Semua Bab Ex-husband’s Regret: Revenge So Sweet : Bab 211 - Bab 220

Alexander’s POVThe door clicks open as I step inside the house with Mother.The soft tune of a jazz song floats through the living room, slow and airy like the aftermath of a toast. Cynthia dances alone—wine in hand, hair loosely pinned, her dress glinting in the light as if she’s celebrating something only she knows.My jaw clenches.I walk straight to the speaker and turn off the music.She turns slowly, surprised, raising her glass mid-air like she just noticed us.“Oh… you’re back?” she says lightly, her tone breezy. “The event’s already over?”Something in her voice irks me. I don’t miss the sly curiosity behind her words.I stare at her. My mind replays the scene—the flash of her slipping out through the hotel hallway, the way she avoided every gaze.I know what I saw.“Where were you today, Cynthia?” I ask, voice sharp.She scoffs, laughing without humor.“Impossible. Where else would I be?”Lies. I can see it in the flicker of her eyes.If you lie to me now, Cynthia, I’ll tak

Cynthia’s POVI pace the room, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floor, every step slicing through the heavy, choking silence.My mind won’t stop spinning, crashing back to Alexander’s words from last night. His tone, his stubbornness, the way he said he was going to start digging into the past. Into the truth.Panic twists inside me.If he really starts poking around, he will find it.He will find me.How I carefully, ruthlessly created a rift between him and Isabel.How I built lie upon lie, wound after wound, all to keep them apart forever.No.I shake my head fiercely, biting down hard on my thumbnail, pacing faster.That can’t happen.For years, I’ve endured—fought—to keep the truth buried. I’ve planted doubts, fueled betrayals, sowed distrust like a second skin between them.And yet—Why does fate keep spinning the damn wheel back to them?No matter how far apart I tear them, no matter how well I bury the past, something—something—always shoves them back toward each o

Alexander’s POVI’m gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles are pale. Buildings blur past my window as I drive, but my mind is stuck on Collins’ words—each one echoing like a slow, burning fuse.It’s Sabrina. Your mother.Could she have really done it?My jaw clenches as I press harder on the gas. The engine hums louder beneath me, but it doesn’t drown out the flood of thoughts crashing in my head.She never wanted me to marry Isabel. From the very beginning, my mother made it painfully clear—Isabel wasn’t good enough, not for me, not for our family. She despised everything about her. Her upbringing. Her background. The fact that she was poor. A nobody. Someone who didn’t fit into our world.She never forgave me for choosing Isabel anyway.And then I remember—that night.We were arguing in her study room. She’d been furious about how useless Isabel was during a family crisis—said she just stood there, quiet, offering nothing of value. That she had no strength, no presence,

Isabel’s POVI scoff, folding my arms as I shift my gaze to Sabrina. “What are you trying to do, Sabrina?” My voice slices through the room, low but sharp. “How dare you lie—or worse, try to twist the truth in front of everyone here?”The officers watch, unmoving, as I take a breath, trying to hold onto the edge of control. I turn to them, my tone firm, voice steady. “Don’t mind her. I’m sure she’s been made to say all this. The Sabrina I know wouldn’t take the blame for something she didn’t do. Not like this. Besides,” I pause, looking pointedly at her, “how does she explain the evidence we have? The link we found between the Castillos and the person in question? This isn’t a story you can bury with theatrics.For a flicker of a second—barely a heartbeat—I see it. Shock. A flicker that flits across her face before it’s gone, replaced by a scoff. Slow. Hollow. She lands her gaze on me, eyes unreadable, digging into something I can’t quite understand. But there’s something off. The way

Alexander’s POVI stand there. Frozen.My legs won’t move, and my thoughts feel like a jumbled, tangled mess that refuses to settle. I can’t even feel the weight of the door closing behind the officers—can’t feel anything, really. Just the echo of their voices. The cuffs. The quiet obedience on my mother’s face as they led her away.I thought I’d have time.I thought coming home first… sitting with her, hearing her side of the story—maybe it’d help me make sense of all this. Maybe I’d be able to tell what was true and what wasn’t. But it’s already too late.“She has confessed.”That’s all the officer said before he walked out.I bend my head back and take a shuddering breath, dragging my hands slowly down my face like it’ll help wipe the numbness off.Confessed.That means… she did everything?She’s the one who wanted Isabel gone?My own mother.I don’t know what to believe anymore.The woman who raised me—strong, cold, proud—didn’t even put up a fight. That’s what unsettles me the mo