Library
Search
Home / Romance / THE DIVORCED WIFE RETURNS TO TAKE BACK WHAT’S HERS / NINE

Share

NINE

Author: Miss_X
last update Last Updated: 2025-09-18 18:07:03

DAMIAN

Isabella was never the reason I was here. She was an excuse, a shield I could hold up to the world while I chased the ghost of a man I needed to find.

Elena’s man. The stranger in the photographs that haunted me every night.

I had combed New York for months, spent enough on private investigators to buy a fleet of jets, yet every trail ended in ash. But London held whispers.

That was why I was here, why I’d left my wife alone. The woman who swore on her life she hadn’t betrayed me. God, the way she’d looked at me that time, eyes brimming with disbelief, anguish, begging me to believe her. If it weren’t for those damned photographs, I might have. But I wasn’t a fool. I wasn’t the man who fell for sweet lies spun with teary eyes.

I could still see them in my mind, the images I’d memorised, tortured myself with. Her delicate body tangled with his. The unmistakable birthmark below her hip, proof etched into her very skin. No camera trick, no forgery. I’d stared at them until
Continue to read this book for free
Scan code to download App
Locked Chapter
Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Latest chapter

  • THE DIVORCED WIFE RETURNS TO TAKE BACK WHAT’S HERS    THIRTY-THREE

    ELENAIt had been a long week. A ridiculously long week. The kind of week that felt like a year squeezed into five exhausting days, running between meetings, dealing with Paul, chasing housing options, keeping my mother from having an emotional landslide, and smiling politely at people I wanted to strangle with biodegradable shopping bags.So naturally, the universe decided I hadn’t suffered enough and sent me to the grocery store.I was just comparing two brands of organic pasta, one with less sodium, one with fewer carbs, both overpriced when I caught a glimpse of someone walking towards my aisle. Tall, broad shoulders, annoyingly confident stride.Damian.Of course he was here. Of course.My entire body reacted like I’d seen a wild predator. I dropped the pasta into my basket, spun around, and brisk-walked—fine, ran out of the aisle like a fugitive escaping a crime scene.I turned the corner into the next aisle, leaned against the shelf, exhaled in relief—“Elena? Oh my goodness, E

  • THE DIVORCED WIFE RETURNS TO TAKE BACK WHAT’S HERS    THIRTY-TWO

    ELENA I leaned back in my chair, the corner of my mouth twitching as I watched Isabelle pretend to be warm and cordial. She fidgeted with her napkin a delicate, practised nervousness, as though she’d rehearsed this entire scene in the mirror this morning. “So…” she began again, her tone deliberately light. “How’s your mother? I heard about the fire. Such a tragedy.” Her eyes flickered with something sharp, maybe curiosity disguised as sympathy. I tilted my head, studying her. "She’s fine, thankfully. Still recovering, but fine.” “That’s good to hear,” she said, smiling that little too-sweet smile. “You must have been so scared.” “I was,” I said, my voice cool. “But we’re managing.” There was a brief silence, the kind that hung between two people who had no business pretending to care about each other. The waiter arrived with coffee, and Isabelle gave him her most charming smile, then turned back to me with the same expression. “So…” she said, dragging out the word again like

  • THE DIVORCED WIFE RETURNS TO TAKE BACK WHAT’S HERS    THIRTY-ONE

    ELENA I sat in my car, engine running but going nowhere. The city pulsed around me, yellow cabs honking, people darting between lanes, the endless sound of a place that never slept. Yet somehow, all I could hear was the echo of my mother’s voice from two nights ago, brittle and detached, like she was trying to hold herself together with paper and glue. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, staring at the faint scratches on the leather. Something’s wrong with her. I knew it even before I came back to New York. The video calls had grown shorter, her eyes darting around like someone was watching her. Then she stopped answering altogether. And now her house was set on fire, and she wanted to drop the charges? That wasn’t my mother. That was someone scared into silence. Was she threatened? Controlled? Or worse, protecting someone? I rubbed my temple. It didn’t matter. I was not giving up on her, no matter how many walls she tried to build between us. And as for the investigation?

  • THE DIVORCED WIFE RETURNS TO TAKE BACK WHAT’S HERS    THIRTY

    ELENA The morning started off quietly, almost suspiciously so. The kind of calm that never lasted long since the day I arrived. My mother and I were having breakfast at the dining table, sunlight pouring lazily through the curtains, the smell of toasted croissants and coffee filling the air. For once, she looked peaceful. No tension in her jaw, no frown lines cutting through her forehead. Just… calm. Of course, that couldn’t last. The doorbell rang loud and abrupt. Uninvited. I sighed, stabbing my fork into my eggs like the bell had personally offended me. “Of course,” I muttered, pushing back my chair. “Because God forbid we finish one meal in peace.” My mother raised a brow but said nothing, delicately sipping her tea like she was pretending not to care. But I saw the flicker of irritation in her eyes, she hated interruptions more than anyone. I walked to the door, already rehearsing my polite-but-annoyed tone. When I opened it, there stood a middle-aged woman in a neat unifo

  • THE DIVORCED WIFE RETURNS TO TAKE BACK WHAT’S HERS    TWENTY-NINE

    DAMIAN When I walked into Angela’s room that night, the first thing I noticed was how small she looked, curled up in her pink duvet, hugging that teddy bear like it was her whole world. Marina was perched at the edge of the bed with a storybook open in her hands. The sight was… comforting. Soft. Familiar. “Marina,” I said quietly, standing at the door. “I’ll take it from here.” She looked at me, surprised. "Sir?” “I said I’ll read to her tonight.” Her gaze flickered between Angela and me for a moment before she nodded. “Of course.” She smiled gently at Angela. “Goodnight, little one.” “’Night, Miss Marina,” Angela whispered. When the door clicked shut behind her, the room fell into that warm, peaceful silence that only a child’s bedroom could have. I sat down beside Angela, the mattress dipping slightly under my weight. “So,” I began, resting my elbows on my knees. “You had a good day?” She nodded faintly, eyes still on the pages of her book. “That’s good,” I said softly.

  • THE DIVORCED WIFE RETURNS TO TAKE BACK WHAT’S HERS    TWENTY-EIGHT

    The moment I stepped out of the car and walked up the driveway, I knew something was off. It wasn’t the house; the place was as painfully perfect as always, but the look on the nanny’s face when she opened the door. Marina never waited for me. Ever. Normally she’d peek through the window, give a polite nod, and vanish back to her world of snacks, nap times, and children’s songs. But this time she was standing right there in the doorway, wringing her hands like she was about to deliver bad news. I sighed, already feeling a headache forming. “Alright,” I muttered, stepping past her, “what’s the crisis today? Angela refuses to nap again? Or did she paint the piano pink this time?” Her lips twitched, but she didn’t smile. Not even close. “It’s not Angela, sir.” That caught my attention. I stopped halfway into the foyer and turned back to her. “Then what is it?” She took a deep breath, the kind people take before saying something they know will get them in trouble. “It’s Miss B

More Chapters

You may also like

Explore and read good novels for free
Free access to a vast number of good novels on GoodNovel app. Download the books you like and read anywhere & anytime.
Read books for free on the app
SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP
DMCA.com Protection Status