บททั้งหมดของ He Hurt Me, Now He Wants Me Back: บทที่ 201 - บทที่ 210

Imogene Scott “Imogene, are you alright?” the voice is distant. “Can you tell us what you saw that day?”I can’t answer. My hands are clenched hard as I stare down at my palms in the interrogation room. My throat feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton, and my chest is so tight I can barely breathe. The officer's words echo, bouncing off the walls and back at me, but I don’t lift my gaze. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be in this cold, unforgiving room recounting the worst moment of my life. I should be home, grieving my father who died five days ago. Damien didn’t want me to come, he had the power to allow me skip the interrogation but I wanted to come. I wanted to be there to help the police catch whoever killed my father. But now that I’m here, I’m not sure I can take it, I’m not sure I want to retell that horrible moment.The walls of the interrogation room feel like they’re closing in on me. My hands are clenched into fists, nails biting into my palms as I stare down a

Imogene Scott A few days later… I’m sitting by the dresser and looking at myself in the mirror while I do my hair for Dad’s service. The morning air is cold for some reason. My black dress clings to my frame and I’m able to truly notice how much weight I’ve lost in just a few days. My collarbones jut out sharply, and my cheeks look hollow. My hands tremble as I pick up the hairbrush, dragging it through my hair. Each stroke feels like I’m on autopilot. I pull my hair back into a bun. The mirror doesn’t lie. I look like a ghost of myself, but it’s not just the reflection—it’s how I feel. I miss him. I miss my dad in ways I can’t even begin to put into words. It’s like a piece of me was ripped away the moment he fell. And now, that moment keeps replaying in my head on an endless loop. The sound of the gunshot, sharp and deafening, rings in my ears at the most unexpected times—when I’m trying to eat, when I’m lying in bed trying to sleep, even now as I sit here. I see shado

Damien Shaw The service ends, and I take Imogene’s hand as we walk to the car. Her grip is weak, her fingers cold despite the late afternoon sun warming the pavement. The parking lot is quiet except for the faint hum of cars passing on the main road. I glance at her as I open the passenger door for her, but she keeps her face turned away.Once I’ve settled into the driver’s seat, I start the car, and the radio hums to life. I immediately shut it off. Imogene stares out the window, her head resting against the glass, her lips pressed into a thin line. I want to say something but I know better. She hasn’t spoken since we left the church, and I’m not about to be the one to break the silence. My thoughts drift as I drive. Lila. Her absence at the funeral/ She hasn’t even called Imogene since the incident. Her husband just died, and she didn’t show up to his funeral. No call. No text. Nothing. I can’t make sense of it. But I don’t say any of this aloud. Imogene’s already spiraling.

Damien Shaw The kitchen smells like butter and eggs as I stand by the stove, flipping the omelette in the pan. The sizzle fills the air, and I catch the faintest scent of parsley—Lily insists she hates green things, but I sneak them in for her anyway. I glance at the clock above the sink. It’s later than I thought. Imogene is still upstairs with the doctor. I hope that goes smoothly, but something tells me it won’t. “Mummy says eggs make you strong like Superman!” Lily’s voice cuts through my thoughts as she rushes into the kitchen.“Is it ready, Daddy?” she asks.She’s peering up at me with those wide, curious eyes that make me feel like I’m doing something right in this whole parenting thing. “Just in time,” I say.I slide the omelette onto a small plate, cut it into smaller pieces, then hand it to her. “Thank you!” she chirps before scampering into the living room. I follow her with my eyes as she climbs onto the couch, settling in with her plate. A faint movement ca

“Yes,” I say with a little more heat on it than I would’ve liked. “Because he believed in me. He believed I could do it.”“Okay.”“He believed in me.”“I understand.”Beat.“Can you tell me what happened after you helped him save the company?” Annie pauses to find the right words. This one I don’t want to answer but I feel like if I wiggle around it Annie will just come right back for the jugular with her follow up. I tread with caution.“Well… he got married again.”“And you?”“Yes, what about me?”“Were you in touch with him?”“Well, he had his new life. We barely kept touch.”Annie holds another of her trademark unreadable stares at me. Even though I can’t gauge the specics, I can tell there’s a lot of speculation going on. I feel theneed to add more.“Plus, we started keeping in touch again recently.” I give a little nod to punctuate my statement. I’m hoping that moved the dialon Annie’s judgment, but after a few seconds I can tell it didn’t.Annie purses her lips. “Who reached