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Chapter Fifty Seven
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2025-07-15 23:43:00Camilla’s POV
The next morning, the calm of my day off was quickly replaced by the usual thrum of office life. I arrived work a little after 9 a.m., with Zane dropped off at school and my laptop already buzzing with unread emails. I took the elevator straight up to the executive floor and passed by Stacy’s desk without acknowledging her presence. I felt her eyes follow me, her stare sharp and assessing, but I didn’t flinch. She was still trying to put the puzzle pieces together. Let her try. When I stepped into my office, I was pleasantly surprised to find fresh lilies placed in a glass vase on my desk. A small card was tucked beneath the stem. “You said you liked these once. Thought I’d remind you of that. — R.” My heart stuttered. The handwriting was elegant and deliberate. A perfect match for the man who once whispered he would memorize every piece of
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Dear Ex-wife, You're More Than A Substitute Chapter Fifty Eight
Aside the location Richard sent, the driveway curved just like I remembered it. The tall pines swayed gently in the breeze, casting shadows across the manicured lawn as I pulled up to the front of the house I used to call home. But I wasn’t here to walk down memory lane, I was here to remind myself why I left it behind. The lights inside glowed like a beacon of the life I once imagined. The life I was robbed of. As I stepped out of the car, my heels tapped against the familiar stone pavement. I inhaled sharply, forcing down the lump rising in my throat. “Get a grip, Camilla,” I muttered under my breath. “This isn’t your home anymore. This is just another battlefield.” Before I could reach the door, it opened... almost like it had been watching, waiting. “Good evening, ma’am,” said the housekeeper. Lydia. The moment our eyes met, her face paled. Her lips trembled. She knew. The sa
Dear Ex-wife, You're More Than A Substitute Chapter Fifty Seven
Camilla’s POV The next morning, the calm of my day off was quickly replaced by the usual thrum of office life. I arrived work a little after 9 a.m., with Zane dropped off at school and my laptop already buzzing with unread emails. I took the elevator straight up to the executive floor and passed by Stacy’s desk without acknowledging her presence. I felt her eyes follow me, her stare sharp and assessing, but I didn’t flinch. She was still trying to put the puzzle pieces together. Let her try. When I stepped into my office, I was pleasantly surprised to find fresh lilies placed in a glass vase on my desk. A small card was tucked beneath the stem. “You said you liked these once. Thought I’d remind you of that. — R.” My heart stuttered. The handwriting was elegant and deliberate. A perfect match for the man who once whispered he would memorize every piece of
Dear Ex-wife, You're More Than A Substitute Chapter Fifty Six
Camilla’s POVI wrapped the silk robe tighter around me as I stepped out into the quiet living room, my bare feet brushing against the soft rug beneath me. The scent of fresh jasmine floated through the open window, dancing with the early afternoon breeze. I hadn’t set an alarm. No emails. No morning traffic. Just a day to breathe.A day off work.Christine had taken Zane to the park for a little while he’d been begging to try his new rollerblades and I’d promised not to check emails or draft building layouts for at least one full day. It wasn’t easy; my fingers kept twitching toward my tablet. But I reminded myself I’d earned this.We’d earned this.I was halfway through a cup of chamomile tea, curled up on the couch, when the front door clicked open.Only one person had the key to walk in unannounced.“Caleb,” I called out, straightening a little and tucking my legs under me.“Hey,” his voice floated in from t
Dear Ex-wife, You're More Than A Substitute Chapter Fifty Five
Stacy’s POVI’d driven for two hours straight without stopping… my heels on the gas pedal, my mind a maze of questions I couldn’t let go of. Something about Camilla Jones felt off. Too poised. Too perfect. Too… familiar.I’d seen her with Richard too many times now. The way he looked at her. The way she seemed to carry pieces of a ghost we all thought was buried.Tessa.No. I reminded myself, Tessa is dead. I made sure of it.But there’s something about the eyes, the way she smiles… polished, professional, but never quite empty. And if there’s even the smallest chance that woman is still breathing, then I need to know what she’s planning.Which brought me here, to a small house tucked away in the quieter part of the city. No cameras, no busybodies. Just peeling paint on wooden walls and the occasional dog barking in the distance.I smoothed out the front of my blouse and stepped out of the car, clicking the door shut behind me with intention. The concrete path leading up to the porch
Dear Ex-wife, You're More Than A Substitute Chapter Fifty Four
Stacy’s POV I hated the way her name slid off his tongue. Camilla. He said it so casually, like she meant everything, just another architect working on his project. But I could hear the difference. The way his voice softened around her. The way his eyes lit up when she walked into the room. I wasn’t stupid. I’d known Richard long enough to recognize the signs. The quiet interest. The way he lingered around her office. The small smiles he thought no one noticed. And worst of all? She didn’t even try. Camilla Jones waltzed into our world with her tidy little resume and her too perfect curls, like she owned the place. All grace and calm confidence, the kind that made other women shrink in comparison. She didn’t flirt. She didn’t pander. She didn’t need to. Somehow, she still managed to hold his attention without lifting a finger. And he… he kept drifting closer. I saw it in the little things. How he let her son come to work. How he defended her when I pointed it out. How he start
Dear Ex-wife, You're More Than A Substitute Chapter Fifty Three
Camilla’s POV The door clicked softly behind Richard as he stepped out, his usual scent woodsy, expensive, frustratingly familiar still hanging faintly in the air. The space grew quiet again, except for the low hum of the AC and the sound of Zane’s soft breathing from the sofa nearby. He had dozed off after lunch, his tiny fingers still clutching the corner of the sketchbook we’d been playing with earlier. I turned back to my desk, intending to organize my design files for VanderTech, but then I noticed it on the laptop. He had been sitting there moments ago, walking me through some architectural reference documents. I assumed he’d shut it. But he hadn’t. The screen was still on. His profile logged in. A confidential folder still open on the screen. He must’ve thought he’d logged out. I didn’t touch it. Not immediately. I just stared at the screen, at the highlighted document a
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