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作者: Tamara Knox
last update 公開日: 2026-08-18 02:46:54

MAXWELL

The man I remember standing inside a Syndicate warehouse, a man whose street name makes grown men lose control of their bladder, and now apparently a respectable corporate consultant.

"Go on."

"For Ariana Cox, the information on her is straightforward." I wait. "Former wife. Current mother of twins. Businesswoman. Owner of the Wolves. Bindy family connections. Corporate interests. Public appearances."

"Anything that links her with Grant?"

"Nothing direct."

"Nothing?"

"Not in the record
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  • After the Divorce, My Ex Husband Came Crawling Back   234

    MAXWELLI watch the whole thing from across the hall, a glass in my hand, and file it away the same way I've filed every other piece of my upended life these past months.Ariana. Head of the Concord Trust. Head, as far as anyone in that room who actually understands what that means is concerned, of the entire Syndicate structure running beneath Bridge Country.The mother of my children now sits above every single person in this room, including the men I’ve been quietly informing on for the better part of a year.I think about Reeves immediately, the way I think about her every time something lands in my lap that feels significant enough to matter. This would matter. This would matter more than anything I've handed her so far, more than contractor names or shell company structures or any of the small, careful pieces I've been passing across that café table for months.I don't know yet if I can give her this one.I drink instead, something expensive and aged that should taste like somet

  • After the Divorce, My Ex Husband Came Crawling Back   233

    ARIANAThe silence changes texture immediately, no longer simply respectful, something sharper underneath it now, calculating."After tonight, the Bindy seat passes to my successor." Her eyes move to me, and every head at that table turns with them. "Ariana."For a moment, nobody speaks at all.Then the murmurs start, low, controlled, the kind of disapproval that's learned to keep itself quiet in rooms like this one. A few hands come together in something that might generously be called applause. Most don't move at all."She's untested," someone says, not quite quiet enough."She's blood," Eleanor says, before anyone else can pick up the thread. "And she's spent the better part of a year proving herself in rooms exactly like this one, to people in this room specifically. If anyone has an objection, I'd suggest voicing it now." She lets that sit, letting her gaze travel slowly around the table. "Or forever hold your silence on the matter."Nobody voices anything.I sit very still throu

  • After the Divorce, My Ex Husband Came Crawling Back   232

    ARIANAThe gown arrives two days before the event, no note attached, nothing except Mason's handwriting on the box, wear this, trust me, which by now is less a request than a formality between us.It's black, floor-length, cut close enough to the body that it leaves nothing to interpretation, a high slit running nearly to my hip on one side. When I slide my hand along the inside of the slit, I find the seam, reinforced, deliberate, built specifically to hold a holster flush against my thigh without printing through the fabric.The gold gun fits into it perfectly. I've practiced drawing it three times in the mirror before I stop practicing and simply trust my hands remember what Mason spent a month teaching them.Hair, jewelry, heels, a small clutch barely large enough for a phone, all of it arrives with the dress, all of it matching with the kind of precision that tells me someone thought about every inch of how I'd look walking into that room tonight. By the time I'm finished dress

  • After the Divorce, My Ex Husband Came Crawling Back   231

    ARIANABy the time we're back aboveground and walking toward the dining room that evening, the ringing in my ears has settled into something fainter, background noise I have to consciously listen for to notice at all.Eleanor joins us for dinner, settling into her usual seat with the twins already chattering somewhere down the table, Mrs. P keeping gentle order over mashed peas and an increasingly heated argument about whose turn it is with the good spoon."Grace's started training," Mason tells her, quiet enough that it doesn't carry past our end of the table.Eleanor's eyes move to me, assessing, the way they assess everything. "Good. Will she be ready, to some degree, by the day of the handover?""Why does gun training factor into the handover at all?" I ask, keeping my own voice low, Thea's laughter covering most of it from the rest of the room."Boundaries get tested," Mason says simply, buttering a piece of bread like we're discussing something as ordinary as the weather. "You'l

  • After the Divorce, My Ex Husband Came Crawling Back   230

    ARIANAThe coldness in his eyes is not cruel exactly, it’s just entirely without the warmth he usually keeps wrapped around every word he gives me.I don't look away, though something in me wants to."Syndicate business isn't Cox business," he says. "It isn't the Wolves. Half the men and women who smile at you in Eleanor's drawing room have already tested you in small ways you probably haven't noticed. You need to be able to protect yourself. And what's yours.""Meaning.""The twins."Something sharpens inside me instantly, a mother's attention locking onto a threat the way nothing else quite manages to, faster and sharper than fear for myself ever could. Mason sees it happen and something in his expression eases slightly, like he expected exactly that reaction and is quietly pleased it arrived right on schedule."I know you intend to let me handle the Syndicate side of things once this is yours," he says, gentler now, the coldness receding back under whatever warmth he usually wears

  • After the Divorce, My Ex Husband Came Crawling Back   229

    ARIANAMason's knock comes earlier than usual, pulling me out of sleep before the sun's fully committed to the sky."Dress warm," he says when I open the door, still blinking against the light. "Comfortable shoes.""What's this about?""You'll see."I don't argue, mostly because I've learned by now that arguing with Mason before coffee is a losing proposition. I dress quickly, something plain and practical, and follow him down through the estate, past wings I've walked a dozen times, until he stops at a section of wall near the old wine cellar that I've genuinely never once questioned.He presses something I don't see clearly, and a section of paneling slides open onto a staircase descending into the dark."There's a part of this estate," he says, "that very few people ever learn exists."We go down, and the air changes almost immediately. It becomes cooler and drier, carrying a faint mineral smell I can't place. The staircase gives way to a long corridor lined with doors, some open

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