My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage

Chapter 559:

Kristopher’s face drained of emotion, his weariness palpable. “This has nothing to do with Lise,” he said firmly. “Don’t let Daxton’s words poison your mind. He wants to drive a wedge between us. He hates me and just wants to see us fall apart.”

A bitter laugh escaped Carrie’s lips, sharp and hollow. “And why is it that you can trust Lise, but I can’t trust Daxton? Let me remind you, even before Daxton came back, Lise had already done everything in her power to destroy me. No one needed to stir up trouble for her—she’s perfectly capable of that on her own.”

Kristopher’s jaw tightened as frustration boiled beneath his calm exterior. “I know Lise has made mistakes,” he admitted, his tone laced with exasperation. “She’s petty, jealous, and manipulative. But she wouldn’t go as far as murder.”

He paused, then added, “Everyone has a motive for what they do. Even if Lise is a bad person, what would she gain by killing you?”

Carrie’s gaze turned cold, her lips curving into a sardonic smile. “Wouldn’t she? Are you really that naive, Kristopher? Without me in the picture, she’d finally have what she’s always wanted—to be Mrs. Norris.”

“That’s impossible,” Kristopher snapped, his voice rising for the first time. “I’ve already told her I’m sending her abroad. No matter what happens, I’ll never marry her. She’s my sister—nothing more.”

“Sister?” Carrie shot back, her voice dripping with mockery. “You two dated before.” She rolled her eyes. He was just being stubborn.

“That was a long time ago,” Kristopher said, his voice faltering. He sighed, his shoulders slumping as the fight drained from him. “It’s just not happening. You have to trust me.”

Too exhausted to argue further, Carrie turned away and buried herself deeper under the covers.

Kristopher sighed quietly and stepped out of the bedroom. As he entered the hallway, Oliver appeared, heading toward him. His gaze immediately landed on Kristopher’s injured wrist, his eyes widening in alarm. “Mr. Norris, what happened to your wrist? That looks serious! The doctors haven’t gone far—I’ll bring them back right away.”

Before Kristopher could object, Oliver had already spun on his heels and hurried off. Kristopher barely spared his injury a second glance. The puncture marks throbbed, and a faint numbness spread through his wrist. Rotating his wrist slowly, he tested his fingers. They moved without issue, though a faint stiffness lingered. He let out a breath, dropping his hand to his side, and walked purposefully toward the study.

Ten minutes later, Oliver returned with a doctor in tow. Kristopher was already seated at his desk, engrossed in a series of reports. The doctor approached swiftly, inspecting the wound with a practiced eye. “Oliver,” he said gravely, “contact the hospital and have them send a tetanus shot immediately. This isn’t something to overlook.”

Kristopher, barely looking up, waved dismissively. “It’s not like I got bitten by some rabid animal. Some alcohol will do the job.”

The doctor straightened, his expression firm. “Mr. Norris, human bites are actually more prone to infection than animal bites. The bacteria in human mouths are dangerous. Ignoring this could lead to complications.”

Oliver nodded in agreement, already dialing the hospital. As he relayed the doctor’s request, the latter began cleaning the wound. “Mr.

“Norris, this might sting a little,” the doctor warned, pouring alcohol over the torn skin.

Kristopher leaned back, his head tipping against the chair, and closed his eyes. The sharp sting of the alcohol radiated up his arm, a cold, biting pain that made his fingers twitch involuntarily. It was nothing he couldn’t handle—but as the burn sank in, his thoughts drifted elsewhere. Carrie flashed in his mind. Bloodied. Broken. Her fragile frame cradled in his arms.

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