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