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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Author: Authoresstreasure
last update Last Updated: 2025-09-05 02:37:21

ISABELLA.

More than a week had passed since I returned to LA from Texas where I’d gone to meet up with Bruce to come up with a plan. I’d not found the perfect time to strike yet as Clarissa had spent most of her days working at our father’s company and returning very late at night — hours after our father would have returned home from work. On the occasions when I asked him why he left her behind at the office, his response was short and simple: “She says she’ll be home later”, and on the days I was to see her around, she was either hurrying out of the house for the office or on some long phone call with God-knows-who.

I waited patiently and kept bidding my time till the perfect opportunity came two weekends later. I had observed that Clarissa had taken a liking to early morning breakfast especially on weekends, and so on this day, I had come down and had gone into the kitchen at the exact same time I knew the chef would be having it prepared for her.

“Good morning, ma'am,” the chef
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  • Divorced: Ex-wife Heiress Strikes Back   CHAPTER TWO-HUNDRED AND TWELVE

    ISABELLA.The sand was warm enough to make my muscles forget themselves. That was the point of this place, this narrow crescent of beach hidden between limestone cliffs, reachable only by a footpath that tourists never bothered to finish. The water was impossibly clear, the kind of blue that felt artificial, like someone had adjusted the saturation of reality. I had been here for nearly two weeks, long enough for the sound of waves to start replacing the static that usually lived in my head.I lay back on the towel, eyes closed, letting the sun press against my skin. For the first time in months, no one was watching me. No cameras humming behind walls. No algorithms whispering predictions about my next move. No men offering power wrapped in inevitability.I had almost convinced myself I was done running.Almost.The phone buzzed beside my hip, sharp and wrong against the soft rhythm of the sea. I ignored it at first, letting it buzz itself into sil

  • Divorced: Ex-wife Heiress Strikes Back   CHAPTER TWO-HUNDRED AND ELEVEN

    BRUCE.I didn’t run. Running was for people who are afraid of being caught. I moved through the night the way I always did: unhurried, deliberate, invisible to anyone who didn’t know how to look. The mansion receded behind me in soft pools of light and music, laughter floating up like nothing had happened at all. That was the beauty of it. Chaos, when done properly, never announces itself.My pulse was still elevated though, not by panic but by adrenaline. The clean, electric kind that hums just beneath the skin when something goes exactly as designed.Clarissa’s scream replayed in my mind, not loudly, not obsessively, just once, like a brushstroke completing a painting. The way her fingers had clawed at the ledge. The way her body had gone rigid with terror. The split second where she understood, with absolute clarity, that all her careful planning, all her alliances, all her illusions of safety meant nothing at all.That moment had bee

  • Divorced: Ex-wife Heiress Strikes Back   CHAPTER TWO-HUNDRED AND TEN

    DEVAN.The party downstairs didn’t slow when Clarissa failed to come back, and that was the first thing that set my nerves on edge: the way laughter kept rising, glasses clinking, voices drifting lazily through the halls as if nothing in the world had shifted. As if the house itself hadn’t noticed that something vital had just stepped out of alignment.At first, I told myself she just needed air. Clarissa had been glowing all evening, but there had been a tightness beneath it, something restless behind her smile. A rooftop conversation with Bruce wouldn’t be unexpected. Unwelcome, yes, but not unthinkable.Five minutes passed. Then ten. The space beside me stayed empty.

  • Divorced: Ex-wife Heiress Strikes Back   CHAPTER TWO-HUNDRED AND NINE

    CLARISSA.The rooftop was colder than I had expected, the night air sharp and biting against the flushed warmth of the celebration I had just left behind. My heels clicked against the concrete, echoing too loudly across the empty expanse. The laughter and joy of the evening felt impossibly distant, a fragile memory that had no place here.I moved cautiously, every step measured, scanning the rooftop for Bruce. My stomach tightened, a premonition I tried to shake off, replaced instead by the knot of apprehension I felt every time I thought of him. The door behind me had closed with a creak that seemed deafening in the silence, leaving me alone with only the wind and my pulse as company.The moonlight painted long, distorted shadows across the surface. They stretched and twisted in ways that made the rooftop feel larger, more hostile. Every dark corner seemed to harbor danger, every flicker of light from below a reminder of how exposed I was.Then it happen

  • Divorced: Ex-wife Heiress Strikes Back   CHAPTER TWO-HUNDRED AND EIGHT

    CLARISSA.Weeks had passed since the chaos of the Cloak, and life had begun to settle into a rhythm I almost didn’t recognize as my own. The company hummed with efficiency, my team thriving under a leadership I never thought I would embrace with such confidence. Bruce and Devan’s public partnership had stabilized the business, drawing accolades and cautious admiration alike, their image carefully curated and entirely believable. And yet, beneath the surface of that corporate calm, I felt something shift in me, something far more intimate and enduring.The news hit me on a quiet Tuesday morning. I was alone in my office, reviewing quarterly reports, when the words on the screen seemed to shimmer and warp into something impossible, a message from my doctor: I was pregnant again. The room held its breath with me, the air suddenly thick and electric. My hands hovered over the keyboard, trembling, as a wave of disbelief gave way to an almost unbearable joy.

  • Divorced: Ex-wife Heiress Strikes Back   CHAPTER TWO-HUNDRED AND SEVEN

    CLARISSA.The house smelled faintly of antiseptic and old wood, a strange mixture that reminded me of hospitals and home at the same time. Outside, the city thrummed quietly, indifferent to the chaos that had unfolded over the last few days. Inside, the quiet was deliberate, almost protective, a fragile bubble that felt both safe and unbearably temporary.I lay against Devan, his arms wrapped around me in a hold that spoke more than words ever could. His chest rose and fell against my back, steady and warm, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, I allowed myself to simply breathe. The adrenaline that had kept me sharp, tense, alive, finally began to ease off, leaving behind a raw ache I hadn’t realized I was carrying.Devan pulled back slightly, just enough that I could see the lines of worry etched into his face. “Clarissa…” he murmured, voice low, hesitant. His dark eyes searched mine, as though trying to read the exact shape of my soul. “I… I should’ve been there sooner. I

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