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Chapter 49: The Thief in the Light
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2026-01-09 06:09:41
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Dear Ex-husband; You'll beg for me Chapter 50: The Silent Delivery
(Elara's POV)The empty flask sat on my dresser. For two days, it was a question mark. Peter’s words were a trap I’d already sprung: You will get your answer. And I will know when you get it.He didn’t own the truth. He was a driver. But he had intercepted it, and that fact was a cold stone in my gut. He knew I’d acted. The waiting was the first move in a game whose rules I was only just learning.On the third morning, the answer came.Peter entered with the tea tray. He set it down with his usual, quiet efficiency. Then, he did something he never did. He hesitated.“A parcel arrived for you at the service entrance, Mrs. Truman,” he said, his voice perfectly respectful. “It was marked ‘Personal Medical.’ I took the liberty of bringing it up with your tray.” He produced the slim, beige envelope from his jacket pocket. He held it out, not like a challenge, but like a servant delivering the mail.
Dear Ex-husband; You'll beg for me Chapter 49: The Thief in the Light
(Elara's POV)Peter owned my secret now. I had to be perfect. I followed Charles's script.I watched. I listened. I said nothing.I saw Peter watching Lily. He was always near when she worked. If she cleaned the hall, he was in the room, fixing a lamp. If she was in the kitchen, he was getting a glass of water. He was watching her as closely as I was.Why?Two days after the note, Lily came to me. It was morning. She brought my breakfast tray. Her wrist was wrapped. Her eyes were red from crying.She put the tray down. She did not leave."Mrs. Truman," she whispered. "I need to talk to you."My heart beat faster. "What is it, Lily?"She twisted her apron. "I'm scared." A tear fell. "I didn't slip on the stairs. Someone pushed me."I went very still. "Who?""I don't know. It was from behind. But... before I fell, I heard a voice. It said, 'Stop listening at doors.'"She had been at the study door. She admitted it.
Dear Ex-husband; You'll beg for me Chapter 48: The Trap
(Elara's POV)The house was a cage. A pretty, quiet cage. Charles said I was safe here. He said my job was to watch. To listen. My main target was Peter, the driver. He was suspect number one.But Charles also told me to watch everyone. So I did.I watched Peter. He moved through the house like a ghost. Silent. Seeing everything. He brought me tea. He looked at me with polite eyes. But I remembered his warning in the garage. The flame can jump back to the one who lit it. I watched his hands. Were they the hands that poisoned my husband?I also watched Lily.Lily was the young maid. She was sweet. She would give me an extra cookie. She would smile at me with sad eyes. She asked about Silas. She seemed kind.But I watched her. I saw things.I saw her look at the door to Silas's private study. She looked at it a lot. I saw her clean the hall outside that door every day. I saw her jump when I caught her there. Once, I sa
Dear Ex-husband; You'll beg for me Chapter 47: The House of Matches
(Elara's POV)The silence in the town car was not an absence of sound, but a substance. It filled the space between Charles and me, thick and cold as poured cement. He did not look at me. His gaze was fixed on the rain-streaked window, his reflection a pale, severe mask against the night. The glow of his phone illuminated the sharp planes of his face. On the screen, the blog’s headline burned: Loyal Wife or James Winthrop Pawn?He had not uttered a word since the supply closet. The sentence had been passed in that crushing grip on my elbow, in the glacial fury of his eyes. Explanation was now irrelevant. Damage was all that mattered.“You will remain at the house,” his voice sliced the silence as the iron gates of the Truman estate swung open. The mansion loomed ahead, its many windows dark, a mausoleum of wealth. “You are clinically exhausted. The grief, the pressure, it has led to catastrophic errors in ju
Dear Ex-husband; You'll beg for me Chapter 46: The Board and the Knife
(Elara's POV)The lights were a physical assault. They burned away the shadows of the ICU waiting room, the private grief, and left everything raw and exposed. A small podium had been set up at the end of the corridor, a wall of microphones sprouting from it like metallic fungi. Beyond the cordon of hospital security and Charles’s own men, a pack of journalists shifted, their cameras raised like weapons.I stood just out of sight, my hands ice-cold. A makeup artist, summoned by Charles, had dabbed away the worst of my pallor, but nothing could fill the hollows under my eyes. The suit they’d brought was too perfect, a armor of navy wool.Charles was a statue beside me. “Remember,” he said, his voice for my ears only. “Grief. Loyalty. Defiance. In that order. Then the warning. Look at the lens, not the people.”I didn’t nod. I was afraid if I moved, I would shatter.A press aide murmured something, and Charles gave a single, sharp nod. He stepped into the light first, a wave of question
Dear Ex-husband; You'll beg for me Chapter 45: The Lever
(Elara's POV)The car was a silent cage. Peter’s eyes found mine in the rearview mirror every few minutes, a mechanical check in. I kept my face turned to the window, my hand a tight fist around the black phone in my coat pocket. It felt alive, like a venomous insect trying to burrow into my skin. The smell of James’s cologne had seeped into my clothes, a sweet, cloying lie over the sterile hospital smell I couldn’t shake.He dropped me at the service entrance. “I’ll be close by, Mrs. Truman,” he said, holding the door. His voice was the same respectful tone he’d always used. It made my teeth ache.The ICU waiting area wasn’t the same. Charles had stamped it with his presence. A laptop glowed on a side table, wires snaking to the floor. A woman I didn’t know, a lawyer with a pinched, urgent face, was speaking to him in a low hiss. Eleanor slept in a chair, a hospital blanket pulled to her chin, her face soft and collaps
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