Semua Bab Rekindling Love After Divorce : Bab 111 - Bab 120

Amanda sat on the couch, a half-empty mug of tea resting on the table beside her. The room was quiet except for the distant noise of traffic outside. She had not gone out much in the past few days. Her energy had been divided between searching for leads on Kendall and trying to gather pieces of her parents’ death that still didn’t make sense. There had been a time she could focus on one thing at a time. Now everything felt connected. Her heart was tired, but a small part of her still clung to hope.James hadn’t called, not in two days. Still, she hadn’t lost faith in him. She believed something was keeping him away. Something serious. He had always been the one to fight for her, to hold her hand even when everything around them was falling apart. Maybe he needed space to fix whatever was keeping him silent. Maybe he was protecting her from something.She pulled her phone closer, the screen lighting up with updates and messages she hadn’t yet opened. A part of her hesitated. She wa

The days slipped by quietly, but for James, each one felt like an eternity. Amanda had not answered a single message. Not a single call. His mornings began with hopeful attempts to reach her and ended with him sitting outside her apartment, just to feel close to her, just to imagine that she might open the door. But she never did. Her silence was heavier than any anger she could have thrown at him. It was final and left no room for hope.Every note he slipped under her door carried a different version of the same thing. Explanations, regrets and a plea, but nothing changed. James would lean against the door sometimes, speaking softly, knowing she was in there, telling her he was sorry, that he never wanted any of this and still loved her. He would sit on the steps afterward, staring at her doormat, listening for any sign of movement. The rustle of feet, a light switch—Anything. But all he heard was the quietness of the apartment.Amanda, on the other side, sat curled up on the co

Agnes stood in front of the mirror in her room, her reflection looking back at her with an expression that carried both composure and fury. The morning light slipping through the curtains was soft, but inside her chest everything was heavy, cold, and unrelenting. Her hand hovered over the pearls at her neck, but she did not see the jewelry. All she could see was the threat that Charles had become. She had underestimated him. She had always thought of Charles as ambitious but manageable, a man who liked to think he was in control when in truth he needed her. Now she knew better. He had pushed her into a corner, had dared to threaten her with Kendall’s name, and that alone made him dangerous. Agnes’s heart had never been tender toward the child, but she had tolerated her existence because it tied James to Amanda in a way she could exploit. Yet now, with Charles holding that secret close to his chest, Kendall had become more of a liability than an advantage. Agnes pressed her pa

James had not been sleeping well for days. His nights were restless, filled with thoughts that circled endlessly without answers, and his days were swallowed by the investigation into Amanda’s parents’ death. The weight of it had grown heavier the closer he came to the truth, as if his heart already knew what his mind was not yet ready to accept.He sat in the corner of a quiet office, a place he had rented in secrecy, away from family eyes and the endless pressures of the looming wedding. Papers were spread across the table in front of him, but he barely saw them. His mind was only fixed on the man he was waiting for.When the door opened, the private investigator stepped in. He was an older man with a lined face, a calm presence, and the kind of patience that made people underestimate him. James stood immediately, his chest tight, and motioned for him to sit.“Tell me you found something,” James said, his voice low, as though afraid of what he might hear.The investigator removed

The night moved heavily with tension as the hitman sat in the interrogation room. His face was streaked with soot, his clothes reeking of smoke, but his eyes were restless. Two officers leaned across the table, their voices calm but firm.“You’ve been caught red-handed,” one of them said. “If you want to save yourself, you better start talking.”The man shifted in his seat, tapping his fingers nervously against the table. He knew the weight of the crimes pressed against him like chains. The fire, the abductions, and the threats. It was too much for one man to carry. If he wanted any hope of leniency, he had to hand over names.“All right,” he muttered. “I’ll talk.”The officer leaned closer. “We’re listening.”The hitman took a deep breath. “I’ve done a lot of jobs. Fires, threats, all of it. Years ago, I was the one who carried out the hit on an innocent family under Agnes Watson's order, the family turns out to be that of her ex- daughter in law, Amanda. I was told it was business,