I Cursed My Wife After She Let My Father Die

There has always been a rumor about the Blackwell men.

They said we were cursed. People used to whisper that any woman who crossed one of us either ended up dead or was so wrecked she might as well have been.

The elite crowd in the capital?

They treat us like we’re radioactive and won’t even stand too close at parties. Like bad luck can rub off on designer shoes.

But Denise Weston? She didn’t give a damn.

She was my childhood sweetheart.

Denise knew me before the money, before the name meant anything. She ignored her family’s rants, slipped into a white dress, and asked me the question instead of waiting for me to ask it.

“Alex, I’m not afraid of any curse. Because I’d never betray you.”

Hell, I was moved. I believed her.

Of course, I married her,

Five years go by. We’re steady. Then her ex appears back from whatever rock overseas he’d been hiding under.

And just like that, it all starts coming apart at the seams. Every fight, every cold shoulder, every damn silence—it all had his name on it.

And then came the twist. After years of being dead set on staying child-free, she turns up pregnant.

Not mine.

His.

So I did the only thing that made sense.

I filed the divorce papers. I wanted to give her a chance to walk away clean before the curse kicked in.

She shredded them right in my face. “Alex, do you seriously think I believe that ridiculous curse? Go ahead, try to kill me!”

People started taking bets. Some thought Denise had seven days left. Others figured I’d tuck my pride between my legs, raise another man’s kid, and pretend I didn’t know better.

I didn’t argue. Didn’t defend myself.

Just turned and walked away.

Because we had history. Because part of me still wanted to give her a shot at surviving this.

But Denise made her choice. She chose not to take it.

——

Alex’s POV

Later that day, I stepped out of the Weston estate, and one of her people flagged me down.

She was standing there like she owned the place.

Arms crossed, chin up, Denise haughtily asked, “Alex, I’m pregnant. Where do you think you’re going without taking care of me?”

“Sean says he’s just a rough man and not detail-oriented. He says you should handle it.”

I stared her down, my voice flat and cold. “Aren’t you worried I might hurt the baby you’re carrying?”

She hurled the wine glass straight at my face when the words left my mouth. It shattered on impact—sharp sting, warm blood, cold wine.

“Alex, did you just threaten me?” she hissed. “You’d better watch yourself.”

With her eyebrow raised, Denise taunted me. “Don’t forget, your father is still in the hospital, in a coma. He is only alive because my family continues to pay for those medications.”

My fists clenched, hard enough to shake. Blood, stained with red wine, streamed down my face.

She forgot everything.

My father’s in that bed because he took a hit meant for her. He protected her. Now he’s brain-dead and doesn’t even blink on his own.

Then Sean Martin walked in.

Smug bastard. He walked like he owned the floor, tossing a towel at me like I needed help.

“Alex, you’ve been married for years, and still no kid? Could it be that you’re just not capable?”

The bastard grinned like it was funny. Like he was clever.

Then he scoffed. “I’m a generous guy. I don’t mind if Denise and I give the baby your last name.”

As he said that, he reached out to hand me the towel. I was just about to refuse when

Sean slipped on the broken glass and hit the floor hard. His palms were sliced open, and gasps flew from the crowd as if they were waiting for something to pop off.

Denise bolted over, eyes wild. Then her hand cracked across my face.

Furious, she yelled, “Alex, how dare you lay a hand on Sean right before me? Do you think I won’t do anything to you?”

Then, she ordered, “Kneel. Right now. Apologize, or I’ll pull the plug on your father’s oxygen.”

I tasted blood again. Different kind this time.

I gave her a slow, bitter smile. “Denise, fine, I’ll kneel. But are you absolutely sure Sean can handle what comes next?”

That shook him. I saw it. Sean's bravado cracked for half a second.

“Denise, baby, forget it. Not here. Too many people are watching.”

She looked at him like he was the second coming.

With eyes soft and a sweet voice, she said, “You’re too kind, Sean. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Then the private doctor rushed in with a med kit in hand.

Denise helped Sean up and followed the doctor into a side room.

As she passed me, she stopped.

She turned her head just enough to make sure I’d hear her.

“Someone take Alex to the confinement room. He doesn’t come out until I say so.”

I met her eyes, steady and unblinking.

My voice came out low and flat. “Denise. Don’t do something you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

She scoffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Let me guess, you’re going to start in with that Blackwell curse again? Save it, Alex. I’m not falling for your crap.”

She didn’t look back.

And all I could do was let out a breath and watch her walk away.