All Chapters of Divorced My CEO Husband, He Came Begging: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

The memory faded, replaced by the sterile hospital room, the frail woman who was the center of that fiction. Would everything have been different if I'd known the truth then? If I had known those cruel children had been right about something I'd defended so fiercely?I stared at Mami Lulu's slack features, feeling a tangle of emotions so complicated I couldn't begin to name them all. Grief, yes. Love, absolutely. But I was also angry. Not just at the deception that shaped my entire life, but at her for dying now, for leaving me with half-formed revelations and cryptic messages and the pain in my chest.It was selfish to be angry at someone for dying. Selfish to want them to wake up one more time and explain everything—not just the self-serving confession of a guilty conscience, but the whole truth. The parts she'd held back even in that moment of clarity. The whys and hows that would probably never make sense to anyone but her.And beneath all that, a strange, unsettling gratitude. Sh

I blinked, returning to the present as Olivia gently touched my arm. The priest was looking at me expectantly—my cue to speak.I moved to the simple podium. Looking out at the small gathering—just Olivia, a few nurses from Sunset Valley who'd grown fond of Mami Lulu, and, to my surprise, Grandfather Giuseppe in his wheelchair—I found myself struggling to capture the complexity of the woman we were laying to rest.I placed my hands on the worn wood, steadying myself. The note cards I'd prepared the night before suddenly seemed inadequate."I spent hours trying to write this," I began, setting the cards aside. "But everything I wrote felt false somehow. Neat and packaged. And Lupe Vega was never neat or packaged."I took a breath, looking at the simple pine casket with its arrangement of mountain wildflowers."When I was eight, I got sick. Mountain fever, probably—high temperature, hallucinations, the works. We were snowed in, no way to get to a doctor. Mami Lulu sat with me for three da

I peeled away the brittle tape, the sound unnaturally loud in the basement's stillness. The hinges protested as I opened the lid.Inside was a manila envelope, discolored with age, and on top of it, a single glass bead—larger than the ones I usually made, its surface an intricate swirl of deep blue and green. I recognized the pattern immediately. I'd been trying to recreate it for years, never quite getting it right. I picked it up, held it to the light. Inside the glass, almost invisible unless you knew to look for it, was the tiny stylized "LV""Her signature piece," I said softly. "The one they stole."I set it carefully aside and opened the envelope. Inside were documents—some original, some photocopies, all showing their age. The first was a patent application dated 1982, complete with detailed drawings of the spiral technique that would later become the foundation of the "Vega method." The name on the application: Guadalupe Vega.Next came photographs where a much younger Mami L

FionaThree Weeks LaterI adjusted my Valentino blazer in the elevator mirror, checking my lipstick for the third time. Not a smudge. Perfect. The way everything about me needed to be today.Meridian Design Group occupied the entire thirty-eighth floor of a gleaming glass tower that screamed new money—unlike the tasteful limestone building that housed Russo Designs. Or should I say, Maya's designs now.That thought sent another sick wave through my stomach. I pushed it down, the way I'd been taught. Feelings were liabilities. Especially in business.The elevator doors opened directly into Meridian's reception area—all chrome and white leather and those weird plants that look fake but aren't. The receptionist glanced up from he

MayaMy apartment had become a paper labyrinth. Every flat surface—dining table, coffee table, kitchen counter, even parts of the floor—was covered with documents, sketches, and diagrams. The foundation had started as a vague idea the night at the cabin, something Alex and I had discussed over bad whiskey and raw emotions. Now it was consuming my life in the best possible way.I took a step back, surveying the organized chaos. Application for 501(c)(3) status, check. Mission statement, check. Draft bylaws, check. Potential board members, in progress.My phone buzzed with a text from Olivia: Just got off call with the attorneys. Good to go on the name.That had been our biggest hurdle. The Kingstons' lawyers had fired off cease-and-de