frostily as he glanced back. "Let go of me! Now!"

Arabella gestured desperately, reminding him that today was Aria's transfusion day, and in exchange for his help, she'd offer up her own blood without hesitation.

Aria's health was precarious. She relied on frequent blood transfusions.

Luckily, both Arabella and Aria shared the same rare blood type, making Arabella an invaluable donor for Aria.

Abruptly, Owen's grip tightened in Arabella's hair, pulling sharply. Her face paled from the intense pain, her expression mirroring the horror of facing a demon straight from the depths of hell.

"What are you implying? That you'll withhold your blood if I refuse to grant your father medical parole?" Owen's voice rose, a mix of anger and disbelief coloring his tone as Arabella crumpled under the agony.

Arabella's throat tightened, the scream trapped like a bird in a cage, silent and desperate. She flinched, her eyes wide, as Owen suddenly loomed over her, his face alarmingly close to hers.

She drew in a sharp breath, her heart pounding against her ribs.

"Arabella, listen to me." Owen's voice was low and menacing, each word a deliberate drop of venom. "You and your father are to blame for Aria's condition. If she suffers any further, I swear, your whole family will regret it. Now, get the hell out of here!"

The raw intensity in Owen's eyes unleashed a cold wave of terror within Arabella. His accusations were like daggers, slicing through her, leaving her breathless and wounded.

A sharp, relentless fear for Kristian's safety clawed at Arabella, tightening its grip with every passing second. With every ounce of courage she could muster, she wrapped herself in the nearest sheet and escaped from the oppressive atmosphere of the master bedroom, her footsteps echoing as she descended to the sanctuary of the basement.

Once they were married, Owen had banished Arabella to the basement, treating her like an unwanted shadow. It had been a grave mistake to come upstairs last night-an accident fraught with unintended consequences.

Arabella didn't care where she lived-so long as she was Owen's wife, so long as she could stay by his side, nothing else mattered.

With just a bed, a table, and a chair, the basement felt more like a prison than a living space.

Owen's lavish master suite was a world away from Arabella's bleak, lifeless space-a place she had quietly suffered in for almost three years.

The oppressive heat made Arabella's skin feel clammy, prompting her to head down to the first-floor bathroom for a refreshing shower. It was there, amidst the steam and the sound of running water, that she inadvertently caught the maids' hushed conversation.

"That mute is utterly shameless, sneaking into Mr. Murray's bed when he was drunk!"

"Absolutely! Everyone knows Mr. Murray's heart belongs to Miss Jenkins. That mute has no place here, and she's bound for a grim fate."

"The day Miss Jenkins regains consciousness will be the day that mute is expelled from the Murray household."

Arabella's gaze fell to the floor, her heart sinking with the weight of their words. She knew all too well that her time with Owen wasn't truly hers-it was borrowed, slipping through her fingers like sand. The thought of Aria awakening was a specter looming over her fragile marriage, signaling the inevitable divorce.

Though the future was a blur of uncertainty, Arabella still clung to each second with Owen, treasuring the stolen time as if it were her last.

By the time Arabella emerged from the bathroom, Owen had already slipped into his attire. Clad in a sharply tailored black suit that complemented his tall, slender build, he exuded an air of quiet authority. The suit was accentuated by a white shirt and a black tie, which was elegantly fastened at the neck with a silver tie clip that gleamed under the soft lighting, adding a dash of understated luxury.

His presence alone was a spectacle, with every line and angle of his chiseled features cutting a striking figure that captured the room's attention.

Arabella found herself inexplicably drawn to Owen, her gaze lingering a moment too long, perhaps enchanted or merely caught in the gravity of his aura.

A delicate blush tinged Arabella's cheeks-a mix of the lingering warmth from her recent shower and the electrifying nearness of Owen.

Dressed in black leather gloves, Owen wordlessly offered Arabella a white phone, his expression unreadable. With an impassive look, he remarked, "You rushed out so fast that you left your phone behind."

Arabella, still reeling from the intensity of their earlier encounter, hesitated before accepting the phone. His earlier fury seemed at odds with this considerate gesture, leaving her puzzled and wary.

As her fingers wrapped around the device, she glanced down at the screen. The message displayed sent a shock through her, leaving her as pale as if she had just seen a ghost.