Craved By My Ex's Brother: A Taboo Affair

Beyond Betrayal

A twisted smirk curled the corner of his mouth as he lowered the gun, shaking his head in disbelief. He sniffed, his chest heaving with the effort to control himself.

“I loved you, Abigail,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly, though the anger remained. His smirk vanished, replaced by a grimace of pure anguish. “I f*****g loved you. We even had a daughter together—a beautiful little girl. And yet…” He paused, his lips curling in disgust. “You still did this to me.”

Abigail sobbed harder, her hands clasped together as she begged, but her words fell on deaf ears.

“You’re dead to me,” he said coldly, his voice devoid of the warmth it once held. “You hear me? You are f*****g dead to me.”

He leaned closer, his eyes burning with unrelenting fury. “I don’t ever want to see your face again. Not near me, not near our daughter. If you so much as breathe near her, I swear to God, Abigail, I’ll bust your head open.”

His words were final, like the toll of a death knell. She cried harder, her body shaking, but he didn’t care anymore. He stepped back, his gaze dropping to the floor.

The once-beautiful roses he’d brought for her lay crushed underfoot, the vibrant red petals scattered across the room. The engagement ring he had carried with such hope now glinted faintly in the dim light, a painful reminder of everything they had lost.

Christopher’s jaw tightened as he stepped on the roses, grinding them beneath his heel with a deliberate motion. Then, with a swift, calculated move, he bent down, picked up the ring, and snapped it in half with a strength fueled by raw emotion.

Blood spattered across his face from the earlier c*****e, but he wiped it away with the sleeve of his suit, his movements methodical and eerily calm.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number. The silence between each ring felt like an eternity until a gruff voice answered on the other end.

“Richard,” Christopher said, his tone clipped and businesslike, as though he hadn’t just shattered his life moments ago. “Get to Abigail’s place. I’ve got a dead body here. Take care of it.”

He didn’t wait for a response, ending the call abruptly and slipping the phone back into his pocket. His movements were smooth, precise, as he pulled a comb from his jacket, running it through his hair with an air of detachment. Dusting off his suit, he adjusted his tie, the picture of cold efficiency.

Without another glance at Abigail, who remained sobbing on the floor, or at the lifeless body slumped against the dresser, Christopher walked out.

As he stepped into the cool night air, the door clicking shut behind him, he took a deep breath. The weight of his decision pressed on his chest, but he wouldn’t let it crush him. Not now.

Not ever.

***

As Christopher strode into his office building, his usual aura of commanding confidence was overshadowed by a simmering irritation.

The elevator ride felt excruciatingly slow, the ticking of his Rolex mocking the urgency of the situation. His jaw clenched as he imagined the chaos Abigail was likely causing, her penchant for drama fueling the fiery storm awaiting him.

When the elevator doors finally slid open, the muffled sounds of shouting reached his ears. His pace quickened, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floors.

As he approached his office, the scene unfolded: Abigail stood in the middle of the reception area, her red hair wild and her designer heels clattering as she stomped around. Papers and files were scattered across the floor, and a terrified assistant cowered near the desk.

"Where the hell is he?!" Abigail screamed, her voice echoing through the hall. "I know he's here! Christopher, you can't avoid me forever!"

Clinton stood at the side, his expression a mix of exasperation and helplessness. When his eyes met Christopher's, he let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God you're here, man. She's been at it for twenty minutes. I think she's gone feral."

Christopher raised a hand, signaling Clinton to back off. He stepped into the room, his presence immediately commanding silence.

Abigail stood in the middle of the chaos, her face flushed with anger, her hands on her hips, and her perfectly manicured nails tapping impatiently on her thighs. Her sharp, dark eyes locked onto Christopher the moment he entered the room.

She wore a crimson dress, hugging her figure in all the ways she knew used to drive him wild, but now it only made his blood boil.

"Finally," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "The great Christopher Cooper decides to show up. What the hell, Chris? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks!"

