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Chapter 93
Last Updated:
2025-09-26 15:51:15
Latest chapter
Never Forgive You, My Ex-Husband Chapter 96
DAVIDThe papers stank of smoke when Hannah slid them across the table to me.We were holed up in the flat above an abandoned storefront two blocks off the avenue, the one Elise had rigged as a “dead zone” for signals. No cameras, no bugs, no ears but ours. The curtains were nailed shut, the only light a desk lamp angled low. She’d wrapped the scraps in her shawl like contraband, and now they spread across the tabletop in black curls and ash-smudged fragments.I handled them with tweezers, my gloves streaked gray.Numbers. Account codes. Wire transfers through Belize and Cyprus, dates lining up with key contracts Mancini Industries had no business winning. A list of names scribbled in a hand I’d recognize anywhere. Nico’s.And one scrap that made my jaw clench until my teeth clicked: Hawthorne. The clinic. Right there in his handwriting, paired with a line item labeled “retainer.”“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “He wasn’t just a monster in his house. He’s been laundering half the city thr
Never Forgive You, My Ex-Husband Chapter 95
HANNAHThe house no longer hummed with confidence; it hissed. Every corridor carried whispers. Staff voices dipped when Nico passed, eyes cutting sideways like they were checking who was still left standing. Even Alvarez, usually the model of composure, moved with clipped steps, head down, her jaw tight as she poured my tea.“Thank you,” I murmured.She gave the smallest nod, quick, like acknowledgment was dangerous.I tucked the moment away. Nico always thought power was in boardrooms, in headlines. He never understood the weight of the staff who cleaned the glasses, who carried the trays, who decided whether a door closed softly or slammed loud enough to echo. If the staff were whispering, it meant the house itself was turning against him.**********************************By noon, the cracks spread past the walls. A call with one of his biggest partners ended in silence so thick I could hear the static between his teeth when he hung up. I was sitting nearby, playing the role of dut
Never Forgive You, My Ex-Husband Chapter 94
HANNAHThe internet moved faster than grief. By morning, the videos were everywhere—angled shots from glittering phones, some shaky, some blurred, but all carrying the same brutal truth: Nico Mancini, the perfect husband, the careful host, had shoved Sydney across the ballroom floor in front of two hundred guests and a dozen reporters.Hashtags bloomed like bruises. #ManciniMeltdown. #VowsAndViolence. #BehindTheSmile. Clips stitched together—him shouting, me standing still, Sydney’s gasp, Veronica’s thin smile frozen in the background. Commentators on morning shows dissected every gesture like they were archeologists dusting bones.The narrative he had written for himself—devoted husband, reconciled marriage, a vow renewal built on forgiveness—was unraveling in real time. And I was still here in his house, wearing his ring, brushing my teeth in the same marble sink as if everything hadn’t shifted overnight.I scrolled in silence, back braced against the headboard, phone cold in my hand
Never Forgive You, My Ex-Husband Chapter 93
HANNAHThe last champagne glass had barely been cleared before the silence turned dangerous.Guests shuffled out in clusters, buzzing like hornets carrying the sting with them, whispers too loud to be whispers anymore. The ballroom smelled of lilies and sweat, of spilled wine and shattered glass. Phones still glowed in hands as people typed the first headlines into the world.Nico hadn’t looked at me once while they left. Not once. He’d held himself rigid, smiling too wide at the guests who dared to offer pity, shoulders square as if posture alone could glue the night back together. But the moment the last guest’s heel clicked against the marble and the front doors shut with a heavy thud, he turned.The mask dropped.“Upstairs,” he snapped. His voice wasn’t loud—he didn’t need loud. It was a command polished by years of expecting obedience.I didn’t move. My dress clung to me like another layer of skin, suffocating, emerald silk meant to scream loyalty. It screamed cage instead.His ja
Never Forgive You, My Ex-Husband Chapter 92
DAVIDNico’s shove had already hit every lens in the room. Phones lifted, flashes stuttered, the gasps turned into the messy chorus of a scandal being born. Sydney, shaking in her blood-red dress, stood with a hand to her elbow, hair wild from his grip. Hannah… Hannah stood like she’d known all along this would be the moment. Too calm, too poised, a statue in emerald silk while the house burned behind her.I pressed my earpiece tighter. “Eyes on her,” I told Omar, who had the east exit. “Anyone gets too close, you intervene.”“Copy,” he said, low and sharp.Beside me, Elise didn’t look away from her screen, where half a dozen feeds stitched the chaos into a single story. “It’ll be online before midnight,” she whispered. “Clipped, captioned, memed. By morning, he’s not a husband. He’s a headline.”I should’ve smiled. God knows, I’d worked long enough in shadows to recognize when a tyrant dug his own grave. But the weight in my chest wasn’t pride. It was fear. Because Hannah wasn’t done.
Never Forgive You, My Ex-Husband Chapter 91
HANNAHIt only takes one sentence to tilt the whole room.Veronica says it like she’s weighing pearls in her palm, soft enough to sound civilized and sharp enough to make people bleed: “Maybe Hannah should explain why Nico keeps so many secrets locked in his safe.”The ballroom exhales wrong. The hum of champagne and small talk collapses into a low, animal murmur. You can hear the shift—the delicate scrape of chairs, the hush of silk against silk, the microphones on the cameras waking up as hands tighten around them. Even the lilies seem to hold their breath.My spine stays straight. That’s the rule: don’t show your pulse. I keep my hands loose at my sides even though my ring finger aches to tap the signal—two taps, eyes up; three, location; four, break the glass. Not yet. Not while every lens in this room is hunting for a crack in my face.The word safe ricochets in my ribs. She knows. Maybe not what’s in it, but she knows it exists. She said secrets like she’s counted them.Nico’s he
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