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Chapter Sixty

Author: Tee Growrich
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-07-18 23:50:00
The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time I pulled into the office parking lot. It was past 10 a.m. unlike me. I rarely ever came in this late, but the events of last night had left my mind spinning. I had barely slept, haunted by the stinging echo of Stacy’s voice.

Don’t like the taste? Or are you allergic to it, Tessa?

She’d said my name like it was a loaded gun, aiming straight for the part of me I’d spent years burying beneath a new name, a new city, and a carefully curated life. Even now, the thought of her watching me as I drank that juice, the faint twitch of satisfaction in her smile… it made my chest tighten.

I stepped into the building, shook off the umbrella, and walked briskly toward my office. Most of the staff I passed gave me polite nods or warm good mornings. But something felt… off.

Like air thick with static before a storm.

When I turned down the hall leading to my office, I slowed. The door was slightly ajar.

Odd.

I frowned. I never left it like that
Tee Growrich

Whew… what a chapter, right? This story has taken us through pain, betrayal, survival, and revenge… but we’re only just getting started. Camilla’s world is layered with secrets… every choice she makes is a step closer to either justice… or destruction. If you’ve made it this far, I want to say THANK YOU for reading. Truly. Your support keeps this story breathing, and your reactions help me pour even more emotion into every chapter. So please, take a second to leave a comment. I want to know what you’re feeling, who you’re rooting for, who made you scream, or gasp. Your thoughts mean everything to me. And if the story has gripped your heart in any way, don’t forget to leave a review. It helps more readers find their way here. With love and plot twists, [Tee Growrich]

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  • Dear Ex-wife, You're More Than A Substitute   Chapter Sixty Two

    Camilla’s POV The corridors of Anderson Global always had this sterile quiet around noon. Most of the staff were either at lunch or hidden behind frosted glass panels. I preferred it that way… it meant less chit-chat, less curious eyes. I clutched the thin manila folder in my hand… a revised schematic update for project’s upper level eco-balcony integration. It wasn’t urgent, but Richard had asked me to bring it up once it was ready, and I had just finalized it. I figured I’d get it over with before grabbing a late lunch. I adjusted my blazer and nudged his office door open with a soft knock. “Mr. Anderson—” I stopped. Richard was standing behind his desk, one hand gripping the edge, the other fisted in his hair like he was seconds away from ripping it out. His back was half-turned toward me, but I could see his knuckles pale and

  • Dear Ex-wife, You're More Than A Substitute   Chapter Sixty One

    Richard’s POV It was already past noon when I finally pulled myself together and drove to the office. Rain pelted the windshield as I sat at a red light, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other tapped restlessly on my thigh. I hadn’t slept well. My mind had been a whirlwind of Camilla’s voice, the flash of fire in her eyes, the way she’d looked at me before storming out the night before. I hadn’t been able to breathe right since. She didn’t just walk out of my house, she walked out of whatever fragile thing was building between us. It hurt more than I was willing to admit. And now, heading into work, I wasn’t sure how to face her. Would she even look at me? Would she pretend like none of it happened? I couldn’t blame her if she did. By the time I stepped into the building, I barely acknowledged the greetings I received. I was soaked, unshaven, and just barely holding it together. On the surface, I was the CEO. The boss. But inside… everything felt like it was fray

  • Dear Ex-wife, You're More Than A Substitute   Chapter Sixty

    The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time I pulled into the office parking lot. It was past 10 a.m. unlike me. I rarely ever came in this late, but the events of last night had left my mind spinning. I had barely slept, haunted by the stinging echo of Stacy’s voice. Don’t like the taste? Or are you allergic to it, Tessa? She’d said my name like it was a loaded gun, aiming straight for the part of me I’d spent years burying beneath a new name, a new city, and a carefully curated life. Even now, the thought of her watching me as I drank that juice, the faint twitch of satisfaction in her smile… it made my chest tighten. I stepped into the building, shook off the umbrella, and walked briskly toward my office. Most of the staff I passed gave me polite nods or warm good mornings. But something felt… off. Like air thick with static before a storm. When I turned down the hall leading to my office, I slowed. The door was slightly ajar. Odd. I frowned. I never left it like that

  • Dear Ex-wife, You're More Than A Substitute   Chapter Fifty Nine

    After dinner at Richard’s house…I drove in silence, letting the city blur around me as if the night could wash away the burning in my throat. The moment I closed the car door behind me outside Richard’s home, I told myself not to fall apart. Not yet. I could still taste the mango juice. That acidic sweetness clung to my tongue like a warning. It scratched down my throat, curled in my chest like smoke. My body didn’t erupt into a full blown allergic reaction, not because it didn’t try but because I’d prepared. I always prepare. Stacy may think she’s smart, but she’s also obvious. From the moment Caleb told me about her visit to my stepmother’s house, I knew she was digging. That wasn’t curiosity, that was war. And tonight? That was her first strike. A glass of mango juice. So elegant. So simple. So quietly vicious. And yet… it didn’t catch me off guard. Not fully. I’d ta

  • 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

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