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110: Home, Finally
Last Updated:
2026-01-29 21:31:55
Khadijah Bunza We’ve come to the end of Cale and Abbie’s story. Thank you so much for staying with them. If you enjoyed their journey, please don’t forget to leave a thumbs-up, a comment, a gem, and your support, it truly means the world to me. The song I listened to the most while writing their story is “Who I Am” by Alan Walker, Putri Ariani, and Peder Elias. Thank you for reading and supporting my work.
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His Forgotten Love Returns: The Return of the Ex-wife 119: Fear of Losing You
* SLADE’S POINT OF VIEW *“I just don't know what to do anymore. I’ve always been able to find a solution for every crisis, but this… I’m at a loss,” I said, leaning my elbows on the dining table as I faced Cale.“Maybe you should just tell Rachel what’s going on. She’s more understanding than you think,” Cale countered. “I mean, look at it this way — you haven’t even seen Aurelia since high school. It’s not like you’re rekindling a flame.”I let out a long, weary sigh.Aurelia and I had that classic high-school-sweetheart relationship.She was the golden girl — the crush I spent months working up the courage to speak to. I used to rehearse my lines in the mirror, my heart racing every time she walked past my locker.When she finally said yes to a date, it felt like my entire world had finally clicked into place.We were inseparable; we even planned our entire futures around going to the same university. I had saved every cent of my allowance just to help pay for her tuition so we wo
His Forgotten Love Returns: The Return of the Ex-wife 118: The Life That Almost Was
* RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW *Abbie and I decided to duck into a cozy coffee shop nestled right next to the yoga center. She had been attending Postnatal Flow classes lately, determined to regain her strength and tone. Watching her move through the sun-drenched studio earlier, I thought she was being far too hard on herself; she looked incredible, with barely a trace of a post-pregnancy tummy, moving with a grace most people would crave.We took our seats near the window, the shop buzzing with that relaxed, lazy Saturday-morning energy.“So, how’s our little princess doing today?” I asked, taking a grateful sip of my latte.“She’s wonderful, actually,” Abbie chuckled, her face lighting up. “She finally slept through the night, which means I actually feel like a human being today. Though she has been misbehaving lately…” Suddenly, her gaze shifted toward the counter, her expression sharpening with recognition. “Wait… I think I know that woman.”“Who?”I turned in my seat and spotted a tal
His Forgotten Love Returns: The Return of the Ex-wife 117: Leaving Her Behind
* RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW *I remained in the island chair long after Beatrice had swept out, the silence of the kitchen feeling louder than her insults. Her words cut deep, but they also sparked a flicker of defiance. If she was a pillar, then so was I. I was the foundation for my children and the anchor for Slade, I had every right to stand my ground for the future Jacob wanted for us. Still, the weight of the conflict pressed heavily against my chest.I just wanted Slade to come back. I needed to breathe air that wasn’t tainted by the suffocating tension of this mansion.Finn and Fiona had already come back inside, covered in the happy grime of play, and Emilia had taken them for a bath.As soon as they were dressed, I planned to call Slade and tell him we were leaving — whether he was finished or not. This house was closing in on me, every creak of the floorboards felt like Beatrice’s footsteps coming to start another war.Then I heard the familiar, heavy rhythm of shoes on marbl
His Forgotten Love Returns: The Return of the Ex-wife 116: What Remains Unsaid
* SLADE’S POINT OF VIEW *“Boss… what do you think about the Hamptons project? Are we moving forward with the acquisition?” Rebecca asked from the front seat.I was still getting used to her presence; I missed having Cale as my P.A. He knew my moods, my unspoken cues, and exactly when to push or pull back.“Yes… go through with it, and make sure to BCC Rachel on every email,” I said, looking out the window.Simon pulled the car to a smooth stop in front of a secluded, high-end Italian restaurant. It was the kind of place tucked away behind ivy-covered walls, known more for its discretion than its menu.“Do you want me to come in with you?” Rebecca asked as Simon climbed out to open my door.“You know you’re not supposed to do that,” I said firmly.I stepped out of the car, adjusting my suit jacket, and walked into the quiet dimness of the restaurant.My eyes roamed the room until I spotted her. She was sitting at a corner table in the very back — private, shadowed, and perfect for a m
His Forgotten Love Returns: The Return of the Ex-wife 115: The Cost of Being Accepted
* RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW *I was still in a state of shock, my mind reeling as I tried to process the weight of the papers in my hand. Jacob—a man who once seemed like an immovable fortress of coldness—had actually opened his heart in the end.Before he died, he had asked for my forgiveness, even for that bitter first encounter we had at the hospital.He had shown such genuine affection for the children in those final months, a soft side of him that only surfaced when the clutches of his illness retreated.And now, this.I wasn’t happy about the money or the properties themselves; it was the validation they represented. He had truly accepted me as a Pierce. But as I felt that warmth, a cold shiver followed: Beatrice. That woman would never see me as anything but an intruder. No matter how many olive branches I extended or how well I raised her grandchildren, she would always see me as a stain on her family’s legacy.“Rachel… is there anything I can do for you?” Emilia’s voice cut thr
His Forgotten Love Returns: The Return of the Ex-wife 114: The Will of a Pierce
* SLADE’S POINT OF VIEW *It had been a week since Jacob was laid to rest, and the silence of the mansion had been replaced by the suffocating tension of legalities. The lawyer called us today for the official reading of the will. We sat in the grand living room — a place that once felt like a kingdom when I was a child, but now resembled a cold museum of missed opportunities. I remembered playing on these rugs, always looking over my shoulder for a father who was too busy building an empire to notice his son.Mr. Tennessee, the family attorney, stood and adjusted his glasses. He handed each of us a thick packet of documents, including one for Rachel, who sat stiffly beside me.We exchanged a quick, uncertain look.“You will each find a detailed breakdown of the properties and the percentages of the liquid assets you are entitled to,” Mr. Tennessee began. “Rachel, you and the children have been granted a significant percentage of several properties. Slade, your shares are listed unde
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