From Neglected Wife to CEO’s Obsession novel Chapter 93

Kailynn’s voice was a constant buzz in Remy’s ear, full of stories about her latest gym-obsessed crush. But while Kailynn chattered on, Remy’s eyes kept wandering across the bar, sneaking glances at the guys walking by and wondering what real abs actually looked like. Not the kind you see online—real ones. The ones Kailynn kept calling “washboard abs.”

Remy herself was skinny—like, really skinny. She didn’t have any fat, but she didn’t have any muscle either. Just long limbs and not a single ab in sight. Guys with actual abs? She’d only seen those on her phone screen, never in person.

Even through her tipsy haze, Remy had enough sense left to realize she’d had one drink too many. Time to pee and go home, she decided, before anything embarrassing happened.

“I’ll go with you if you want,” Kailynn teased, raising her eyebrows. “You’re way too pretty to wander around drunk in a place like this. One hungry wolf and you’ll be dinner.”

The alcohol made Remy braver—and a little stubborn. She straightened up, trying her best to look steady, and shook her head. “Nah, I’m good. I’ve got this,” she said, waving Kailynn off.

It took a minute and a lot of squinting, but Remy finally found the ladies’ room, marked by a tiny dress on the door. She handled her business, washed her hands, and stepped back out—only to freeze.

There was a wall in front of her. Not a normal wall, though. It was tall, solid black, and sort of smelled like pine needles and cold air. Weird.

Even weirder, the “wall” seemed to move wherever she tried to go, cutting her off every time. No matter which way she turned, it blocked her path. Was this what people meant by a “ghost wall”? Was she actually that drunk?

“Move, you stupid wall, I want to go home,” Remy grumbled, reaching out to push it aside.

Her hand landed on something hard. Not like drywall—more like… a washboard? She pressed her palm against it and felt ridges. Sharp, chiseled ridges. Holy crap, Kailynn wasn’t exaggerating. This was a real set of abs. Nineteen, built like a statue, hard as steel—just like she’d described.

Remy ran her hand over them, counting the lines. One, two, three… all the way to eight. These were better than any washboard she’d ever seen. She blinked, then rubbed her eyes, trying to focus. A face slowly came into view, fuzzy and shifting, features all mixed up.

Well, if she couldn’t see, maybe she could get a better look up close. She leaned in, only for hot breath to hit her face. This “wall” was alive—and definitely not a wall.

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