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CHAPTER ELEVEN

Author: Gabby Ajana
last update Last Updated: 2025-10-09 22:33:50

The invitation arrived on a Tuesday morning like a declaration of war disguised as courtesy. Angela stared at the heavy cream envelope, its embossed letterhead catching the morning light that streamed through her father's kitchen window. The annual Industry Excellence Gala—where careers were made and destroyed over champagne and calculated whispers, where the line between networking and warfare blurred until they became indistinguishable.

"You have to go," Clara said, looking up from her secure laptop where she managed Angela's growing social media empire from behind multiple layers of encryption and privacy protection. Ever since Angela's divorce had gone public, they'd learned to take digital security seriously. "This is where the real decisions get made. Where producers actually write checks and casting directors remember faces."

Angela's father glanced up from his morning crossword, reading glasses perched on his nose. His weathered hands stilled on the newspaper as he took in his
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  • Loved by My Ex-husband's Rival.    CHAPTER 27

    DANIEL'S POVAt Daniel Rourke's Palisades estate, the morning light came through the windows in the master's bedroom, making everything look warm and golden. Daniel lay next to Elise, aware of how far apart they were even though they were on the same bed. He could tell she was awake because her shoulders were tense, but she looked out the floor-to-ceiling window at the garden and not at him. He stretched out to her and put his hand on her hip. It was a gesture he had done a thousand times before: soft and asking for permission instead of demanding it. A basic request for connection that should have been easy to say yes to."Not this morning," Elise replied quietly, moving away from his touch and getting out of bed with ease. She put on her silk robe and walked to the bathroom without looking at him. Daniel lay there, palm still resting on the soft sheets, feeling the sting of rejection over and over again. This was the third time this week. The sixth time in two weeks. At one point

  • Loved by My Ex-husband's Rival.    CHAPTER 26

    JAVIER'S POVThe waiter said, "Ah, I'm sorry." He then covered his face with his palm. "Wait, is that a camera?"The moment stretched. Javier could feel the energy in the room change and the attention turn to him. A security guy was already walking toward him, and his body language changed from relaxed to alert. "Digital Investigations Magazine," Javier responded calmly, showing his ID. "I'm documenting the philanthropic component of today's gathering. I'm so sorry about your injury." A PR coordinator showed up almost immediately— a woman in a suit with panic in her eyes but professionalism in her posture, hinting she was used to handling crises."Let's get you to the medical suite," she told the waiter, then turned to Javier. "Sir, I need to check your access. Please come over here." A less experienced investigator would have panicked at this point. But Javier had spent twelve years studying how to get around in places where he didn't really belong. Despite his anxiety, he followed

  • Loved by My Ex-husband's Rival.    Chapter 25

    JAVIER'S POVJavier got to his flat at seven in the morning with two cups of coffee. His slow steps and visible eye bags gave away how tired he was from being up until three in the morning, putting papers in order. His modest study was full of printouts—financial accounts, property data, and pictures of people whose names appeared greatly in Monroe Rourke's several holdings. His mentor Larry Brennan taught him this: never start an inquiry without knowing what you're doing. First, make a map of the area. Before you get in, learn about the area. He thought about Larry a lot, especially on mornings like this when the task felt the hardest. Daniel Rourke's lawyers destroyed Larry when he was sixty-three years old. He was a famous investigative journalist, the kind of person who could see a financial fraud in a sea of honest transactions. He also knew that corruption always left a trail if you knew how to read it. But he had made a mistake that Javier had learned never to do again: he had

  • Loved by My Ex-husband's Rival.    Chapter 24

    ‘No,’ she thought. ‘It wasn't the right time. Will there ever be a right time?’ Her mind was racing. She wondered if she’d made a mistake showing up."Well, if you don't want to discuss the brand deal now, no problem.” He took a sip of coffee. They were quiet for a moment. Angela tried to ignore the weight of his presence across the small table and focus on the croissant, the fountain, or anything else. The pause turned from uneasy to oddly companionable.“Remember that open‑mic comedy night you dragged us to sophomore year?” Alex asked, steering the conversation toward something low‑key and inevitably cringey. “The one where you’d promised to do a five‑minute bit about ‘the horrors of auditioning for student films’?”Angela’s mouth twitched into a half‑grin despite herself. “The night I walked onstage, grabbed the mic, and—by accident—read the cue cards backward. I started with, ‘…and that’s why my mother always says, “Don’t forget to…’’ and then I tripped over the word ‘never.’”Al

  • Loved by My Ex-husband's Rival.    Chapter 23

    Angela was twelve minutes late to the café, but she convinced herself that it was okay because of the traffic on Sunset Boulevard. The truth was more complicated: she had spent hours at home thinking of why this was a bad idea before eventually deciding to step out. She had been trying to convince herself that seeing Alex outside of work would be okay. Businesslike, formal, nothing more. The years had given her enough time to heal the emotional wound of Alex’s betrayal. That she could sit across from him and not remember exactly how she had felt when she found out he was cheating on her back in college. The way her stomach had dropped, the way the world had tilted sideways, the way she cried her heart out. The courtyard café at Silver Lake was just like Alex had said: plants spilling over every surface, a little water fountain, and furniture that didn't match yet looked like it had been carefully chosen. It should have been romantic. Angela was set on not feeling anything romantic

  • Loved by My Ex-husband's Rival.    CHAPTER 22

    Clara's apartment smelled like the lavender candle she always had burning and the Thai food they had for lunch. Angela sat in the corner of Clara's couch, warming her hands with a ceramic mug of chamomile tea. Clara lay on the other end with her legs tucked under her. "So therapy?" Clara asked, and Angela could feel her friend getting into the right position to really listen—her back was relaxed against the cushions, her phone was face down on the coffee table, and all of her attention was on Angela. "Better,” Angela said. “Dr. Mendel helped me see that I was tying my sense of well-being to social media validation. For example, the positive response to the video felt great, but then I realized I was constantly checking the view and comment counts to see if I was okay." Clara nodded slowly. "That makes sense. For years, people told you you were wrong about everything. Now you're looking for proof from outside that you're right." "Exactly. But Dr. Mendel said that's still letting ot

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