"Abigail," Christopher said, his tone low and dangerous, "what the f**k are you doing here?"

She crossed her arms, defiance written all over her face. "We need to talk, Ivan. You can't just cut me out of your life like I never existed. I made a mistake—"

"A mistake?" He interrupted, his voice rising. He took a step closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. "Sleeping with your boss, lying to me, and then trying to justify it? That’s not a mistake, Abigail. That’s betrayal. And you expect me to entertain this tantrum after everything you’ve done?"

Abigail's lips quivered, but she held her ground. "I know I messed up, okay? But we were good together, Chris. I miss you, and I know you miss me too."

Abigail knew the reason why she cheated on Christopher was that she was a f*****g s*x addict and loves getting numerous c***s of men in her p***y. Was she ready to change? No. Why? Because that same day Christopher killed her boss she f****d another dude at the club and she has been like that for years up till now.

Christopher let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Miss you? The only thing I miss is the peace I had before you walked back into my life today."

“And you don't have any right to wreck my office and act like a goddamn lunatic. Now, you're going to pick up the mess you made, and then you're going to leave. This conversation is over."

She took a step closer, her chin jutting out defiantly. "But at least just let me see our daughter. Grant me this wish Christopher” she snapped as she stomped her door on the floor. "I want to see our daughter."

The only reason why she wanted to see her daughter was just to get close to Christopher again. Why? Because she missed his c**k, not that age misses her daughter.

Fuck that little b***h, she wanted to get rid of her. It was because of Christopher, she kept her.

She missed how he devoured her body, she wanted that so bad. She has been with several men over the years but no one f***s her like Christopher. No one worships her body like him.

At her words, Christopher's entire body stiffened. His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled in disdain.

"She’s not our daughter," he said coldly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "She’s mine. You lost any claim to her the moment you walked out of her life."

Abigail’s face twisted in fury. "You bastard. You're refusing me to let me see my own daughter" she hissed. "She’s as much mine as she is yours! I gave birth to her! She’s my little girl too, whether you like it or not!"

Christopher laughed bitterly, the sound devoid of humor. "Your little girl? Don’t make me laugh, Abigail. Where were you when she was crying for her mother? When she had nightmares and needed someone to hold her? You were too busy spreading your legs for your boss to even think about her."

Her hand shot up to slap him, but Christopher caught her wrist mid-air, his grip firm but controlled. "Don’t you dare," he warned, his voice dangerously quiet. "Don’t you dare pretend you care about her now, after everything you’ve done."

Abigail yanked her hand free, her eyes blazing. "I made a mistake, Chris, but I’m still her mother! You can’t just erase me from her life!"

He took a step closer, looming over her, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Watch me. My little girl doesn’t need someone like you in her life. You’re poison, Abigail, and I won’t let you anywhere near her."

Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "You self-righteous asshole!" she yelled. "You think you’re so perfect? So damn noble? You’re not! You’re just a bitter, controlling—"

"Enough!" Christopher roared, his voice echoing through the room and silencing her tirade. He took a deep breath, his chest heaving as he fought to regain control.

When he spoke again, his voice was calmer but no less intense. "This isn’t about you or me, Abigail. This is about her. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her from people like you."

Abigail glared at him, her chest rising and falling with the effort to keep herself together. "She’s my daughter too," she said through gritted teeth, her voice shaking with rage and desperation. "You can’t keep her from me forever, Chris. I’ll fight you for her if I have to."

Christopher stepped back, his expression hard and unyielding. "Try it," he said, his voice cold as ice. "But don’t forget, Abigail, every fight you start, I’ll finish. You’ve already lost her once. Don’t make the mistake of losing her forever. And don't allow me to come back and still meet you here."

“Wait on second thought” he looked at Clinton signaling him to take Abigail out of there. She was a nuisance and he doesn't want that in his company.

With that, he turned and strode out of the office, leaving Abigail standing amidst the wreckage and cursing him.