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CHAPTER TWO-HUNDRED AND SIX

Author: Authoresstreasure
last update Last Updated: 2025-12-24 00:49:50

CLARISSA.

The city felt smaller now, though it hadn’t changed. The streets, the towering glass facades, and the relentless hum of traffic all seemed to pulse with a quieter rhythm, a rhythm that existed only because the chaos of the past weeks had been contained, at least in public.

I sat near the front of the lobby, the polished marble beneath my hands cold and firm, trying to reconcile the absurdity of the moment. Cameras flashed incessantly, journalists whispered into microphones, and a dozen screens broadcast live feeds of the press conference across the city. Bruce stood at the podium like a figure carved from charisma itself, commanding the room with a fluid confidence that made me both admire and question him.

Devan’s hand rested lightly on my back, grounding me. I felt the reassurance radiating from him, a silent anchor in a world that suddenly seemed performative, artificial, and dangerous all at once. He leaned slightly forward, following Bruce’s words with that meticulous a
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  • Divorced: Ex-wife Heiress Strikes Back   CHAPTER TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN

    CLARISSA.The doorbell rang once, soft, polite, and almost hesitant. I was in the sitting room, hands folded over my stomach, trying to read the same paragraph for the fifth time without absorbing a single word. Devan was on a call upstairs, his voice low and clipped, the sound of it carrying faintly through the ceiling like a warning hum. The house had settled into that uneasy quiet that comes when everyone is braced for something they can’t yet name.I wasn’t expecting anyone.When I opened the door, Isabella stood on the threshold, the sunlight at her back, her shadow stretching into the foyer like something tentative and unsure of its welcome.She looked… different. She didn’t look like her usual polished self. There was no armor of sarcasm or carefully arranged chaos. Her hair was pulled back loosely, her clothes practical, her face drawn in a way that spoke of long nights and longer thoughts. She held herself still, as if any sudden movement might send me slamming the door in he

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

    DEVAN.The mansion no longer felt like a home. It felt like a perimeter. I noticed it the first morning after the rooftop incident, standing barefoot on marble that used to gleam with quiet luxury and now felt cold, exposed. The ceilings were too high, the windows too wide, every entrance too generous. What once read as elegance now looked like vulnerability disguised as wealth.Security had become my watchword.By noon, half the house had been rewired. Motion sensors layered over motion sensors. Cameras stitched into corners that architecture pretended didn’t exist. Blind spots eliminated, then re-eliminated, because I didn’t trust the first pass, or the second. If Bruce was watching, I wanted him to choke on redundancy.Clarissa hated it. She didn’t say it outright, but I could feel it in the way her shoulders tensed when another technician walked past, or when the quiet was broken by the soft chirp of a system recalibrating. She carried life inside her now, and the world had respon

  • 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

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